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iwashie · 10 months

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MOMMY OR DADDY| BLLK

･ﾟﾟ･｡ synopsis: are they mommy's boys or daddies?

･ﾟﾟ･｡ warnings- mdni, nsfw content, established relationship, f!reader, 18+ characters, pro players(20+), fingering, vaginal sex, praise, breeding/mommy/daddy kink, creampie, petnames.

Mommy’s boys! who arrive tired from workouts or game days and want to relax, walking into the house and meeting you in your satin bathrobe, showing your boobs and legs in the thin fabric, waiting for them, sitting on the couch, getting them all pent-up.

Mommy’s boys! who drop everything to snuggle in your lap, receiving affection in the hair and kisses on the forehead. “My good boy did so well today... I’m so proud,” you say, pressing him against your body as he buries his face in your chest.

Mommy’s boys! who in a matter of seconds, are kissing you fervently, hands squeezing your body and rubbing against you like the good boys they are.

Mommy’s boys! who can’t take it long and have a boner, lifting their hips to have more contact with your hand, groping them over the top of their underwear as they suck, nibble and lick your chest. “My baby boy is so thirsty.... Did you miss Mommy?” They just shake their heads, still with their mouths glued to your chest and wincing as you play with them.

Mommy’s boys! begging you to relieve them, hips lifting in your hand and from their mouth a garter of saliva connecting the red lips to your nipple. “Mommy... please...”, “Only good boys get rewarded. Were you a good boy today?” This man shakes his head so hard, squinting his eyes and his legs trembling as your fingers slide inside his underwear.

Mommy’s boys! who play your breast shamelessly, sucking on the soft flesh and biting, licking with loud noises and the other hand squeezes, rolls, pinches your nipple, making you shudder and smile at their need for it. “Tell me you’re a good boy...” And they’ll let go of your chest with a loud, wet plop, head hanging from your arm and moaning the response as you tease the reddish head of their cock, making them spill thick, white pre-cum.

Mommy’s boys! who can’t hold out very long and are just “Mommy... please...” “I’m a good boy...” “I was a good boy, mommy...” “Mommy…” writhing in your lap, whimpering, face red and heavy breathing, begging for you. “My good boy deserves a reward.”

Mommy’s boys! who grabbed your thick thighs and dry nurse you, like the big baby he is as he thrusts fast, balls deep into you, clinging to your body like a baby. “That, my good boy...” “Mommy’s feeling so good..” “My good boy is so good,” stroke his hair as he thrusts inside you and watch this big baby lose control, moaning against your skin and waist slamming against yours, doing everything for Mommy’s pleasure.

Mommy’s boys! who will bite your chest when they’re close to cumming and wanting compliments while you pull him closer, your legs clamped around his waist and saying, “be a good boy and cum for Mommy.” This big baby boy will cum deeply, shuddering in your body, resting his head on your chest and pushing his cum back inside you when it comes out.

oliver aiku, mikage reo, nagi seishiro, niko ikki, kurona ranze, alexis ness, bachira meguru, itoshi rin, eita otoya, gagamaru gin, tokimitsu aoshi, isagi yoichi, nanase nijiro, shuto sendou, yukimiya kenyu, chris prince, loki julian

Daddy! who arrives tired from training or games and just wants the comfort of his house, his pretty little girl and relaxes, finding you wearing the silky pink lingerie he bought for you, greeting them with a “welcome, daddy.”

Daddy! who watches his pretty little girl kneeling on the living room carpet, closing their eyes as they gain affection on their faces, and smile wide at your submission, pants squeezing in front. “Did my good little girl behave?” earning a nod as you glued your body to his leg.

Daddy! who lifts his pretty little girl up and spins you in a small circle, watching the pink lingerie on your body as the heat spreads through his body. “My little girl looks pretty. Is it all for Daddy?” earning a “to make Daddy happy.” Oh, how he loves his good, pretty little girl.

Daddy! who fervently kisses his pretty little girl while you’re on his lap, hands clasped on his shoulders and his hands roamed your body, shivering as icy fingers enter under the thin fabric of your panties. “My pretty little girl, did you miss me?” earning a little moan as you roll onto his lap.

Daddy! who forces you to roll on his flexed thigh, making you moan and shudder, clinging to him as he guides your movements with firm hands on your waist. “Is my pretty little girl going to make Daddy happy?” You groan, nodding.

Daddy! who smiles as he feels the wet puddle on his leg where you were rolling. “My little girl wants Daddy, huh?” his fingers sliding down your wet folds, playing with your clit, having you shudder in his lap with your eyes closed and moaning, “Daddy, please...”, “Does my little girl want something?” waiting for you to beg for him. “I’m Daddy’s cute little girl.”, “I missed Daddy...”, “I need you, Daddy...”

Daddy! who will slide two fingers in you and work them in slow movements, torturing you, adoring listening to your moans and pleas. “Please...” “Daddy, please...”, “I’m your good little girl...”, “Are you? And the good girls get what?” He will suck and bite your neck, fingers still inside you. “Good girls get daddy...”, “That’s it, my pretty little girl.”

Daddy! who will have you on all fours, ass in the air, showing off your wet pussy, grabbing your hips and making you clutch the cushions as he licks you slowly, muttering, “my pretty little girl is so sweet..” and slapping your ass, a red mark from his hand.

Daddy! who’s gonna have you dripping into his mouth and squeezing his fingers as he grins against your throbbing, wet pussy. “Daddy, please...”, “Please...” “Daddy!” you’re going to beg him a lot while he’s having his moment with his little doll.

Daddy! who will circle his thumb on your clit as he coasts his cock into your folds, collecting your juice and playing with your entrance. “What does my pretty little girl want?” “I want you, Daddy...”, “Please daddy!”, “My little girl is so good to me...”

Daddy! who will thrust in slowly, stretching you so well that you’ll drool on the cushion, hands pinned to the fabric and legs shaking. “My little girl is so tight...” he’s gonna grip your waist and slide out slowly and push in hard, drawing moans from you.

Daddy! who will hold your back down, pushing you onto the couch and ass in the air for him to pound and abuse, thrusting in and out hard, skin pounding with skin and loud moans in the room. “Daddy!”, “Is that what my little girl wanted?” “Yes, Daddy!” “Daddy’s cock makes you feel good, huh?” “Yes! Yes, daddy!” “That’s my good little girl.”

Daddy! who’s going to sit you on his lap, balls deep into you, lifting you up and down hard, ass slapping against his thick thighs. “Be a good little girl and ride Daddy,” his hands gripping the flesh of your ass tightly, pounding for you to go faster and deeper. “My little girl looks so beautiful sitting on Daddy’s cock.” his mouth sucking and biting your titties, you panting on top of him. “Daddy...”, “Is my little girl close?”

Daddy! who is going to play with your chest and thumb pressing against your clit, sending goosebumps down your body, your hands pinned through his hair as you sit hard on his legs. “Daddy!”, “Be a good little girl and cum in Daddy.” his hands holding you against his lap as you moan his name, body shuddering as you cum hard. “Daddy’s good little girl.”

Daddy! who won’t stop thrusting into you until he cums inside his pretty little girl, making you cry for the sensitivity and how good he is inside you, squeezing his cock with your gummy walls, making him shudder. “Daddy’s close, pretty little girl...”, his hands holding you in place as he fills you with white, hot liquid, thrusting inside you a few more times to make sure his pretty little girl is full.

barou shoei, ryusei shidiou, michael kaiser, kunigami rensuke, itoshi sae, raichi jingo, zantetsu tsurugi, karasu tabito, chigiri hyoma, jyubei aryu, don lorenzo, neol noa, ego, lavinho, marc snuffy

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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 4 years

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Whump you say? Geralt gets Hanahaki

I’ve been waiting for you, Anon. I’ve been waiting for this prompt specifically and boy when I tell you I might have cried writing it...

2k ish (a little less) words long. Idk why y’all were worried, it’s me. It’s gonna have a happy ending.

tw: Hanahaki, blood mention, illness, angst with a happy ending, whump with a happy ending ---

It had started up just before they parted ways for the winter; Geralt had quietly coughed a handful of rose petals into the corner of his cloak and hidden them from sight as Jaskier gave him their yearly parting embrace. “See you in the spring, Geralt!”

“Hmm.”

You might not ever see me again, actually, the Witcher thought. He tried not to let anything show on his face; not his fear and certainly not his longing, but he ached to tell Jaskier that he loved him and that he’d miss the bard’s presence through the long and dreary cold of the winter months. Geralt also knew that if he told Jaskier the truth about his feelings that he may never set eyes on the bard again anyway, regardless of how the disease currently wracking his body developed over their time apart. He was sure that Vesemir could identify whatever the strange illness was; the old swordmaster might even have a cure ready to go in the old storeroom. If not, they could send for Triss.

“Safe travels.”

“And you as well,” Geralt nodded curtly. He mounted Roach with all his usual grace and ease, biting back another cough and tasting the sickly sweet floral note of rose rising up his throat to coat his tongue again.

---

“Fuck,” Vesemir sighed. “It’s Hanahaki disease, Geralt. It’s not going to be easy to cure now that the pass is full of snow.”

“What’s Hanahaki disease?”

“It’s-” the eldest Wolf Witcher scrubbed his hand over his bearded face and took a moment to compose himself. He’d seen it happen before. He’d seen human bodies buried in the ground with entire root systems crawling from their chest cavities. He’d watched young men and women alike cough entire violet or rose or daisy buds from their mouths while they shivered with fever and seemingly unending pain, but a Witcher? Vesemir hadn’t even thought it was possible for a Witcher to contract such a frivolously deadly illness. “I don’t know exactly how to explain this to you, Geralt.”

“I won’t go screaming into the hills, if that’s what you’re afraid of,” his middle-child joked, “I can’t run very far anymore without a coughing fit.”

“I can’t send for Triss or Yennefer, either. They won’t be able to do anything,” Vesemir spoke calmly and evenly. Geralt, propped against some pillows on adoptive-father-enforced bed rest raised an eyebrow. “It’s a disease that eats at you from the inside out. It latches on to, uhm, romantic feelings and grows with them until it overtakes its host completely. Or until the host, uh… confronts those feelings head on and admits them to the object of their affection.”

“So this is…” Geralt’s eyes were wide and terrified. The eldest Wolf had never seen the stoic boy look quite so scared before, and he’d seen him go through the Trials. “This is going to kill me, is what you’re saying.”

“Who are you in love with, you stubborn oaf!?” Lambert cried, marching into the room from where he’d been lurking in the hall. He startled the other two Wolves and Geralt coughed out another handful of petals. The blood that came with them was surprisingly new.

“What do you mean!?”

“He means,” Vesemir said, as slowly as possible (so that even the great Geralt of Rivia would understand his situation), “That until you tell this person how you feel, the flowers inside you will continue to grow and dig their roots in and, if you never tell them how you feel at all, you will eventually die.”

“Then I guess my fate is sealed,” Geralt smiled sadly, settling himself back against the pillows. “My time as a Witcher is up. Coughing up flowers isn’t the worst way to go, all things considered.”

Lambert growled angrily. “I’m not ready to lose my brother yet, Geralt, so just tell us who you’re pining after and we’ll go fetch her back!”

“No.”

“Why the fuck not?!”

Geralt, growing increasingly more feverish and already exhausted from everything that had happened that afternoon, closed his eyes. “Because he deserves better than me, Lambert. He deserves so much more than I could ever give him and I’m not about to steal him away like a selfish ass and force my feelings onto him for my own sake. I’d rather die.”

“Self-sacrificing bastard,” the youngest of the Wolf Witchers snarled, storming from the room. “Ass! Cock! Fool!”

Vesemir could only nod his agreement and follow silently after.

---

Jaskier read the letter once.

Then he read it again.

After a third time through he was sure that he hadn’t misunderstood the contents.

Dear Jaskier (aka Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove, Prof. of the Seven Liberal Arts at Oxenfurt),

I am Eskel, brother to Geralt of the Wolf Witcher School at Kaer Morhen. I write to you now to ask for your presence at the keep. Geralt has fallen gravely ill and will not likely make it through the season. He does not know that I have written to you, but as his best friend and companion on the Path, I thought it my duty to invite you to see him one last time before he’s gone for good. He’s loathe to admit it, but he misses you and fears for your safety come springtime.

Sincerely,

Eskel of the Wolf School

Somewhere beneath the bright embroidery of his doublet and the hand-woven muslin of his chemise, Jaskier’s flighty, deeply-loving heart shattered into a million pieces.

He grabbed his heaviest woolen cloak from its peg near the door and made for the stables at once.

---

“Geralt!”

The White Wolf opened his eyes a sliver to confirm that he wasn’t hallucinating again; ah yes. What a lovely last dream to have before I die. Standing in the middle of his bedroom at Kaer Morhen, covered with still-melting snow, was Jaskier. The bard’s blue eyes were brimming with tears and his bottom lip was wobbling violently as he gazed upon the Witcher’s withering form.

“Geralt, what’s wrong? Your father and brothers sort of explained it to me but I’m still not sure what’s happening. You’re dying?”

“Don’t worry, bard,” Geralt smiled. A loud, sudden cough wracked his body and he bent over double, spitting a blood-spattered but fully-bloomed rose out into his cupped palm. He laughed joylessly and tossed the bloom onto his bedside table. “I’ll be out of your hair, soon. Won’t this be a last ballad to write, a wolf dying as he’s eaten by flowers?”

“I don-”

“Hush,” Geralt rasped. Jaskier dropped his cloak to the ground uncaringly and rushed to his Witcher’s side. He sat on the edge of the mattress and took Geralt’s closest hand in his, grasping the appendage to his chest and sobbing into the sword-calloused skin like his tears might save his best friend’s life. “Don’t be sad, Jaskier.”

“I am sad, Geralt! I’m absolutely fucking terrified and heartbroken and crushed! Vesemir said you could heal this at any time but you just… you just won’t because you’re stubborn and an idiot and the sweetest goddamn man I’ve ever met in my life! How dare you tell me goodbye when you are perfectly capable of fixing this problem yourself! How could you promise to see me in the spring and then break your word by dying well before the grass turns green again?! You bastard!”

“You won’t miss me after another year passes,” Geralt reassured him, flexing the hand still held tight in Jaskier’s grip. “You won’t even remember me by the time the first daisies spring up.”

“How dare you,” the bard cried again. He pressed a nervous kiss to the tip of the Witcher’s pointer finger before letting go completely and dropping his head into his own hands. “How dare you say those things to me when you know full well that I love you with all my stupid, fragile mortal heart. You asshole.”

“Wh...what?”

“I love you, Geralt!” The Witcher stared up at his friend with nothing but confusion written across his handsome features. Jaskier reached out, wiping a smear of blood away from the corner of Geralt’s mouth as tenderly as any maiden in any of the bard’s favorite romance novels. “I love you and I’ll never forgive you for letting yourself die on me like this.”

Geralt blushed. He stammered. He coughed up two or three more bloody roses and Jaskier tossed them all into the fire with rage blazing in his cornflower irises.

“I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything on this gods-forsaken Continent and now you’re going to take yourself away because you’re, what, scared of something? Is it Yennefer? If she’s refusing to help you then I’ll ride all the way to Vengerberg by daybreak and then I’ll break all her fucking fi-”

“I love you, too.”

“What?” Jaskier asked, stopped mid-rant and mid-thought by the Witcher’s sudden admission. “What did you just say to me, Geralt? If I didn’t misunderstand, you said you loved me too.”

“I did. I do! I have loved you for a rather long time, actually.”

“Well, I’m glad we’ve settled that,” Vesemir said from the doorway. He turned on his heel and disappeared. “See you both for breakfast tomorrow, I’m sure. Well... maybe breakfast is being a bit optimistic. I’ll see you for lunch.”

“What did he mean?” the bard asked. His eyes flitted between the empty doorway and Geralt’s guilty grimace. “What the fuck did Vesemir mean when he said he’d see us at lunch?! You’re still clearly dying and I-”

Geralt felt his fever receding and coughed experimentally. There were only a few brown, half-dried petals that fell from his lips. No blooms. He coughed again and nothing came out of his mouth at all. He grinned and laughed, tugging Jaskier up onto the bed and against his broad chest. “Vesemir was right!”

“What the fuck is going on?!” the bard begged. His hands twisted into the neckline of Geralt’s shirt, holding him still and steady. Blue bore into gold with such heated intensity that the Witcher thought he might pass out regardless of his recently healed disease, “What just happened!?”

“I- I told you I loved you and it cured the Hanahaki!”

“You had fucking Hanahaki and I was the cause of it? Oh Geralt, I’m so sorry! I should have noticed sooner! I should hav- Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“I didn’t think you loved me back.”

“You didn- Geralt, have you been paying any sort of attention for the past seven or so years? I follow you everywhere, I bandage your wounds, I put food on your plate and a pillow under your head whenever we get the chance. I bathe you and mend your clothes when your fingers are too stiff from practicing your forms to do it yourself… you utter fool. You buffoon. You great, dumb, goofy, idioti-”

He was cut off by Geralt bringing their mouths together with such gentle but insistent pressure that all Jaskier could do was melt against him. His hands unwound from the shirt and stabilized against the Witcher’s pectorals instead. He sighed into Geralt’s mouth, swallowing down the happy sounds his dearest Witcher made in return. When they were finished pouring out their affections they sat, breathless, curled against the pillows of Geralt’s enormous bed.

A large pointer finger slipped beneath Jaskier’s chin and tilted his face up, locking their gazes, “This isn’t how I wanted you to meet my family or see Kaer Morhen for the first time, but I’m glad you came. I know the journey through the snow couldn’t have been easy, even though I’m sure there was some magical assistance.”

“For you, my love, I’d travel the pass barefoot.”

“You’d die of exposure.”

“Not if your life was on the line,” the bard murmured against those flower-chapped lips. “For you, Geralt, I could survive anything. Just as you must swear from this moment on to survive whatever you can to make it back to me.”

“Will you go back to the academy until spring?”

“I’m never leaving your side again, Geralt of Rivia. Come flora or fauna, you’re stuck with me for good.”

“Hmm. Good.”

“Just… Just don’t bring me flowers any time soon.”

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portias-husband · 3 years

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Floral Question - Part 2

Floral question - Julian x Male! Reader - Part 2

Contains : Julian popping a very important question to you

A/N : I wrote half of this while I waited to have my blood taken and I’m deathly afraid of needles so yay.

This was it. He had the flowers, beautifully woven into a pattern by that strange little girl. The small bracelet with a note attached to it.

Now all he had to do was actually ask you.

The picnic he had set up was perfect. On one of the hills just outside Vesuvia, overlooking the city and a view of the sea, the sun was just about to set and there were a few soft wildflowers growing alongside the grass.

“Hey Julian! I’m here!”

Your voice rang out, and he turned his head to face you, the softest of smiles appearing on his face.

“Well don’t just stand there darling, come and sit down”

Your laughter at his words made him smile even more, and removed some of the nervous tension he was holding onto.

“Aww, you got my favourite food, I love you so much. Oh, and you brought wine too? Wow, what did I do to deserve such an amazing boyfriend such as yourself”

He knew the answer to your question.

“You did everything to deserve me. If anything it’s me who should be asking that question.”

Seeing your blush, he added something else, under his breath so you didn’t hear it.

“And i will be asking you a question soon”

You cocked you head at him, hearing his mumblings and you asked him what he said. He just shook his head, tapped his nose and told you that it was a secret.

Your pout did nothing to make him tell you and he just laughed and reached over to grab your present. The bracelet was separate, so he was going to give the flowers first. He couldn’t wait.

When he gave them to you, your surprised gasp and smile of utter love and appreciation toward him, made him think, and he pondered how to word his speech. He wanted to convey his love, but also the deep friendship that you two had. The times where you had held him as he cried about a child who had died while in his clinic, and the times he held you, when a customer had been especially rude, and had hit a nerve that really upset you.

You. His amazing boyfriend. The boy who had gotten him through his toughest times, who had made him see that he is worthy of happiness, and who had not let up when he tried to push you away.

So, instead of giving a speech that he would probably mess up and stutter his words on, he decided to pull you to him, into a hug.

You were shocked, but you eventually melted into his arms, enjoying the lovers embrace you were now in, and you were content to always stay there.

When he finally pulled away, you noticed the look of pure adoration in his eyes and it made you blush a little. Even in private, he was never usually this forward when it came to his affection. But you enjoyed it, and indulged him as he reached his hand to your cheek, stroking in small lines across it. His other hand however, reached for the bracelet.

After softly kissing your lips, he asked you to hold out your hand and close your eyes.

You of course obliged and he placed the bracelet into your hand. When you opened your eyes, you stared in slight confusion down at it.

“Hear me out okay?”

He spoke suddenly causing you to snap your head back at him. The look is his eyes was almost desperate, and so, even though you were now worried about what the next words would be, you nodded.

“Ever since we met, you’ve been amazing, like so amazing that sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve you. But over time, you’ve helped me realise that I don’t need to deserve you, that you love me, and that I love you and that is enough for us. You’re always there for me whenever I doubt myself, and you keep me grounded. You force me to take care of myself, pulling me to bed and feeding me my favourite meals when I haven’t eaten due to overworking myself. And, well, the thing is, I just want that to always be my life. I know that I always want to wake up with half the blanket stolen from me, and I want to always have funny face fights whenever one of us is feeling down.”

“I want those things, and I want them forever, not just with anyone but I want them with you. Always, just you.”

“So please, I know this may be sudden but, I just, I want to be with you for the rest of our lifes, so please, my darling boy, my incredible boyfriend. Do you wanna be my husband? Will, will you marry me?”

By the end of his speech, he was out of breath. The words had come out so fast that he wasn’t breathing in between then. You on the other hand, were now crying, tears pouring down your face, hand over your mouth, covering the brilliant smile that had appeared on it.

“You mean it?”

That was all you could utter before your mouth exploded with your next words.

“Yes!”

He stared at you in shock before returning to your smile and he pulled you into him, flopping down so you were resting on his chest. His arms wrapped tightly around you, muttering various variations of “thank you” and “I love you”.

Nothing else mattered in that moment, to either of you. Everything felt perfect.

#the arcana #the arcana game #portia devorak #the arcana julian #the arcana portia #julian devorak #asra alnazar #the arcana lucio #the arcana nadia #the arcana asra #julian x reader #julian x apprentice #julian x mc #the arcana fanfic #arcana fanfic #julians route

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jaskierswolf · 3 years

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For Your Love

Prompt: A/B/O Dynamics Relationships: Jaskier/Valdo Rating: E Content Warnings: A/B/O, Omega Jaskier, Alpha Valdo, smut, heat/mating cycles, anal sex Summary: Having been contained all his life by overbearing parents, Jaskier is determined to take Oxenfurt by storm, starting with one Valdo Marx.

Beta’d by @wolf-and-bard, written for @dani-dandelino who wanted horny Valskier with a side of fluff.

Part of my @witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo card. One left!

This is also inspired by the song ‘For Your Love’ by Måneskin.

Oxenfurt, a city unlike any other. It was buzzing with life, music, and people. The university itself had a small campus in the middle of the city, contained behind beautiful golden gates that were lavishly decorated and extravagant. The designs themselves were Elven, a tribute to the ancient history of the city. It had been a long time since the Continent had seen any pureblood elves, the last had died out a couple of centuries ago.

Jaskier’s ancestors were amongst them. The young, budding musician was a quarter-elf, if the rumours were to be believed, but of course the House of Lettenhove would never admit to such scandal. They were nobles of the twattiest kind, and Jaskier hated it. They’d only let him study at Oxenfurt because he’d promised that he would stay on blockers and present as a beta for his time at the university. It wasn’t unusual, a lot of omegas preferred to hide their true nature until they were mated.

But Jaskier was bored of hiding.

It was the twenty-first century and he was eighteen. He’d suffer through enough heats on his own. Fingers and toys were poor substitutes for an alpha’s knot, well, he assumed as much. He’d never experienced the latter but his body needed more. It knew that the toys he stuffed up his arse weren’t the real thing, and he was left sobbing into his sheets, desperate, weak and wanting.

So the first thing Jaskier did when he arrived at Oxenfurt was sell his blockers. He thought about dumping them down the drain, but he’d been cut off from his parent’s bank account whilst he was at uni. He had to survive on the budget they’d given him, and it was measly. His parents clearly didn’t want him to have any fun whilst he was at university.

The joke was on them.

Jaskier was going to find the hottest alpha on campus and make them his. It didn’t take him long to put his plan into action. After a couple of days of being off the blockers, his natural omega scent had come back and he could already feel the prickle of pre-heat under his skin. Jaskier had identified his target. Now he just needed to woo the man.

But Valdo Marx wasn’t going to be an easy goal. He was a tall, slender man with long dark hair and molten chocolate eyes. He was cocky beyond compare, an easy arrogance that came with being an alpha, but he lacked the brutishness that Jaskier would usually associate with alphas. In fact, to look at the man, one might think he was an omega, or a beta at a push. He strutted around with his shirt open, tattoos on displays, black nail polish on both hands, and dark make-up around his eyes. He was fucking beautiful, but most importantly he was an alpha.

And Jaskier knew he had to have him.

The bastard smelled absolutely divine, and he had a wicked tongue that cut down anyone that stood in his way. Jaskier was completely smitten. With his heat incoming, he knew he was running out of time, but Valdo would be out on the town that night and it would be the perfect opportunity to seduce him. So, Jaskier pulled out his sluttiest outfit, a sheer black shirt that really hid absolutely nothing, unbuttoned down to his navel for extra hoe energy. He matched it with his cutest booty shorts that his parents had absolutely forbidden. There was a pretty gold chain around his neck, drawing attention to his unmarked scent gland, and his finest golden, jewelled rings on his fingers. The final touch was blood red lipstick.

He knew he looked obscene.

If Valdo didn’t want him then he had no doubt some other feral alpha would be lured to his nest, but he wanted Valdo. He hadn’t spent all morning making his nest perfect for some second rate alpha. Jaskier deserved the best, and only the best.

The alpha was surrounded by his posse of second years. All were music or English students, just like Valdo, just like Jaskier too. The music thrummed through Jaskier’s body as he made his way across the room, drunk on Valdo’s scent alone. It was a risky move coming out in pre-heat like this, even Jaskier wasn’t idiotic enough to not realise the potential danger he’d put himself in, naive perhaps, but not totally clueless. He didn’t miss the way a few of the other alphas’ eyes followed him, a dark hunger in their eyes.

No, Jaskier would not be going home alone tonight.

It was just a question of who with.

Jaskier bared his neck as he approached Valdo, presenting his scent gland and letting out a low purr. Having been sheltered most of his life by his overbearing parents, he was mostly just following his instincts and what he’d seen in the films he’d sneaked off to see with Essi. He wasn’t sure if this was the best way to flirt but he was determined.

Valdo finally looked at him, catching Jaskier under his heated gaze. It was almost enough to bring Jaskier to his knees. He could already feel the slick in his panties, they would almost certainly be ruined. Jaskier bit his lip and brushed past the betas surrounding the alpha, they parted easily as he waved them aside. His scent was strong enough to affect betas when he was nearing heat. It didn’t turn them into the mindless animals that alphas could be, but it definitely made them pliable.

That was the thing most alphas and betas, i.e. Jaskier’s darling family, didn’t understand. Omegas weren’t weak-willed and fragile. They didn’t need to be protected by a big strong alpha. They weren’t helpless. Omegas simply had different talents, and seduction was one of them. It was a weapon in the hands of an omega, even one as innocent and inexperienced as Jaskier. With just a few words he knew he could have this entire bar in a state of chaos. The alphas would be fighting over him and the betas would be forced to flee for their own safety.

Luckily for them all, Jaskier had already made his choice.

“Julian,” Valdo growled, his eyes lingering on Jaskier’s neck, “you shouldn’t be out smelling like that. It’s indecent.”

Jaskier just pouted at the older man. “Oh but darling, you were out tonight.”

Valdo’s nostrils flared, his knuckles white as he gripped the arms of his chair. “Your point, omega?” he sneered, but Jaskier could see the burning heat in his eyes.

Jaskier smirked, leaning forward to brush his lips against Valdo’s cheek, one hand resting on the alpha’s shoulder. “I want to be the first man you look at tonight,” he whispered, his fingers running down Valdo’s chest, tracing the lines of his tattoos. “I want to be stuck in your head and make you go wild.”

The alpha growled and gripped Jaskier by his collar, pulling Jaskier onto his lap with an undignified yelp. “You’re trouble, Julian. Why should I go to your bed? You’re not the only slutty omega in this city.”

Jaskier pouted, wincing under Valdo’s sharp words. He bristled slightly, taking advantage of position to grind his arse against the alpha’s lap. “For your love, alpha, I'll do whatever you want,” he purred, running his nose under Valdo’s jaw and pressing his lips against the alpha’s scent gland. God, it smelled so fucking good. Better than Jaskier had ever imagined, and Valdo visibly shivered under his touch. “So baby why don't you please me now, I've got so much I can give to you.”

“Pretty little omega whore,” Valdo snarled, pushing Jaskier from his lap, long fingers wrapped around Jaskier’s wrist in a firm grip. “I’ll take you, if you’re a good boy, but I don’t like to share, understood?”

Jaskier nodded eagerly. “Yes, alpha.”

The walk back to the dorms was possibly the longest walk of Jaskier’s life. He almost ran in front of two different cars in his eagerness, and it was only Valdo’s grip on his wrists that saved his life with a quiet “patience, omega” growled into his ear.

But Jaskier was beyond patience now. The close proximity to his desired alpha was messing with his heat, and he was tumbling from pre-heat into a full blown mess of lust at breakneck speed. He whined, pulling Valdo’s wrists against his scent gland, pressing kisses to the alpha’s palm. His shorts were drenched in his own slick and he felt so fucking empty. He needed… he needed…

“Alpha please,” he whimpered as he was pressed against a wall. The stone felt cold against the burning fire under his skin, but it wasn’t enough. His heats had never felt like this before. It was intense, overwhelming, too much.

“Tell me what you want,” Valdo snarled, his teeth grazing against Jaskier’s scent gland, making him whine as he bucked his hips. “I’ll give you what you want, omega.”

“Your knot, Valdo… alpha,” Jaskier panted. He’d never felt this desperate before, not even when he’d been days into his heat without an alpha to look after him. “I- I…” Jaskier broke off with a moan as Valdo bit his neck, just shy of his scent gland, a tease of what a mating bite would feel like.

“You beg so well, pretty little thing,” Valdo hummed, there was the click of a door and they stumbled inside.

But it was wrong.

This wasn’t his room.

Jaskier keened, tears welling up in his eyes. “No-no… my nest, alpha.”

The alpha growled and pinched his nose. “Where’s your room, Julian?”

“C block, Bardling Flats,” Jaskier stammered, barely able to focus but this wasn’t right. It didn’t smell right, he’d made a perfect nest for his heat. He needed his nest. This wasn’t right.

Valdo scruffed the back of his neck and he melted into the alpha’s embrace. “Shhh, omega, I’ve got you. It’s not far.”

And despite his slender frame, Valdo scooped Jaskier up into his arms, whispering reassuring words in Jaskier's ear, running his fingers through his hair. It was all very tender, not at all what Jaskier had been expecting from the alpha, but it calmed the sobs that wracked through his body.

“I knew you were trouble, Julian,” Valdo chuckled.

Jaskier whimpered and whined all the way back to his dorm, pressing his body up against his alpha’s, kissing the exposed skin under Valdo’s shirt, tracing the lines of his tattoos with his lips, his tongue. Valdo’s scent was driving him mad, lust and want surrounding Jaskier in a haze.

“Alpha,” he stammered as Valdo finally let him down. Jaskier was barely able to get his key into the lock. His hands were shaking too much, but the alpha took the key from his hands with a soft growl, unlocking the door with ease.

They were home.

And his nest was still perfect. Jaskier lunged for the bed, shedding his clothes as he went before diving under the sheets. With a helpless whine, he shoved two fingers into his hole, desperate to end the empty ache deep inside of him. Slick covered his hands and thighs, and he instinctively got onto his hands and knees to present to his alpha. He would be the perfect omega.

“Oh, Julian, look at you,” Valdo snarled, “so eager, so pretty. My little whore!”

“Yes, alpha, yours,” Jaskier gasped. “Fuck me, knot me, mark me, please!”

The words made something inside of Valdo snap. Any scrap of control that he had left was lost, a growl tearing from his throat, feral and possessive. Jaskier whimpered, his hand wrapping around his cock in a pitiful attempt to dampen the fire, precum was already leaking onto his blankets. He wanted more. He needed more. Valdo’s hands were on Jaskier’s hips and Jaskier cried out as the musician’s long fingers pressed inside his hole with little resistance, expertly finding that sweet spot, and making sparks fly in front of Jaskier’s vision. He whined and pushed back onto his alpha’s hand, it wasn’t enough.

“Alpha,” he sobbed helplessly, stroking his cock as he writhed on Valdo’s fingers. If he had been alone then he would have already had his toys deep up his arse, and he really wasn’t enjoying the teasing.

“Oh darling,” Valdo growled, one hand stroking down Jaskier’s spine, “my pretty little omega, I want to fuck you till you scream and cry.”

Jaskier keened at his alpha’s words, rutting into his own hand, a mess of slick and cum as he half collapsed onto the bed. “F- fuck, alpha, I - I…”

He didn’t have the coherency or the time to finish his sentence, his words dying on his lips as Valdo’s fingers were replaced by something else, soft and wet lapping at his hole. Jaskier sobbed and buried his face in the blankets and pillows, still rutting helplessly into the nest, but his alpha held him down. He licked around Jaskier’s rim, cleaning up the mess and coaxing Jaskier into another blinding orgasm, but the fire still hadn’t abated. Jaskier writhed and moaned, begging for more. He’d never had a heat quite like this, and all he knew were his alpha’s hands on his, the aching fire at his core, and the desperate need to be filled, knotted, bred.

When Valdo finally slid inside him it was like a dream. His cock was larger than the toys Jaskier played with, and, even without his knot, Jaskier could feel the stretch. Every thrust of his alpha’s hips pushed that wonderful cock deeper into him, pounding his prostate and making Jaskier sing. It was a stream of babbling nonsense, a mess of “alpha”, “fuck”, “please”. Jaskier came twice more on Valdo’s cock before he finally felt the press of his alpha’s knot against his rim. Exhausted and desperate, Jaskier sobbed, his fingers clinging to the sheets beneath him, now covered in cum and slick and sweat. His nest reeked of sex, of them; Valdo and Jaskier… together.

“K- knot me… please,” he whimpered, his voice hoarse and wrecked.

Valdo’s hands threaded into Jaskier’s hair, pulling his head back as his knot forced its way inside Jaskier, locking them together. “I'll give you what you want, my omega,” Valdo snarled, “my omega.”

“Yours,” Jaskier whimpered, too fucked out and exhausted to argue. They weren’t bonded, and Valdo had made no attempt to bite him, but in that moment Jaskier belonged to the alpha. “Mine,” he slurred, trying to adjust their positions so he could curl up to his alpha until the knot went down. It had only been the first day of his heat, and there would be more to come, but the first wave was finally sated. He purred as he rubbed his scent gland against Valdo’s chest.

The alpha laughed and pressed a kiss to his hair. “Yours,” he agreed, “Now sleep, little omega. I want to hold you in my arms tonight.”

Jaskier giggled, pressing a kiss to one of Valdo’s tattoos before nipping gently at the glistening skin. “Only until the next time, Marx. Think you can handle it?”

There was a low growl that rumbled in the alpha’s chest, and Valdo’s fingers pinched at Jaskier’s neck. “Trouble, Julian. Go to sleep, omega, you’ll need the rest,” Valdo purred, a trace of his alpha voice leaking into the words.

Jaskier sighed happily, a low purr in his own chest, as he let the exhaustion overcome him, and he fell into a blissful sleep.

#the witcher #jaskier x valdo #Jaskier #valdo marx #a/b/o au #wolfie's witcher writing

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slutforagoodsmut · 3 years

Text

Pinky Promise (Valerius x Reader)

Genre: Angst, In da feelings ;-;

Song: By Ellise

You were tired, to say the least. Tired and frustrated and basically over everything. You had given your all to Valerius; your attention, dedication and love, and yet that never seemed to be enough. He wanted more, so much more than you could ever offer. He wanted someone with status, he wanted someone with power, and you simply didn’t have either.

Things were so good between you and the consel in the beginning. You loved him, and he loved you, and there was nothing else to it. You both understood each other, you adored one another, between the late night walks in the garden at the palace and the endless conversations, it’s almost as if you both were meant to be, almost as if it was destiny.

Yeah.....almost.

The love letters became scarce over time, the only thing Valerius ever talked about in his letters nowadays were when the next meetings were with the Countess, or what the plans were to better the economy. Don’t get me wrong, you enjoyed getting messages from him regardless, but it couldn’t help but sting a little. He didn’t hold your hand the way he used to, barely kissed you, he didn’t look at you with the same loving eyes, Gods—you practically had to beg him to spend the night with you. He was just so....cold. And you had enough. You felt like this was all so one sided, as if nothing mattered to Valerius anymore. Did he even ask how you were anymore? Did he ever say that he loved you? And the answer was no. You never wanted to admit it, but a hatred formed inside you for that man, it was quickly engulfing any love and affection you had for him. The nights were restless, you barely ate since your anxiety was so high, functioning during the day was near impossible. You didn’t want to believe things were over, you never wanted that. But what else could you possibly do? Were you truly the reason why this relationship has even lasted? Because you’ve never wanted things to end and Valerius was too coward to break things off?

“I believe that concludes our meeting for the month, speak up if you have any questions.” The Countess and your good friend Nadia stood from her seat. Consels from many other regions came to take part in this meeting, including Valerius. You sat near Nadia, all the way across from your “lover”, and in between Julian and Asra. You kept your eyes on Valerius the whole time, and not once did he look at you. Of course this was an important meeting, but still, he’d always throw you a little wink or smirk. Everyone around the table shook their heads, content with the material that was looked over for the next few months of trading. Many took their leave, only a few still lingering in the room, when a voice spoke up from behind you.

“Actually, Countess, I do have a couple of suggestions.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes at Valerius. Of course he did. Of course he did. Nadia gave him her full attention, Valerius coming up beside you. “Yes, Consul Valerius?” It just so happened that his fingers brushed yours at your side, attempting to curl around them but you quickly pulled away. You felt his eyes burn into your head at the corner of your eye.

“Ah, yes, well, perhaps I could propose a different strategy to quicker trading routes? Maybe if our goods were boarded from a closer port in Pakra—”

“I will see you in the evening, Nadia.” You pushed passed Valerius, bumping into his shoulder as fury bubbled within you. That. That. That POMPOUS PRICK. You quickly made your way to your room, slamming the door behind you and groaning out in frustration. You were so confused, he sent so many mixed signals. He was so moody and harsh most days but those little gestures completely messed you up. What did he want? What does he want from you?

After a few minutes of pacing in your room, there was a banging on your door. Not a simple knock, but a bang. You went over to your door and swung it open, and it was non other than the consel. His gaze was harsh, his upper lip curled up into a snarl.

“What?” You narrowed your eyes.

“Whatever the fuck do you mean, what?” He spat. “What was that back there?” Valerius pointed down the hall.

“Nothing happened! You’re being dramatic!”

“Dramatic?” Valerius pushed his way inside your room and closed the door. “You shoved me in front of the Countess and many other consuls! Do you realize how that could spark rumors?”

“Are....are you joking?” You chuckled, shaking your head. “Are you delirious? You went to grab my hand in front of the countess! I merely bumped into you! How could that possibly spark rumors?”

“Anything could branch out into rumors!”

“So that makes you a hypocrite, yes?” You pointed your finger at Valerius, who for a second got his tongue tied in a knot and couldn’t speak. “Godforbid anyone finds out you’re in a relationship with the “witch”, your whole world would come crumbling down! Wouldn’t it?” You became progressively louder, grabbing books and chucking them all over the room. “Your social status! Your power! All of it would be stripped away! Some days you act like you hate me, others you act like I’m the greatest person to walk the earth!” You got closer to Valerius, staring up at him as your fists shook, tears pricking your eyes. “What in the ever living fuck did I do to you? What is it? What is so embarrassing about me that others can’t know about us?”

Furious wasn’t even the right word you would describe Valerius’ face right now. It was contorted into such an angry, flustering mess, as if he were caught up in his own web of lies and hypocrisies. “They just.....can’t.”

“I....” You were dumbfounded, to say the least. “I’m over this...”

“Of course you are, it’s always how you end our arguments—“

“No, I mean this,” you gestured to the both of you, furrowing your brows, “this isn’t working. We fight, we scream at each other, nothing is solved. I’m done with having my emotions toyed with.”

A flash of shock gleamed across Valerius’ eyes, stepping back a bit. “What are you saying?”

You stepped back yourself, taking in a deep breath, trying to get your shit back together before blowing like a volcano again.

I gotta ask you a question

Can you see through me

See how I’m feeling?

Is it easy to tell?

You looked away from him, squeezing your eyes shut as you moved passed Valerius, opening the door and leaving your own room.

“Come back here!”

Cause you’re making plans and it’s starting to scare me

I don’t think you notice I’m not doing well

You know me, I’ve been patient

It’s been hard

It’s wearing me down

You peered over your shoulder, throwing him a sharp, hateful look as you walked down the hall. “Wait a second!” He grabbed your shoulder as you turned the corner, but you smacked his arm away, turning to face him on your heel.

So I’m sorry

But caring ‘bout you is getting so exhausting

Doing things I swore that I would never do

Never do

But I promise you, I promise you

I promise to be honest

Cause honestly boy I don’t even want this

Doing things I swore that I would never do

Never do

But I promise you

I pinky promise I don’t love you anymore

Despite your harsh words, Valerius continued to follow you down the halls of the Vesuvia Palace, attempting to grab your attention again. “For heavens sake can you just stop for a moment?” His voice thick with fear.

We’re both in different places

And I need some space

And we’re probably better not talking at all

You finally turned back around, your jaw clenched as your hands rested on his shoulders, holding him in his tracks.

Cause maybe I don’t deserve you

I don’t wanna hurt you

Can’t give you a smile if it’s just for a show

You know me, I’ve been patient

It’s been hard

It’s wearing me down

Tears finally slipped down your cheeks as you almost pressed against his warm, comforting body you slept against oh so many nights. Were you really doing this? Were you truly going to break things off?

So I’m sorry

But caring ‘bout you is getting so exhausting

Doing things I swore that I would never do

Never do

But I promise you, I promise you

I promise to be honest

Cause honestly boy I don’t even want this

Doing things I swore that I would never do

Never do

But I promise you

I pinky promise I don’t love you anymore

Valerius gulped, trying to swallow back any emotion that attempted to come up. He went to grab your waist with trembling hands but of course you pulled away, not giving him the chance to. You turned another corner, and before the both of you knew it you were headed into the ballroom.

“I—“

We talked about a future but now it’s in the past

I don’t regret the memories but knew they wouldn’t last

I know that’s it’s not easy to give up what we had

I made myself a promise and I’m not looking back...

“Please!” Valerius fell to his knees, grabbing your wrists and holding them tightly in his palms. “Please....don’t do this....things could change.” His head hung low, his shoulders shaking as his body racked with silent sobs. “Things could be better....” A silence fell over the both of you. You pressed your lips into a tight line, looking away as more tears threatened to mess with your vision some more. Gods, he looked so pathetic and vulnerable.

You pulled out of his grip.

So I’m sorry

But caring ‘bout you is getting so exhausting

Doing things I swore that I would never do

Never do

But I promise you, I promise you

I promise to be honest

You gripped your hair in frustration, stomping on the ground as your heart began to shatter into millions of pieces. This wasn’t fair! This wasn’t how things were suppose to go! He was suppose to be there forever, right?

Right....?

Cause honestly boy I don’t even want this

Doing things I swore that I would never do

Never do

But I promise you

“I pinky promise I don’t love you anymore....” Your hand clasped around your mouth. Unspoken words had come to life. Untold truths were out in the open. You didn’t love him anymore. Not in love with him at least. You wished him well in whatever he did, but this could not continue. The pounding of your heart rang in your ears and you attempted to wipe your endless tears away.

“I...just....” the consul just sat there, absolutely horrified. He was disheveled, his braid starting to tangle, his face streaked with tears, his eyes swollen and red. For a man of great honor and status, he certainly did not look like such. You stumbled back, choking on a sob as you turned your back on the man you once loved, rushing out so you could suffer this heartbreak alone in your room. He wasn’t going to chase you anymore. He wasn’t going to beg for you anymore. People must’ve saw your little scene with Valerius. He’d have a reputation to fight for.

I pinky promise I don’t love you anymore....

#valerius x reader #consul valerius #the arcana #angsty #crying in the club #this is a mess #i’m a mess #the arcana x reader

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dread-on-arrival · 4 years

Text

Richard Ramirez - The Night Stalker: Family Background

Serial Killer Masterlist

Childhood Part 1

Word Count: 3505

Richard Ramirez, the man who left at least thirteen dead, paralysing the city of Los Angeles throughout the summer of 1985. His name alone makes people prickle with fear as they remember the acts of horror he committed on children and adults alike. Yet he still fascinates people; the Night Stalker Case was what got me interested in true crime and how the human brain can be so drastically changed by mental and physical events. I have spent countless hours reading up on his crimes, trial, personality, drifter lifestyle and the tragic childhood that played a huge role in creating the monster we all know and fear. I collect this information I have read many articles on Richard Ramirez and watched videos discussing his life. My main source of information was ‘The Life and Crimes of Richard Ramirez The Night Stalker’ by Philip Carlo, I highly recommend. Georgia Marie’s video also gave a slightly summarised version of Ramirez’s life so watch that here if you are interested.

Compared to the other detailed multiple part series I am doing for the Serial Killers, this one is going to be exceptionally long simply because I have copious amounts of information about Richard. The other Serial Killers I cover will be very detailed as well don’t worry I just simply have so much I want to share about him. We will start with the background of his family, the next part will cover his childhood however I cannot confirm when it will be out but I am writing it from now. Anyway, lets get into the background of the Ramirez family.

With three older brothers and an older sister, Richard Ramirez - Richie as the family fondly remembers him - was the youngest of five to Julian Tapia Ramirez and Mercedes Ramirez.

Julian Ramirez was born in the rough city of Camargo in Mexico, February 16th 1927. He was the second oldest of eight children who were raised on a poor farm. He was large, with the power to match it, high well-defined cheekbones and jet-black hair making him a considerably attractive man. His features were often characteristics of the Ramirez men.

Jose Ramirez, his father, was a stern man who rarely showed any signs of joy. Jose had inherited his dark eyes and tight, firm lips from his father, Inacia, but also had inherited his Father’s horrible temper. Julian’s mother, Roberta, had died when he was only 12 leaving a lot of the responsibility to raise the large family on him since he was the oldest boy.

Corporal punishment was something Jose and Inacia firmly believed in, if any of the eight children did not keep up with expectations they were quick to receive a severe beating. It was a normal occurrence for fathers to beat their children in Mexico - to teach them respect and discipline - however the beatings from Julian’s father and grandfather often blurred the line between discipline and abuse. Inacia would beat Julian the most, tying him to a tree and whipping him with a rope causing Julian to became very withdrawn. He wouldn’t cry when he was beaten and would just wait until the older men’s anger was vented, he was beaten the most since he was the oldest.

At 14 Julian stood up for himself. He tore the belt from his father’s hands and said sternly, “You are not beating me anymore.” In Camargo a child could be executed for disobeying their father but nothing was done and from then on Julian was never beaten again. He never should have been beaten anyway, he was a good child and always did what he could to benefit his family. Julian never swore, smoked and rarely drank. He went to church every Sunday with his family and firmly believed in Jesus and the powers of Satan. He never got past the first grade in school as he was needed to work on the farm 24/7.

The city itself was small with no available electricity, railroad or even a phone so everyone knew of each other. Julian met his future wife, Mercedes, when they were 14.

Mercedes Muñoz was part of another big family, one of seven children - four boys, three girls and was born in Rocky Ford, Colorado. They were another poor family but made the most of what they could. When America joined World War II Guadalupe, Mercedes mother, decided it would be best to leave the US for Camargo. She believed her sons should not be drafted for the war because their blood should not be spilt because of the fights between politicians. It was well known the government were corrupt (some to this day still are). From the moment she arrived in Camargo she became friends with Julian’s sisters and that was how they were introduced. Mercedes was pretty, she was tall and thin, large doe-eyes, a broad forehead and her hands and fingers were long and finely tapered, ‘beautiful enough to have modelled’ - The Life and Crime of Richard Ramirez The NightStalker - Philip Carlo.

Julian and Mercedes didn’t truly start to date until 19 when they would go for walks around Camargo’s only park and watch movies at Camargo’s only cinema.

Once the war was over 1946, Nacho - Mercedes’ brother - had moved to the town of Juarez to work in a post office, Juarez was the border town beside El Paso, Texas. There was little work in Camargo due to its size so to get work you would have to move. Luckily the Muñoz children were American citizens since they were born in the United States and they could legally travel to El Paso for work so Guadalupe made the decision to move which meant Mercedes herself would have to go too. Her relationship with Julian would have to be put behind her for the time being.

After moving to Juarez in the August of 1947, any body old enough to get a job was put to work. Juarez was a very violent place and anything could be bought for not much money at all: drugs, stolen American goods, prostitutes, even sex with minors. These horrific things are common in many border towns. Mercedes found the place disgusting and horrifying, she was horrified and scared of the crimes committed all around her.

But something she looked forward to was writing to Julian, although he struggled with writing he got his sister to teach him how. The letters may have been short but they were full of love; telling her how much he missed her and how lonely it had become without her. She shared the same sentiment.

Not long after Mercedes left Julian got drafted, he was taught to shoot and use all kind of weapons. He was never deployed because he contracted scarlet fever. He was discharged and sent back to Camarge - thin and sick his sister had to help him get back to good health. He was determined to get to Mercedes in Juarez and wrote to her, asking to marry her. She was full of joy and said yes but her mother did not want the marriage to take place, going as far to forbade it. As much as Julian was hardworking she judged him on the fact that he had no education nor skills, she felt her Mercedes deserved far better. She wasn’t the only one to dislike this marriage, the Ramirez’s thought Mercedes’ family acted as though they were more important then everyone else.

Yet the couple were determined, both rarely defied their own families however the love they shared for one another was too strong and with the little possessions he had, Julian arrived in Juarez on the 3rd of August 1948 and they married on the 9th six days later in the Juarez City Hall in front of a few friends. They had no honeymoon due to lack of money. They were only 19.

They agreed that they would make sure their own children would have everything that they didn’t as children, a happy life with financial security and in Julian’s case, no beatings.

Mercedes continued her work as a housekeeper in El Paso, they could live in the States since she had been born there. She wanted to move there because the crime in Juarez was too much for her. Julian was content in Mexico but he knew how much his wife disliked the city so he applied for US citizenship. They had both heard of the ‘American Dream’ and she wanted her children to be born in the US so they could live out this dream. Finally Julian reluctantly accepted and they moved into a small one bedroom, one bathroom apartment in El Paso in Fourth and Canal.

Also during this time Guadalupe began to warm to Julian, she realised how hardworking he was and how much he loved her daughter. They started going for meals at Guadalupe - they didn’t live far from her in Juarez.

Within months Mercedes was pregnant with their first son, Ruben. At the time - unknown to the people of El Paso - the U.S government had been testing nuclear weapons in the nearby city of Los Alamos, New Mexico. It wasn’t known about the effects of Nuclear fallout and the wind more often then not carried the fallout over Juarez and El Paso, polluting the water, milk and Cattle. Between 1950 and 1954 the testing was most frequent, correlating with the high rate of birth defects in babies, causing physical issues and mental issues alike. It became known what was causing this but people were hesitant to speak out about it to the government - after all the Nuclear bomb had won them the war.

Ruben was born without much difficultly however he was born with large lumps up his back, neck and head and he was incredibly sick. At the time the doctor didn’t understand but he thought the bomb tests definitely had something to do with it. Ruben got very ill and it was believed he wouldn’t make it yet after a few weeks the lumps began to disappear and got better. The family owed this to a divine intervention. Ruben was allowed to go home and Julian would often take him for long walks down the roads of El Paso, telling him stories and smiling joyously constantly.

Just two months later, Mercedes was pregnant again. She wanted a girl but most of all she wanted a healthy baby and for the atomic bomb tests to stop, for all the evil to go away from her little family. This pregnancy was also easy, Joseph was born (named after Mercedes’ favourite brother). He was healthy, both Julian and Mercedes’ thanked God. Two sons in a row was a good omen according to Guadalupe and Julian considered himself a very lucky man.

At six months old Joseph started to cry much more frequently. As though he was in serious pain. His parents tried everything to calm the baby but nothing would work. He was taken to the El Paso clinic, neither could they find the problem so they sent him back home. The crying only became more extreme as each day passed. The second time he was taken to a clinic he was nearly 1 year old. After an examination the doctor announced that poor Joseph’s bones were not growing correctly and they never would. He didn’t quite understand why and sent them to a specialist who told them that Joseph had a disease called Collier which caused the bones to curve as they grew. This was also a direct result of the nuclear testing nearby - still nobody wanted to shame to war winning bomb though. Dr. Perry Rogers told the Ramirezes that he would cut away at the curved part of the bone and would construct a metal heal that would allow Joseph to somewhat walk right. But he warned them that he would require many more operations because the bones would continue to grow incorrectly. There was no proper cure. Any money they could spare was handed over to Dr. Rogers to pay for the operations, they never asked any other families for help so they simply worked longer and harder. Joseph had his first surgery at 17 months old and it helped briefly but he began crying in pain again not long after. The family often went to the Sacred Heart Church on Oregon street to pray for Joseph’s pain and disease to go away.

A while later Julian became a construction worker in El Paso even though he didn’t have the proper papers. He needed the money though, this job payed far better then the factory job he previously worked in.

In the year of 1952 immigration border guards payed Julian a visit at the construction site to ask for his papers. He told them he didn’t have them but that his wife was an American citizen so he could stay but they told him that he needed papers and was to be deported immediately. After some persuasion he was allowed to go and tell his wife what was going to happen however once at the apartment the guards said that whole family was going to be deported. Their landlord came to their defence, he agreed that they were American citizens and that they should stay. No protests worked, at 3pm the little family and all their belongings were dumped on a corner on the Mexican side of the Sante Fe bridge.

Julain told Mercedes to take herself and the children to her mother’s house a mile away, he would stay and fight off any thieves who attempted to take their belongings. On a good weekend in Juarez there was twenty murders. Mercedes began the short but treacherous walk to her mother’s, holding Ruben by the hand and a crying Joseph in her arms.

She reached Guadalupe’s without an incident and her two brothers - Joseph and Manuel - took a neighbours truck to move the family’s possessions to the house. It took two trips.

Once settled, Julian went out looking for work. He met a friend who was working as a policeman. His friend took him to the Commandante of the Juarez police. Julian said he didn’t know much about being a policeman but the Commandante didn’t mind and thought he looked right to be a policeman. Since he was experienced with guns due to his time in the military, he was put in charge of teaching the Juarez police to maintain and shoot firearms properly. But Mercedes wasn’t overly happily. Mexico was like South America, police officers were often killed if they got in the way.

Julian Ramirez in 1951 after becoming a police officer - From Philip Carlo’s personal collection of photos.

Mercedes had their third son Robert, he presented no problems.

Finally Julian’s American Citizenship papers were approved and with the good of his sons in mind he quit his job and the family moved back to El Paso in early 1954. They got a small apartment in the second ward at Seventh and Canal. Julian got a job at the Santa Fe railroad, laying track. It was hard work and he was often out of town for days but the wages were good. He knew he had made the right decision for his wife and children.

The Ramirez apartment - From Philip Carlo’s personal collection of photos.

Mercedes got a job at a famous boot-maker in Texas called Tony Lama. Her wages were also much better and she had managed to find a Mexican women who could care for her sons while she was out working, she wanted someone good to look after them since she was nervous to leave them for too long.

She would mix pigments and chemicals for the boots colours to paint the boots and treat them with fixatives so the colour would last. Similar to the Nuclear tests, these chemicals were often toxic and required ventilation when being used but the people working with them were unaware at the time. She spent seven hours a day, five days a week exposed to these toxic chemicals and quickly developed dizzy spells meaning she would have to sit down for periods of time to recover.

Six months after being employed she was pregnant again, Julian was overjoyed as this was the fourth pregnancy in fours year and he felt like the luckiest man alive.

Finally one of Mercedes’ dreams became true. She had a healthy little girl who she named Ruth, a little girl to help her out in a house full of boys. Julian was happy as well, he knew Ruth would always have three older brothers to keep her out of harms way.

Every weekend Julian would dress up and go and visit his police friends in Juarez, occasionally bringing along his sons and talk to them in Spanish. He wanted them to learn English and do well in American but he also did not want them to forget about their heritage. His sister moved to El Paso the same year, bring her son Miguel who was the same age as Ruben, the two became close friends the moment they met.

Mercedes’ sister had also moved to El Paso and got employed at Tony Lama, she developed the same dizzy spells and they both began to feel unwell on weekends. After a discussion they began to question whether maybe they were addicted to the chemicals they worked with and were experiencing some form of withdrawal yet they didn’t seek any medical attention.

When Ruben started school he was put into a class designed to help teach English. Before long he could say sentences in English and Julian encourage him to speak English with his friends and grandmother Guadalupe. Joseph started school not long after and was wearing the special shoes he had been given in Juarez and they needed to be adjusted often as he grew but he never complained. He always walked with his brother to school but had to break often as the shoes weighed quite a lot. His parents were worried about how the other kids would treat him but his brothers were always there to defend him.

Robert started school and he learned English as well. The first time Julian heard his sons speaking English to each other he was happy but he couldn’t help feeling a little down as he struggled to learn the language and couldn’t speak with them. He never was required to learn English because most of the men he worked with spoke Spanish anyway.

At school Joseph had started being taunted about his disadvantages, he took the insults to heart and became very shy and fearful. Ruben however, had inherited the fierce Ramirez temperament and would chase off the children who teased Joseph. Their father did not often lose his temper, he was a very easygoing and friendly man but when he did he would start beating any object near him and throwing things. Another trait of the Ramirez family was that they had very large feet and hands, a punch from one of the Ramirez men would cause a lot of damage.

Mercedes - much to her dismay - realised that all of her children had the explosively violent temper of the Ramirezes. Ruth herself would break and throw things if her anger got the better of her. ‘”I’d just black out when I got mad,” she’d say years later. “I couldn’t control the anger. There would just, like, be an explosion inside of me, and I’d go off.” Her older brothers gave her a wide berth when she “went of”.’ - The Life and Crimes of Richard Ramirez The NightStalker - Philip Carlo.

Mercedes’ fifth and final pregnancy was the most painful and difficult. She even had to go to a specialist to help with the discomfort who told her the chemicals she had been breathing in at her job was going to cause a miscarriage so she needed a range of injections to keep the baby. She finally quit her job during her fifth month of pregnancy. This final pregnancy surprised Julian as it had been four years since the birth of their daughter. Guadalupe recalled praying a lot for her daughter and the unborn baby during the pregnancy, she could see this child was sapping the life-force from her daughter.

At 2:07am on February 29th 1960, Ricardo Leyva Muñoz Ramírez was born. His father and all his siblings arrived at the hospital to see the new baby. Ruth was ecstatic to have a baby brother and from the first day he came home she was all over him.

He was her little precious, dark-eyed, dark-haired doll come to life. Ruben, Joseph and Robert didn’t pay one-tenth the attention to Richie that Ruth did. - The Life and Crimes of Richard Ramirez The NightStalker - Philip Carlo.

If you think I have any facts wrong be sure to message me and I’ll correct what I can. The next part I am covering will be his childhood.

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gilligangoodfellow · 3 years

Text

Bracelet

@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo Prompt:Doppler / Lookalike Relationships: Dudu & Dandelion & Priscilla. (Also non-con Whoreson Junior / Dudu) Rating: E Content Warnings: Rape / Non Con. Dead Dove. Non-Consensual Bondage. Non-Consensual Spanking. Beating. Whoreson Junior. Also Non-sexual Age play Doppler style (I repeat, Non Sexual) and Found Family

Summary: Whoreson Junior uses Dudu to live out his sick fantasies, punishing those who took everything from him. Abusing them over and over while they beg for him to stop, and a bracelet means they can’t escape.

Afterwards, Dudu lives a gentle fantasy of his own. One full of innocence and safety, and a bracelet means his abilities can never be used against him ever again.

Dudu is naked, strapped spread eagle and face down on the bed, if the word ‘bed’ is correct for the threadbare, scratchy ledge he is tied to.

Whoreson Junior grins, and Dudu tries not to think about what has been happening to his body.

What is going to happen.

“No.” Dudu begs. “Not again, please.”

“Dandelion.” Whoreson Junior spits. “And be quick about it, freak.”

“No.”

A knife is held against Dudu’s eye.

“Dandelion.”

He does not fight. He has to survive.

“So...um…Dudu.” Dandelion, clearly flustered, puts a hand against the back of his head. “Priscilla and I have something to tell you.” He looks at Priscilla, who smiles back at him, positively glowing as she turns from Dandelion to their friend.

It doesn’t take long for Dudu to put two and two together, crying out as he launches his halfling form straight into Priscilla’s arms.

She sits down on the chair behind her, laughing with him.

“Congratulations.” Dudu slides down to the floor. “Is it a boy or a girl?”

“I don’t even think the gods know that yet, Dudu.” Priscilla says.

The Doppler nods. “What are you hoping for?”

She looks at Dandelion. “A daughter.”

“Someone you can spoil with pretty dresses.” He chuckles, and Priscilla reaches up, holding the bard’s hand.

“But we honestly don’t mind.” Priscilla says, turning back to Dudu.

“We’ve actually known about the baby for a while.” Dandelion says. “But we wanted to wait a few weeks before telling people. Just...just in case...”

“But we saw the healer this morning, and everything is...Dudu?”

The halfling is crying.

“Hey?” Priscilla kneels in front of her friend, holding his shoulders.

“I can hear the heart beating.” He points at his ears, and Priscilla chuckles as she pulls him into another hug, looking up with a smile when Dandelion rests a hand on her shoulder.

He does not fight. He has to survive.

Dandelion is naked, strapped spread eagle and face down on the bed, if the word ‘bed’ is correct for the threadbare, scratchy ledge he is tied to.

His single eye is blinded by tears. He can feel the metal of the handcuffs cutting into his skin. He focuses on it. Focuses on the bruises decorating his wrists and hands, on how his little finger has started to tingle. He focuses on the material of the pillow his face is pressed into, how it smells of sweat and something coppery that he doesn’t want to think about.

But he does think about it. Maybe it’s blood. Or a potion residue...

Anything to not think about what is happening to his body. Who is inside his body.

He cries out as a sensation strikes him from just below his spine.

“Shut the fuck up.” Whoreson Junior shouts between pants. “Fucking think you’re better than me. Took the Rosemary. That brothel was mine. Fucking MINE. but you tricked father.” He thrusts harshly, and Dandelion moans. “Tricked him into thinking you deserved it. Lied. Admit it. Admit it!”

“I...I...argh...I lied.”

“Louder.”

“I LIED.” Dandelion cries out as fingers dig into his shoulders, scratching up to his wrists. One hand clasping over the beautiful green bracelet decorated with yellow flowers.

It’s enchanted. He can’t control the change.

Dandelion stands with a wine goblet in his hand, two hollow eyes completely focused on the embers of the fireplace.

“Pappa?”

He smiles as he looks down at the tiny girl.

“I drew Mamma.” The child holds up a drawing. A smiling stick figure with yellow lines coming out of her head.

“That is perfect, Essi.” He takes the drawing. “Your Mamma will love it. Let’s hang it above the fireplace, shall we. Then she’ll see it when she gets back.”

Essi watches the picture being put up with all the excitement and pride of a debuting artist, and Dandelion quickly lifts her into his arms when he is done, so that they can study her masterpiece together.

“Do you really think Mamma will love it?” She rests her head against his shoulder.

“More than anything.”

“More than apples?”

“More than apples.”

“More than puppies?”

“More than puppies.”

“More than cakes?”

Dandelion chuckles, and shifts the child so that she is facing him.

“Why are you crying, Pappa?”

“Am I?” Dandelion wipes at his eyes. “Oh...I was just thinking about an old friend.”

“Oh.” Essi looks down. “Do you want him to come back?”

“No.” Dandelion whispers. “Not until he feels ready.”

“Knock knock.” Says a bright voice from the entrance to the room. “Apologies, Dandelion. Polly let me in.”

“Elihal.” Dandelion lowers his daughter to the floor and welcomes the tailor with a kiss to his cheek. “What brings you here?”

“A flying visit.” Elihal holds up the package he is holding. “Your wife’s commission.”

“Your dress is really pretty.” Essi says.

“Well then, perhaps you should have a pretty dress of your very own.” Elihal gives the package to Essi, whose single eye widens as she tears straight into the paper, smiling at the beautiful green dress that falls open in front of her.

“What do you say, Essi?” Dandelion smiles.

“Thank you, Mr Elihal.”

“My pleasure.” Elihal bows his head. “Green to match your bracelet.” He points at the jewellry.

Essi screams, slamming her hand over the bracelet and dropping the dress to do so.

“Essi, shhh.” Dandelion says, kneeling in front of her. “Shh. No one is going to take it off you. I promise.”

“Dandelion...I…”

“It’s alright, Elihal.” He smiles, and picks up the dress. “No one is ever going to remove your bracelet. Not unless you ask. I promise.”

Essi sniffs.

“Now, why don’t you try your new dress on? So Mr Elihal can make sure it fits.”

Essi nods. “And then I can wear it to school tomorrow.”

“It’s a party dress, Sweetest.”

“Now now, Julian.” Elihal scolds, lightly. “Marabella’s institution could use a bit of class, don’t you think? And who better than a Pankratz”

Later, Dandelion and Priscilla tuck their daughter into bed.

The green dress hangs on the door. Ready for school tomorrow. And matching the green bracelet around Essi’s wrist, decorated with yellow flowers

“It’s beautiful.” Priscilla says.

“Yes. Elihal did a…” Dandelion turns, and realises that Priscilla isn’t looking at the dress.

She is holding a drawing in her trembling hands.

“Dandelion?” She looks at him, and he hugs her tightly as she cries.

He does not fight. He has to survive.

Dandelion feels Whoreson Junior slide off of his back. He feels the meagre contents of his stomach slide up his throat. He feels Whoreson Junior’s fingers scratch down the back of his legs, and one of the cuffs holding his ankles is removed.

Dandelion can’t help crying out against the strain as his abused body is twisted onto its back, forcing his arms to stretch and cross above his head, metal scratching as the wrists turn in the cuffs. His back arches slightly.

The ankle cuff is replaced and the fingers scratch back up, stopping to stroke Dandelion for a few moments while the bard squirms and begs “Stop. No more.” without any hope of being granted his wish. Then the burning trail moves up his arm to the green bracelet decorated with yellow flowers.

Whoreson Junior removes it. “Cirilla.”

“No.” Dandelion swallows. “No. Please. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m...”

“I said…” And Whoreson Junior holds the knife to Dandelion’s throat. “Cirilla.”

He does not fight. He has to survive.

Dandelion’s hands become delicate, nails painted a beautiful purple Ciri found that matches her mother’s eyes.

Ciri is naked, strapped face up on the bed, if the word ‘bed’ is correct for the threadbare, scratchy ledge she is tied to.

“I’m sorry.” She sobs as Whoreson Junior climbs back into the bed, giggling like the insane man he is. “Please.”

“Going to make you scream, you whore.” He puts the bracelet around Ciri’s wrist. A beautiful green bracelet decorated with yellow flowers.

It’s enchanted. She can’t control the change.

“Took everything from me. You destroyed everything, you little BITCH.”

She does not fight. She has to survive.

Ciri turns her head to the side, single eye closed, and grasps at faded memories of happier times. Tries not to think about what is happening to her body. About the fingers scratching down and down towards...

“Gonna make you scream!”

“One world had huge, tall buildings filled with magic lights.” Ciri smiles as she sits on the bed, holding Essi’s hand. “And they were every colour you can think of, and powered by lightning. Like from the sky.”

Essi smiles as Ciri pulls the blanket up over her, tucking her in.

“And there were carts that could move on their own, without horses. And some could fly like birds.”

“Did you ride one?”

“I did, and I got to control one as well. And there were boxes that made music. I’ll bring you one back, next time I visit.”

“Can I go with you?”

“When you’re...older.” A war of emotion crosses Ciri’s face, and she swallows before masking everything with a smile. “When you are all grown up, I will take you to all of the worlds.”

“I hope I grow up quickly.”

“Well, do you know what helps little girls grow up faster? Getting lots of sleep.” Ciri strokes her hair. “Goodnight.”

“Aunt Ciri...will you stay?”

“Of course.”

“Will you kill the monster, if it finds me?”

Ciri nods.

The green dress hangs on the door. Ready for school tomorrow.

Geralt is naked, strapped face up on the bed, if the word ‘bed’ is correct for the threadbare, scratchy ledge he is tied to.

He wears a beautiful green bracelet decorated with yellow flowers. Enchanted. To stop him from controlling the change.

Knuckles strike his chin, and Geralt grits his teeth so fast that he pulls at his throat.

The same knuckles punch into his stomach, winding him.

“Wasting my time, Junior.” Whoreson Junior says in a mocking voice. Another punch. “I need details.” Another punch. “I’ll give you fucking details, you flunky.”

Another punch to his head. Another to his stomach. His shins.

“I’m sorry. Please.” Geralt’s head hurts. His lungs burn. His single eye is fogged.

If Geralt was human, he would be dead by now.

He does not fight. He has to survive.

Another punch to the stomach, and then Whoreson Junior is on top of him.

The strange box is powered by odd orange gems that Ciri tells Essi not to touch. When they press a button, the devices inside move, and music comes out.

Essi has to keep the box a secret, because Aunt Ciri told her to. But Aunt Ciri said that she’s allowed to show it to her parents. And she is allowed to show Uncle Geralt.

“This is music from something called a guitar.” Essi says. “Aunt Ciri said it's like a ‘rocker’ lute.”

“It sounds...interesting.” Geralt nods.

“Certainly one word for it.” Priscilla chuckles as she takes the box from Essi. “You can listen to more tomorrow. Sleep now.”

“Will you stay, Uncle Geralt? In case the monster comes.”

Priscilla has her back to them now, lowering the box on the table as she looks straight ahead, focused on a spot on the wall.

“The monster is dead, Essi.” Geralt sits on the edge of the bed. “It attacked and...hurt...someone who is a very good friend to me and your parents. And it was hurting lots of other people as well. So I killed it.”

Essi sits up. “How?”

Geralt shakes his head. “I…”

“Don’t spare a detail.” Priscilla turns back round, face hard, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Tell her exactly what you did to that beast.”

Geralt looks back at Essi. “I ran it through with my silver sword.”

“Because silver is for monsters.” Priscilla spits.

“And then I used my fire magic until nothing was left but ash.” Geralt leans forward. “So that it will never hurt anyone ever again.”

“And the world is better for it.” Priscilla mutters.

Essi hugs a pillow to her chest. “And you saved your friend.”

Priscilla sniffs, rubbing at her eyes.

“Yes.” Geralt shakes his head. “But the monster had hurt him badly. So he had to go away for a while.”

“Can I have a cuddle?”

Priscilla holds a hand over her mouth to muffle her sobs, watching as Geralt leans forward to wrap his arms around the little girl, while she hugs him back.

Later, Geralt tucks the sleeping Essi back into bed, and a green dress hangs on the door. Ready for school tomorrow.

“I’m sorry.”

“Shhh. It wasn’t your fault.”

Whoreson Junior is naked, strapped spread eagle and face down on the bed, if the word ‘bed’ is correct for the threadbare, scratchy ledge he is tied to.

A Whoreson Junior with two eyes gently washes the exhausted and abused body of his lookalike.

“It wasn’t your fault. They did this to you. Took everything. Left you with nothing. Nothing. Bastards and bitches. Fucking cunts, the lot of them.

“They took everything.” Whoreson Junior throws the cloth to one side. “And you let them.” The belt strikes down on the broken flesh of his lookalike’s buttock, again and again. “Weak. Stupid.”

He does not fight. He doesn’t have the strength.

The green bracelet is decorated with yellow flowers. It stops him from controlling the change.

“Fucking useless.” Strike. “Bastard. Whoreson.” Strike. “Piece of shit.”

“I’m sorry. I’m…”

He does not fight. Even though he does not want to survive.

“Shut the FUCK up!” The belt crashes down, splitting the skin.

Doppler’s heal fast. The wounds will be gone tomorrow. But tomorrow is very far away. And tomorrow will make new wounds to replace them. Like yesterday. And the day before...

“Dandelion.”

“Cirilla.”

“Stop. Please.”

“Geralt.”

“No more.”

“Dandelion.”

“Cirilla.”

“Stop.”

“I’m sorry.”

Dudu is naked, strapped face down on the bed, if the word ‘bed’ is correct for the threadbare, scratchy ledge he is tied to.

Dudu wants to die.

Dudu wants to hide.

Dudu is sorry.

The ashes of Whoreson Junior spread across the floor. Dandelion removes the restraints.

“No.” Dudu stares at the wall. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Dudu?” Dandelion takes his hand. A blanket covers his broken body.

“No more. Please.”

Dudu wants to hide. To become lost in a world that is safe. Where he can forget everything. Be innocent. Carefree. A child who is too young to yet know how dark the Continent can be.

One last change.

And then use the bracelet to stay there forever. So his abilities can never be used against him ever again.

“Dudu, will that help you to feel safe.” Priscilla holds the blanket wrapped halfling in her lap. Dandelion’s hand rests on the halfling’s cheek.

And Dudu nods, looking down as he sobs.

Dandelion pats his cheek. “Priscilla?”

She nods, before pressing her face against the weeping halfling’s crown.

“Dudu, if that’s what you need to do, then do it.” Dandelion takes hold of his hand. “And you will want for nothing, I promise. We will look after you.”

“Take care of you.” Priscilla sobs. “Love you.”

Dudu looks at her. “The bracelet…”

“Will go back on. As soon as you’ve changed.” Priscilla nods.

“And no one will take it off except you.” Dandelion says. “You’re in control of this. Of everything.”

“And this lasts as long as you need it to.” Priscilla says. “We will give the child a good life, I promise. Be it days. Months. Years.”

“The child, Dudu?” Dandelion asks. “Do you want to use your name, or a different one?”

“I don’t want to be me anymore.” Dudu sobs. “I don’t want to be me anymore.”

“Okay. Okay. Shh. Be someone else.” Priscilla hugs him closer. “Be someone else. We’ll look after them.”

Dudu closes his eye.

“Is it a boy or a girl?”

“I don’t even think the gods know that yet, Dudu.” Priscilla says.

The Doppler nods. “What are you hoping for?”

She looks at Dandelion. “A daughter.”

The eye opens again.

“A little girl.” Priscilla smiles. “Essi?”

“Essi.” Dandelion nods.

Priscilla runs a gentle hand through her daughter’s long blond hair. “Hello, Essi.”

“You’re safe now, Sweetest.” Dandelion puts the bracelet around his daughter’s wrist. Green. Decorated with yellow flowers.

“Your Momma and Pappa have you.” Priscilla says.

It is a warm day, and the family is sitting on a blanket in one of the fields outside Novigrad. Everything is ready for harvest, and the smell of fresh crop and autumn surrounds them as they enjoy a lunch of dumplings from Hattori and fish from the market.

Elihal made a beautiful outfit for Essi, perfect for running in fields.

Now covered in mud and leaves, Essi sits in her mother’s lap and shows off her reading.

“Miss Marabella says I’m top of the class.”

“Well done.” Priscilla kisses her temple. “My clever little girl. You get that from your father.”

“With a healthy dose of your mother’s intelligence to match it.” Dandelion says.

“Can I teach the baby to read when they are born?”

“Of course.” Dandelion smiles. “Although they will be too little at first, Essi. You’ll need to read to them to begin with.”

“I can do that.” Essi curls up against her mother, her ear over her stomach. “I’m going to be the best big sister. Uncle Lambert said so.”

“Well, if Uncle Lambert said so, it must be true.” Priscilla chuckles.

“I can hear the heart beating.” She sits up. “What’s its name, Momma?”

“Thomas if it is a boy, after my father.” Priscilla smiles. “And if it is a girl…Anarietta. After a friend of Pappa’s from Toussaint.”

Dandelion’s eyes widen over the top of his wine goblet.

He coughs. “You want to name our daughter after my former…”

“Of course.” Priscilla grins. “The strategy should keep us in names for a while.”

“How many children are we having?”

Priscilla winks, and then smiles at Essi, now yawning as she curls up against her mother.

Priscilla and Dandelion rest their foreheads together, embracing around their daughter and unborn child.

Dandelion and Priscilla stir as the sound of the baby’s cries reach them.

“Dandelion, Anarietta is awake.” Priscilla is still half asleep.

“And it’s my turn.” Dandelion says around a yawn.

“There’s milk in her night stand.” Priscilla turns onto her side, eyes still closed. “If she won’t take it, bring her back here.”

“I’m sure we’ll be…”

And the crying suddenly stops.

“Julian?” Priscilla, now wide awake, sits up and out of the bed. Her husband reaches for the poker that they use in the fireplace before opening the door.

“Stay behind me.” Dandelion’s heart thunders in his chest, but he slowly crosses the hallway to Anarietta’s room, noticing as they pass that Essi’s door is open, and the bed empty.

“Essi?” Priscilla picks up the empty child’s nightgown from the floor.

And they can hear singing, from Anarietta’s room.

The halfling is dressed in a simple, but well padded outfit, the perfect cushion for the tiny baby in his curled arm. He sings to her as he holds the bottle. No lyrics, just gentle vocal sounds.

“Dudu?” Priscilla is as good as whispering the name.

Dudu looks up quickly, mouth a thin line.

“I...I...I didn’t want to be you and confuse her. And Essi is too young to hold her alone and...”

“It’s alright, Dudu.” Dandelion smiles as he crouches down in front of the halfling. “Look. She likes you.”

Anarietta suckles at the bottle, cornflower blue eyes focused on the halfling holding her and clearly as content as any being can be.

The bottle empties, and Dandelion gently encourages the baby to rest against Dudu’s shoulder, directing the halfling to rub her back with firm strokes.

Anarietta burps, and Priscilla giggles.

“Oh, very ladylike.” She says to the baby.

Dudu carefully hands Anarietta to her mother, and the baby is laid back in her cot, already asleep.

“She should be Essi. That was supposed to be her name, wasn’t it?”

“Nonsense.” Dandelion says, taking Dudu’s hand. “She has the name her parents gave her. And so does Essi.”

Dudu’s fingers tighten around Dandelion’s, the grip desperate. Like a falling man grabbing at a rope.

“I’m sorry.”

“Dudu, you have nothing to apologise for.” Priscilla crouches beside him, her hand on his knee. “We agreed, remember. We want to do this with you.”

“To be here for you.” Dandelion rests a hand on Dudu’s cheek. “To help you feel safe. Is it helping?”

Dudu’s single eye widens, and he nods.

“Then it causes no harm.” Priscilla takes his other hand. “We love looking after Essi. And if it helps, think of it like this. In a way, Dudu, you’re helping us too. Helping us practice how to be good parents for Anarietta.”

“I...I am?” Dudu looks at the floor, single eye filled with enough sorrow for two.

“I look at Anarietta.” Dandelion indicates the sleeping baby with a nod. “And I know, without a doubt, that I would die for my little girls.” Dandelion says. “That nothing is more important to me now, than my family?”

Priscilla nods.

“And that includes you, our dear friend.”

Dudu collapses into his arms, sobs shaking his body as he empties his sorrows against the bard’s shoulders, Priscilla quietly rubbing his back.

“Our dear, dear friend.” Dandelion repeats.

“I know he’s dead but...I still...it’s like he’ll find me. Any second. It’s like he’s in my head...”

“I know.” Priscilla knows. Knows the nights of every sound being an attacker. Of every street corner being a dark hiding place for an attacker. Of every laugh and jeer being an attacker. “But you have your family with you.”

Dudu nods, and Dandelion rocks him slightly, whispering gentle words into the halfling’s ear.

“Do you want to talk? About what happened?”

Dudu shakes his head.

“That’s okay.” Dandelion kisses the side of his head.

“Please…” Dudu pushes back. “I’m not ready to stop yet. Pl...”

“You don’t have to.” Priscilla says. “It’s okay. We will be here. All of us.”

“And we’ll be here when you are ready.”

Dudu looks down at his wrist, and slowly removes the bracelet.

Dandelion and Priscilla work together to dress their daughter in a fresh nightgown. Then Priscilla combs and plats Essi’s long, blond hair before tucking her into her bed.

A beautiful green dress hangs on the door, ready for school tomorrow. And next to it is another. Cornflower blue to match a little girl’s single eye.

Essi is careful when she wears them. She wants them to stay beautiful, so that Momma can give them to Anarietta one day.

She runs up to Momma, and hands her a drawing of their family.

“Oh it’s beautiful.” Priscilla says. “Thank you. Essi...”

The child looks up.

“You’re not wearing your bracelet today...”

#wrsb #writing #See Content Warnings #Please #Rated: E

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neroushalvaus · 3 years

Text

Top 10 favourite characters from any fandom

I was tagged by @limalepakko , thank you! Since I have recently listed male characters here (or you know, in August, but we all know time hasn't been a thing for many moons), I took the liberty to list characters in general this time. I also went with which characters feel right at the moment, so does not show all my favourites. I also try to keep these short. (edit: okay so these are not remotely short, I will post a list first and have the explanations be under the cut, read if you want to hear my ramblings c': )

1. Fantine, Les Misérables 2. Javert / Jean Valjean, Les Misérables (yes i am cheating) 3. Carrie "Big Boo" Black, Orange Is the New Black 4. Jane Marple, Agatha Christie's Marple 5. Aunt Lydia, The Handmaid's Tale 6. Bridget Jones, Bridget Jones books & movies 7. Rock Lee, Naruto 8. Sarah O'Brien, Downton Abbey 9. Marilla Cuthbert, Anne of Green Gables / Anne with an E 10. Sister Monica Joan, Call the Midwife

1. Fantine, Les Misérables

I love Fantine with all my heart. I remember reading Les Mis for the first time and her story sending chills down my spine. Her character development makes me so sad, from a girl who falls hard and fast and won't deny anything from her lover, to a woman who is so beaten down by society that she can't do anything but laugh at her fate. But I love how she doesn't lose her pride or her fighting spirit and how she still has the guts to spit in Valjean's face when she sees him after being arrested. And I love how all she does is for her daughter and how despite selling "the gold on her head and the pearls in her mouth" she is content, because all that matters to her is that Cosette will live.

2. Javert & Jean Valjean, Les Misérables

I was really trying to limit this list to one character per fandom, but alas, I am but a weak little person. Thus, I am cheating already. The thing is that when it comes to Les Mis characters, Fantine, Javert and Valjean are the eternal top 3 for me, but I'm never quite able to say who I love the most. Last time I picked Javert for the male character meme because I love the symbolism and critique of society his character embodies, but let it be known that Jean Valjean is the best character in all of literature and I will fight you on this. The original soft on crime icon (aside from Jesus Christ but they're the same and you know it). Valjean's character journey is such a complicated one from an ordinary man (no worse than any man) to a person, who had been shaped by society and criminal justice system to be a very dangerous man, to someone you could compare to a saint if you wanted to... To an ordinary man, who would do anything for his daughter. He has so many character-defining moments, the biggest ones being in my opinion the trial of Champmathieu and letting Javert go instead of killing him. I just love Jean Valjean so much and could speak about him for hours.

3. Carrie "Big Boo" Black, Orange Is the New Black

Hopping away from the Les Mis hole and into a OITNB hole. I was debating on whether I'd put Boo or Pennsatucky on this list since I love them both so much, but I've been feeling so much love for my angry butch king that it had to be her. First of all, I'm just so happy to see butch lesbian representation where the butch identity is not just a joke. I know OITNB sometimes uses Boo questionably, but in general she is a nuanced character and one of the most interesting ones in the series in my opinion. I'm so sad they forgot all about her on the last seasons. I love everything about her, how she has trouble with feelings besides anger and often deflects serious stuff through humor, how fiercely protective she is of those she loves (boosatucky otp forever fucking fight me), how proud she is of her butch identity ("i refuse to be invisible")... Also, not to express attraction, but... Mama I'm in love with a criminal. And not to be a slut for how characters view religion/spirituality/God, but the relieved smile she has in one of her flashbacks when she says "there's no God... there's nothing", like you can't just do stuff like that and expect me not to love the character to bits.

4. Jane Marple, Agatha Christie's Marple

Last time I listed Poirot and was a bit frustrated I couldn't list Marple, but now it's time to right that wrong! I love this little old lady so much. I love Agatha Christie so much for just going "you know who is the person who knows everything that's going on in a community, and thus would make the perfect detective for a detective story? the nosy old woman". As she is introduced in The Murder at the Vicarage: "Miss Marple is a white-haired old lady with a gentle, appealing manner — Miss Weatherby is a mixture of vinegar and gush. Of the two Miss Marple is much more dangerous." She is so likable and witty, you can't help but love her. My favourite portrayal of her is by Geraldine McEwan, she looks so gentle but has such a sharp gaze. I would spill all my secrets to her any day. I also am compelled to tell you that when I was a child we had a costume party at my school and I dressed up as Marple and learned some old lady things in English (it was before third grade so I didn't know much English back then) just for the occasion (such as "thank you, my dear", "what a lovely necklace you are wearing" or "there has been a murder"). Teacher might have thought me rather morbid but I remember that day being quite good.

5. Aunt Lydia, The Handmaid's Tale

The Handmaid's Tale is such a great series and a book and Aunt Lydia is such a great character. The way she's capable of being absolutely cruel and vicious, but how she is also protective and caring in her own way. One of my favourite scenes in this series is when Serena Joy (my other favourite, can you tell) tells Lydia to "remove the damaged ones" from a line of handmaids and Lydia tries to argue with her. Sure, she is responsible for some of the punishments these women are now "damaged" by, but she truly believes those punishments were for a greater good and now the handmaids deserve their place with the others as much as anyone else. It is chilling and the character is such a dark shade of morally gray, but I can't get enough of it. The actress who plays her, Ann Dowd, has so interesting thoughts about her, like here. I just love this character so much I could scream.

6. Bridget Jones, Bridget Jones books & movies

I'm mostly talking about the movies here because Renée Zellweger's performance is iconic. Plus the movies are what made me love this character first. But I'll give it to the books, they're one of the few books I've laughed out loud while reading. Anyway, how do you even begin explaining the love I have for Bridget Jones... I love how she is a character so many people can relate but who would be a comic relief side character in some other story. Yes, yes, it is really bad that she is constantly described as fat when she really is not, but when I was growing up she gave me hope that people who are viewed as fat and/or unattractive by other people can be admired and appreciated, and they don't have to be super talented at everything and highly intelligent and some kind of a super smooth social butterfly to "make up" for what they "lack". And also that they can have standards (i once dodged a bullet by rejecting someone by pretty much subconsciously quoting Bridget Jones so..). I also love how the comedic tone of everything does not dismiss Bridget's feelings. For example in some other movie we maybe would concentrate on how "stupid" Bridget was to trust that Daniel was in love with her, but in Bridget Jones we concentrate on how Bridget was hurt by Daniel cheating on her, how he is the one who did wrong. Idk I just love Bridget Jones so very much can you tell.

7. Rock Lee, Naruto

Aka the boy who would have kicked Madara in the balls if Kishimoto had any sense of drama and good storytelling. I think I robbed Lee by not putting him on the fav male characters list. You know that post that goes like "gays be like 'these are my comfort characters', 1 literal ray of sunshine, 2 war criminal" etc? This child is the sunshine. I've been reading and watching Naruto again ( @hapanmaitogai is my sideblog for that nonsense) and I'm so ready to adopt Lee and/or Gai. Rock Lee is just such an earnest character, he has a goal he will give anything to achieve and he's the one true underdog in this manga. I love how he's so kind and polite (it's not so clear in English but in the Finnish translation he speaks as formally as he does in Japanese, he uses singular polite "you", calls Sakura "Sakura-neiti" = "Miss Sakura" etc... i love one polite boy). Also, he has the best fights in the series. Like Lee vs Gaara is a Classic, but we simply can't forget that time Lee absolutely crushed Sasuke in just a few minutes, or that time he politely asked Kimimaro not to kill him while he drinks his medicine. The best boy. I love that boy so much.

8. Sarah O'Brien, Downton Abbey

Last time it was Thomas' turn, so now I must talk about the snakiest snake, the queen of weaponized handmaidenry, Miss O'Brien. She is such a great character especially in the first two seasons (I obviously love her on season three as well but Julian Fellowes really tried to make it hard by not explaining her actions at all, didn't he. Well, luckily I am ready to stuff the gaps with my headcanons). She has some of the best comebacks in the series and brings some needed realism in some conversations. I also love how she uses her position as a lady's maid for her advantage and how she is proud of her profession despite being highly aware of the power structures in the Abbey. And then there is the soap. That is such a good character moment, because for a character who always plans ahead, who is ruthless and cunning and intelligent... I don't think O'Brien thought about the soap thing at all before she left the room ("Sarah O'Brien, this is not who you are" hit me like a train). Just once she did something with nothing but anger motivating her and that became one of the defining moments of her character. And one of the defining things of the future relationship between her and Cora. That's why I find the Sarah/Cora ship so interesting, because there will always be the undercurrent of bitter regret. Also Sarah O'Brien and Thomas Barrow are the greatest brotp and Fellowes was a coward for driving the smoking scheming gay best friends apart, and

9. Marilla Cuthbert, Anne of Green Gables / Anne with an E

I'm not saying L.M. Montgomery is entirely responsible for me having a fondness for strict, older women who first act unkind but have a heart of gold, but she most certainly did not help. Between characters like Marilla Cuthbert and Elizabeth Murray, how can you not fall in love with the type? It's been a while since I read the Anne series, but I really love how Marilla's character has been adapted into the Anne with an E tv series. Geraldine James looks like she was born to play her, she has me in tears so often. She has the ability to portray someone like Marilla, who is a very hard and stern person but feels deeply for her loved ones. I was watching the episode that dealt with Matthew's heart attack and Marilla berating her brother while hugging herself like she was trying so hard to hold herself together absolutely destroyed my heart.

10. Sister Monica Joan, Call the Midwife

It was a tough choice between her and Sister Evangelina. I just love these nuns very much. Sister Monica Joan is such a lovable and wise character. She is so knowledgeable of many subjects, from the Bible to astrology, and I feel like her unspecified memory problems and confusion are handled very tastefully. I also love how she's such an important part of her community despite not working as a midwife anymore. She is such a kind woman and gets visibly upset when others are treated poorly. And how could I not mention her saying "I do not believe in weeds. A weed is simply a flower that someone decides is in the wrong place", like... I love her so so much.

I won't tag anyone, but if you read this and you want to do this, consider yourself tagged and you're no allowed to mark me as the one who tagged you!

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livsoulsecrets · 4 years

Text

Good to be home

This is my first time writing Kierarktina, hope you enjoy it! Missing them more than never. The story is located at the LA Institue.

Kieran feels like he can finally breath when he sees Cristina and Mark waiting for him in the Sanctuary’s doors. All the stress he had been feeling ever since he left the kingdom goes away when they run to him. They quickly become a mess of hugs and kisses, so many Kieran loses count.

— You’re here. You’re really here. — Mark whispers, his forehead touching Kieran’s.

— Just like I told you. — Kieran answers, Cristina’s hand resting in his heart.

The truth is that nothing would stop him from coming there, even if only for a few stolen hours while Winter took care of everything in the Unseelie Court. Helen and Aline were out for some well-deserved time off, leaving Mark and Cristina responsible for taking care of Dru and Tavvy for the weekend, with Julian, Emma and Ty away. It was a rare opportunity for them to be together without nothing else worrying them, just like in their cottage.

— Come on, let’s get inside, Dru and Tavvy are waiting for you. — Cristina says, offering her hand to guide him inside. He takes it.

They don’t let go of each other while entering the Institute, Cristina gladly leading the way to the kitchen, where she said the kids would be.

— Hey, guess who is finally here! — She announces once they enter the room, Dru and Tavvy sat down at the table, sharing a chocolate bar. Tavvy drops the candy immediately. Kieran laughs when Tavvy runs to entangle himself around his legs.

— Hello, Tavvy. — He kisses his head and the boy laughs, running back to Dru shortly after.

— Kier is back! — Tavvy says. Mark smiles down at his little brother and Cristina buries her face in Kieran’s shoulder, barely handling how much she had missed Kieran and his smile.

— Yeah, he finally is. — Mark adds.

— Hey, Kier. Seems like you have a fan. — Dru jokes. — Nice to see you, those two were going crazy waiting for you. They made us clean everywhere.

— Dru! Don’t be a snitch! — Mark called out, his checks growing red. Cristina barely suppressed a laugh.

— Well, we just wanted to make you feel welcome. — She defended herself.

— I really appreciate that. — Kieran said, his heart content. He had one arm resting against Cristina’s shoulder. He reached out for Mark’s hand and he held on tight.

— Okay, I already got it, we’re being the fourth wheel here! We will go watch some TV, since Julian is not here to regulate it.

— I’m here to do that. — Mark said, trying to be though, but his eyes didn’t leave Kieran’s for one second.

— None of us believes that, Mark. — Dru answered, taking Tavvy by the hand and disappearing through the door.

— Well, she is right about that. — Cristina says, grinning.

— Nobody believes me in here, thank the Angel you’re back to defend my honor, Kier. — He is still smiling, but Kieran just looks at him in confusion.

— What honor? I don’t think you have had that ever since you were sixteen...

Cristina laughs so much she needs to reach for the wall in order not to fall down. Mark just rolls his eyes, which confuses Kieran even further.

— Oh, Kier, I missed you so much. — Cristina finally says and Kieran forgets all about mortal’s strange wording to focus on her.

— I missed you too. I know I can only be here for some hours, but I’m glad I could come.

— Me too. — Mark agrees, his arm circling Kieran’s waist. Cristina recomposes herself at the same time Kieran reaches for her, pulling Cristina to them.

— It is good you’re home. — Cristina says, her voice cracking. Kieran never thought he would actually hear those words coming out of her mouth, but he is not surprised by how genuine they are. He finally is home, the two people he loves the most in the world in his arms, his heart more whole than it has ever been.

Home is the only word that could possibly fit what he is feeling right now.

Kieran bends down and kiss her lips, but the sound of her phone ringing startles them a second after.

— By the angel. — She says over her breath, taking a step back. She looks at the phone and her eyebrows raise. — Oh, it’s my mom. I’ll be just back. — She says, laying a quick kiss in Kieran’s cheek before picking up the call.

— Hola, mamá. Si, todo bien. Yo también te extraño. — Cristina says, walking out to talk with her mom. Mark holds on to Kieran a bit longer and smiles down at him.

— Can’t believe I really have you right here. — Mark whispers. — Life is good.

— It can be. — Kieran answers and Mark kisses him, calmly, like they have all the time in the world.

— Come on, let’s find something to do until she gets back. — Mark offers when they break apart.

Then, Kieran and Mark occupy themselves with setting the table and picking up some ingredients to what they decided would be a chocolate cake. Cristina would probably regret leaving them alone, but it was too late for that now. She comes back after a few minutes, a worried look on her face. Kieran and Mark stare at her in confusion.

— Is everything okay with your mom, Tina? — Mark asks.

— Yes- I mean, I think so. Well, the thing is... She’s coming here. — Cristina finally manages to say. Kieran’s hair changes into a deep red color as soon as the words come out of her mouth.

— Oh. — Mark says.

— Oh. — Kieran repeats, not knowing what else to do. Mark had met Carmen once since they started dating, it was brief, but it was still more experience than Kieran had in that field. If he didn’t know what to do, then Kieran was damned.

— Boys, “oh” is not really helping right now. — Cristina falls down at a chair and puts her head in her hands.

— Sorry, it is just unexpected. — Kieran justifies.

— She said she came to New York to surprise me and Jace told her I was here. So, Magnus offered to make a portal for her and, basically, she is on her way.

— On her way? — Mark stuttered, staring at the kitchen door as if he is expecting Carmen to pop up at any given moment.

— I guess it is a good thing you guys cleaned everything up. — Kieran offers, hoping it helps.

By the sound Cristina makes, it doesn’t.

— Hey, it is going to be okay. — Kieran sits down by her side, trying to calm her down.

— Yes, it is. Look, why don’t we go wait for her outside? To welcome her. — Mark suggests. That makes Cristina looks up.

— I’ll go. You can wait here. It is better this way. — With that, she leaves the kitchen.

Kieran wishes he could say something that would free Mark from his worries, but he doesn’t think he can do it. So, they just wait in silence until Cristina returns to the kitchen, her mom following after her.

Carmen was a short woman with black hair and a firm posture that looked so much like Cristina that made Kieran a bit uncomfortable looking at her for too long. She seemed tense and so serious that being a king didn’t do much to dissipate Kieran’s nervousness when Cristina shyly introduced him to her.

— Nice to meet you properly, King Kieran. — She says, her face so neutral Kieran wonders if she is putting an effort into looking calm.

— Just Kieran is fine. It is really nice to meet you too. — He shakes the hand she offers and hopes for the best. Mark is nervously fidgeting beside him and Kieran wishes to reach for his hand to calm him down, but he doesn’t feel really comfortable doing that in front of Cristina’s mom.

— Mark, good to see you too. — The boy nods with a small smile that Kieran knows he is faking. He was about to answer when Tavvy stormed into the kitchen with Dru right behind him.

— Octavian Blackthorn, get your ass back here! It is my turn to watch TV! Give the damn remote back! — She screams after him, furious. Cristina puts a hand on the kitchen counter, a look of distress on her face. Tavvy doesn’t seem to care about Dru’s request and just hides behind Mark, hoping his brother takes his side. Only then, Dru notices Carmen is standing right there and a shade of red covers her cheeks.

— Hello, Mrs. Rosales. Sorry for bursting in. — Dru apologizes, embarassed.

— Hello, Dru. — Carmen says, a small smile on her lips. Kieran assumes that is a good sign.

— I should solve this. Excuse me. — Mark half drags Tavvy away, Dru close behind him. Kieran watches him, envious that his boyfriend got to flee the scene while he stayed behind. Still, it is not like he could leave Cristina alone, it was clear by the panic on her face that she needed him around. He smiles lightly at her and a bit of the color seems to come back to her face.

— Why don’t you sit down, mama? I was going to make some coffe for us, do you want some? — Cristina offered and Kieran never thought he would be so relieved to hear about coffe in all his life as he did when Carmen nodded, accepting her daughter’s offer.

Kieran and Carmen sat down at the Institute’s table, that seemed especially huge today because of the absence of the Blackthorns, the two of them in complete silence. Kieran had once watched a movie with Dru where the father-in-law questioned his daughter’s boyfriend about his intentions. It seemed unlikely that Carmen would do the same, but Kieran was still a bit terrified of her. Turns out being king doesn’t solve the nerve-wracking experience of facing your super awesome girlfriend’s mother when you are totally sure you do not deserve her daughter.

Still, Cristina had chosen him. She loved him just as much as he loved her and they loved Mark. Against all odds, Kieran was happier than he had ever been. Surprising himself, hiding beneath all his fear was his unshakable faith that the three of them belonged together. Not even Carmen Rosales herself could tear that apart, as scary as she could be.

— So... How has the Unseelie Court been treating you? — Carmen asked while Cristina put down the coffe mug in front of her and went to sit by Kieran’s side, the three other mugs barely fitting her hands.

The answer was obvious: once he was the king, he had been treated extraordinarily well. But Cristina had explained to him that sometimes mortal people asked obvious questions just to sparkle conversations. That and the forced smile on Cristina’s face while she stared at him pushed Kieran to answer the question with all the grace he could gather.

— It has been incredibly difficult to be their king, but I believe I’m the leader my people need. I hope I can be half as good to them as they are to me. — Kieran assumed he had done well because Cristina’s smile became more honest and she pressed her hand against his, resting both of them in his tight.

— I’m sure they are in good hands. — It is all she says, but it sounds honest, so Kieran takes it as a win.

— It is what I hope.

— And you, Cristina? Everything okay in New York? — Cristina straightened herself in the chair and went on a tangent about her work, excitedly telling details about the alliance she had been dedicating so much time to. Kieran had heard all about it already, but he found himself paying attention to every word Cristina said, his heart warm by how happy she was while talking about her job. He couldn’t be prouder of her.

Mark makes it back to the kitchen, still looking stressed. He sits down next to Carmen, Kieran supposes because it would be weird to have the three of them facing her as if they were being questioned by Cristina’s mom. He picks up the coffe mug, taking a sip, seeming glad he could focus on something else other than the unexpected family meeting they had being pulled into.

— Mark! I was just telling my mom about New York. — Despite his uneasiness, Mark grins at Cristina, the soft, honest expression that Kieran fell in love with taking over his face.

— Cristina is doing some wonderful work there. Alec himself said he is impressed with her. — Mark says, putting a smile on Carmen’s face.

— I never doubted you would achieve great things, Cristina. Estoy muy orgullosa de ti. — She says the last words looking right at her daughter. Mark's eyes darted to Kieran, the two of them knowing how important that was to Cristina.

Kieran remembered that Cristina would sometimes talk about how her mom had always pushed her to be the best version of herself, which helped building the amazing woman she was, but what also made Cristina constantly terrified of letting her down. Over time, she had learned to balance those feelings, being more dedicated to being who she wanted to be rather than who her mother expected her to be.

What Cristina never said, but Kieran still noticed, was that part of her still cared about making her mom proud. By the look of surprise in Cristina’s face, she had assumed her chances of doing so had ended when she decided to be with Mark and Kieran and moved to New York instead of going back to Mexico.

— Thank you, mom. It really means a lot to me. — Cristina answered, her brightest smile on her lips.

Kieran decided he didn’t care if Carmen Rosales hated him or not, as long as she kept Cristina happy like that, he would endure anything that came his way.

Eventually, they fell into an pleasant conversation, Carmen talking about how things were in Mexico, with Mark and Cristina occasionally mentioning New York and the new Clave. Kieran also talked about the Unseelie court and the challenges he was facing. Carmen was paying a lot of attention, her eyes following the three of them with a softer expression. She seemed more relaxed, her false calm posture long gone. Kieran was starting to think maybe he panicked for no reason at all.

Kieran should have known then that things were too good to be true. Cristina’s phone rang, making all conversation stop.

— I’m so sorry, I really need to take this. It is Lily, there must be some trouble with the Hotel. — She picks up the phone. — Hey, what- Wait, I can’t hear you. Can't you call Clary for that? Okay, fine, I'll go take a look at the Codex and get back to you. — She puts the phone down for a moment and says: — Lily needs my help with something, I’ll be back in a moment.

Her tone is clearly apologetic, but Kieran just nodded, signaling she should go. Mark looks as if he wants to follow after her with an excuse just to get rid of being alone with Carmen, but Kieran is facing him, which does make him sit very still, incapable of leaving him behind. They are doing this together.

They fall into an uncomfortable silence, the only thing keeping Kieran steady is Mark’s eyes on him. His hair stays blue through it all, Mark’s presence grounding him.

— I can tell the two of you are terrified. — Carmen finally says. Kieran doesn’t know what to answer, especially because it’s true.

— I’m not saying this is what I pictured for my daughter. It definitely isn’t. When Cristina first told me, I said all that mattered is that she was happy and I meant it. Still, part of me didn’t think it would last, but, here you are, months after that. As surprised as I am, I need to admit that I was wrong. I guess you are not going anywhere. — She doesn’t say it like that is a terrible thing, so Kieran assumes it is safe to speak.

— We definitely aren’t. I love your daughter and, for some miracle, she loves me back. I will never do anything to ruin that. — Kieran assures Carmen, that nods, not seeming surprised by how serious he sounds.

— I understand why you were confused at first, we’re still figuring everything out ourselves... But, just like Kieran, I love Cristina. I promise you we’ll keep her safe no matter what. — Mark promises.

— My daughter doesn’t really need anybody to keep her safe. — Carmen answers, a playful smile on her lips. She never looked so much like Cristina as now. — But I appreciate the sentiment. It means a lot to me.

— It is only the truth. — Kieran adds, feeling like tons of weight got off his shoulders.

— I hope we can see each other more times, it would be great to get to know the two of you better. — Carmen offers. Kieran and Mark share a look and the answer is clear.

— We would love that. — Mark says at the same time Cristina comes back. She walks towards Kieran, putting a lock of hair behind her ear.

— Did I miss much? — Cristina asks, sitting down, her hand finding the way to Kieran’s arm easily.

— I was just saying we should do this more often. I need to know better who my daughter is going to marry. — Carmen teases. Cristina blushes, her hand tightening around Kieran’s.

— Mamá! — She grunts, embarrassed. — You’re unbelievable! — She is getting even more red, but her mom refrains for saying anything else when Dru and Tavvy come barging in once again.

— We’re hungry! — Tavvy announces, making Carmen laugh.

— Tavvy! We already messed up once, say hi to Cristina’s mom this time first. — Dru tells him, holding him close. — It is really good to see you!

— It is great to see you too, Dru. — Carmen gets up and walks to them. — I love cooking, you know? Come on, I’ll teach you how to make buñuelos. — She leads them to the kitchen cabinet, Tavvy clapping his hands in excitement.

— Mark, Kieran, get ready to eat the best afternoon snack you ever had. — Cristina excitedly tells the boys.

— Can’t wait! — Mark says, getting up. He sits by Cristina’s side, a lot more relaxed than he had been just minutes ago.

— This went so much better than I thought it would go. — Cristina blurts out, shocked.

— It totally did. Your mother is pretty nice. Scary, for sure, but nice. — Kieran ponders, watching as Carmen picks up the ingredients around the kitchen with Dru and Tavvy carefully paying attention.

— And she is not wrong, you know about us... Marrying someday. — Mark whispers. — We’ll make it. I don’t know how or when, but I know we will. — Kieran knows it'll be hard and the idea still sounds insane, but Mark is so sure that he can't help but believe it as well.

— Someday. — Cristina repeats and it sounds like a promise, so Kieran says it too.

— Someday.

Then, Cristina lays her head in his shoulder and pulls Mark’s hand to rest on her lap entangled to Kieran’s. Their warmth grounds Kieran, just like it always does.

It is really good to be home.

#kierarktina #kieraktina fic #the shadowhunter chronicles #my fics #the dark artifices #tda #tda fic #cristina rosales #kieran hunter #mark blackthorn #post qoaad #kieran x mark x cristina

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vesuviannights · 4 years

Text

Recent discussions in a Discord server have brought to my attention that we can now confirm exactly where and how much body hair Julian has. It is my civic duty to provide content about this that matches his canon-confirmed pain kink and also calls out my friends on their very specific kinks.

Julian x Reader 🍋🍋

AFAB reader, no pronouns.

Julian is always looking to experiment with different kinks, and he has a particular theory about one involving body hair and wax.

Featuring: pain play, wax play, praise, blindfolding, Julian just being a needy little pain slut but mostly it’s just the two of you having fun and experimenting

Julian is blindfolded and splayed out on the bed before you, thighs parted for a glorious view of his weeping and throbbing cock. Pre-cum is leaking out and dribbling down the side of it, forming a puddle on the sheets that shifts each time he does. An opaque cloth has been tied down over his eyes but his hands remain free and white-knuckled as he grips the frame above his head.

All in all, he looks like every bit the delicious treat you deserve, and every part the needy little slut he sometimes asks to be called.

It’s the work up to the event that gets him, sometimes even more than the actual event itself, though you’re sure this particular kink theory is one he’s right about. As he squirms and fidgets and works himself into a needy little mess at the thought of what is to come, you quickly come to realise that there’s really no way he could be wrong.

Seated back on your feet, you hold the perfect position to watch the show. No sound, no touch, just watching. With each passing minute he has become a little needier, seeking you out with little turns of his head and shuddering exhales.

“I-I-please, please my l-love—” Julian exhales, trying to control the whine in his voice, but it’s cracking all too easily. “I—touch me? Oh gods, please, I need you to touch me, to speak, to—”

“Ssshhhh…”

You reach forward and place a hand on each of his thighs, feeling the tremble in his muscles instantly melt away.

Working slowly, you push your hands up, fingers raking through the rusted red hairs. He shivers but he doesn’t squirm, always well behaved where it matters most. Behind the blindfold his pupils will be completely blown out, his eyes crossed, his soul almost clean out of his body from such a simple act.

“Good boy,” you murmur. Your hands skip his thighs and land gently on the bones of his hips, squeezing there as you shuffle forward to settle closer. “Are you ready?”

He lets out a harsh breath, one caught between a laugh and a whine.

“Do it.” He growls. Whines. Groans. “Do it, oh please—"

Your fingertips tickle down the trail of hair leading to his cock and then quickly dart the side of his thigh, making sure to affect every single hair there, too. He stills, breath held in his chest as you inch closer. A tiny little sigh escapes his parted lips when you make contact.

And then you rip the wax strip from his leg.

Instantly he arches up, back bowing in the air as he releases a long groan through clenched teeth. You watch as every muscle in his body rolls in pleasure, his cock jumping and twitching in its nestle of dark curls. His legs and arms shake from the pressure of keeping him up, and it’s barely a moment spent in the air before he collapses back down.

His hips touch the mattress, and you notice then that his breathing is rapid, shallow; he’s close to coming, so close, just from the pain alone.

Returning one hand to his hip to squeeze again, you lower your torso to press a kiss to the now-bare patch of skin.

He gives a shaky laugh.

“That—that was—ho—” He swallows, and when you take your lips away his knee bends to try and follow them.

“Wonderful,” you finish for him. “To watch, and to do. Would you like another?”

“Oh please—”

“But what am I going to do with you once there’s nothing there?”

You trace the little rectangle of pink skin as you speak, the space starkly bare compared to the surrounding skin.

You look up just in time to see a wicked grin twist Julian’s features.

“Well, I am a doctor, so I feel qualified to say that people usually have two thighs—”

“Mmmmm, that they do.”

“So you see my love, it isn’t really a problem of what to do with me, is it? You can always use the other thigh to get yourself off.”

Your eyes drop to that other thigh, and watch as it flexes and twitches.

Silently, you shift back and away from him, no longer touching any part of his body. His grin fades almost comically quickly, and his bottom lip catches between his teeth as his squirming starts anew.

You reach for the satchel containing the strips and pull a new one out, rustling the papers only enough for him to hear. You’re rewarded with an impatient groan, and a moment later Julian throws his head back against the hard wood of the bed with a dull thunk.

“So impatient,” you tut at him. He gives a shaky laugh.

“How can I not be, when you make me feel so good with such strange things?”

“If I recall, it was you who wanted to test this out.”

You peel back the protective paper and lean forward on your knees, smoothing the strip over the hair on the upper inside of his thigh.

“Hnnnggg—can—can you fault me for it, though?” He asks, stuttering as you just barely tug at the corner of the strip, a playful twist to your lips. “I—I—oh no—no no no—”

It happens before he seems to be able to stop it: his cock begins twitching, and a moment later he’s spurting cum, little dribbles and drops running down his cock and into the curls at its base.

His teeth gnash in frustration, and he curses under his breath.

You lean forward and kiss the corner of his lips, and he settles immediately, turning to seek your lips proper. His tongue sweeps in, and he releases the bed frame to cup your face in his as he devours you.

When you pull back with a soft gasp, like resurfacing from the deepest ocean on the planet, he reaches up to push the blindfold to his forehead, and you see that his eyes are indeed blown wide—but rather than at the pain, it’s at the sight of you.

His lips crook into a lopsided grin. “I want to be looking right into your eyes when you do it this time.”

“Mmmm, that sounds doable.”

Shifting back, you move to straddle his untouched thigh. At the feel of his hair against the bare lips of your pussy, you shudder and rock forward in an attempt to seek your own pleasure. His hands settle on your hips to steady you.

“Ready?” You ask, fingertips tracing the outline of the second wax strip, so close to where his cock is already hardening again.

Julian’s gaze locks with yours, and a grin flashes on his face.

“When you are, my love.”

And then you pull.

🍑 Requesting | Masterlist | My Ao3

#the arcana #julian #julian devorak #the arcana julian #julian x reader #julian/you #afab reader #writing #lemon

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asrasotherbottom · 5 years

Note

👀 henlo, i am here to request julian in maybe a little fic or just headcanons with one Specific content : him getting off humping and grinding on a pillow. preferably if it's on mc's bed and he gets caught JUST when hes about to Lose It and cant stop himself from getting the pillow dirty. in front of mc. and hes torn between horny and a little embarrassed/flustered about it. some subby dirty talk from julian while going at it thinking of mc before getting caught would be 👌 (GN!mc pwease)-malak

hewwo, ask and ye shalle RecieveContent warnings: ~Lemon~, pillow humping, getting Caught masturbating———————————————————————

Should I? They just washed everything yesterday and it looks so clean. But, oh, the sheets still smell like them.

Julian bit his lip, deep in thought. He was standing over MC’s bed in the palace. They had gone out for the day, but Julian didn’t have any plans. When he saw their bed, though, he was overwhelmed with a sense of longing for them. He noticed, however, the longing wasn’t only a feeling in his heart. He felt his penis stiffen slightly as he mulled over his decision. T

hey should be out all day, I’ll keep everything clean. Hopefully, er, I hope they don’t make me do laundry if I don’t. No! I’ll have plenty of time to do the laundry before they get back. It’s not like its any worse than if i walked own the hall to my own room. I might as well. I’m already here.

Julian climbed into their bed and laid on his back. He slipped his cock out of his pants and started to rub. He had to stifle his low moaning; servants were walking back and forth right outside the door. He changed positions so he was kneeling on the bed, intent on putting his face in the pillow to stifle his moans. When he put his face near the pillow, though, the scent of MC overwhelmed him. He grabbed the pillow and put it in front of his hips as he slowly started to thrust.

Ah, this isn’t my bed, this isn’t my pillow. What will MC say if they can tell what I’ve been up to? Hopefully they’ll give me a good spanking, its what I deserve for being such a dirty boy and fucking their pillow. God it feels so good, it’s so soft.

Julian had to clamp one hand over his mouth to stop from gasping as he started to thrust faster with the building tension. The whole bed was shaking.

They’ll know the bed isn’t how they left it. They’ll definitely know.

This thought only excited him more.He thrust faster and harder into their pillow, curling himself over it. He knew he was close, so very close. Suddenly, he heard the door swing open, and MC walked in. Their mouth opened in surprise. He was caught. The very sight of them pushed him immediately over the edge and he unloaded all over their pillow, breathing hard.

“M-M-MC! You’re, uh, , erm, youre back early.” He tried to brush it off casually as he kneeled there on their bed, exposed. Julian’s face was redder than a tomato. A sly smile spread across their face as they realized what had happened. They crossed the room and pushed him back on the bed.

“I hope you have time for one more.” They said with a mischievous smile. Julian flushed red again and nodded. “Good,”they whispered, “because afterwards, you’re doing the laundry.”

#Anonymous #julian #julian devorak #julian lemon #mine

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survivor-mesopotamia · 4 years

Text

Ep. #4 - “I’m extending a bridge to you” (Zach)

There is zero upside to being captain. If captains are swapped, then I'm basically screwed, and if they pick, then I have to reveal my allegiances to people still in the game. I absolutely do not want to be captain. I'm not crazy about Zach being it either, I'd prefer it to be someone like Kyle or Grace, but if Zach is going to push for it we will see what happens

https://youtu.be/9jTSUqwcuPU Confessional 7 (Round 3 #2)

Voting out Chrissa was probably one of the hardest votes I've ever had to encountered, and it honestly really hurts. For me, voting her out was the best strategically because we talked the least. And by the time tribal started, I ended up in alliances of 3 with Will & Megan and JJ & Julian respectively. Given the ranking system, we are all expecting some sort of tribe swap, which might be best for my game so long as I have someone else on my tribe with me. However, JJ recently got into a lot of trouble. Stuff about sending nudes because he "perceived there to be consent". Yikes. Apparently other people know about it too, which makes sense because this call happened in tengaged about it. We are thinking he might be removed, but we don't know what's to happen yet. I think most of us are running under the assumption that he'd be voted out next tribal should he not be removed. It's pretty gross what he did, and I definitely won't be aligned with him any longer.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VTzwD-rR8Ws&feature=youtu.be

I am happy JJ is out of the game, both because he deserves it based on his behavior and because one less number. The tribe challenge has me worried. I hope it is a challenge with Zach representing us, because he is good and it also keeps him a bigger target than me. If it's a swap, I'm very nervous and will probably have to paint myself as being on the outs if I end up in a minority, which would almost certainly happen relative to the other two tribes. No matter what, the backstabbing is probably going to start very soon, so buckle your seatbelts everyone.

Confessional 9: https://youtu.be/WhBt-uWOdEA Confessional 10: https://youtu.be/1ZbVWE-2AqM

volunteering for the summit bc im bored and wanna just be a bit risky. i feel like if a twist gets leashed upon me, it'll be surface level. Praying for the best!

Tribe Summit - https://youtu.be/46NdXf1N37U

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TeX4PKTjQlw&feature=youtu.be

https://youtu.be/96RCT99DDWI Confessional #8 (Round 4 Confessional #1) Contents: JJ's removal, the summit, Kyle's removal, new tribe.

Holy shit so we've had a tribe swap and two removals. Both kinda shocking and completely out of the blue what had happened. Oddly still not the craziest thing I've seen done on either end of org playing but still. So far with the new tribe I feel I got the good end of the stick with zach and Collin and myself staying together for the most part kinda wish we had all stayed together because of you know being out numbered by returning players there's the enitial Holy shit fuck I'm screwed feeling but so far the tribe seems pretty cool. Which is odd and weird from what I've heard for Tumblr games from my understanding they're the more cutthroat game but so far everything has kinda been predictable in placements just as an outsider looking in but ya know. So far I'm really enjoying Abby she seems pretty cool and like I could work with her for a while but yeah that's all for now

post swap BIG boy confessional https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UyooK5AHp1Y&feature=youtu.be

https://youtu.be/6IrXzJm6qNk

---

https://youtu.be/MoJSBeUUdWQ

https://youtu.be/CSKB4qzvWU0 Group Confessional #1 Catching up on Each other's games and preparing for what the swap has in store for us

Uhm hi so a lot has happened and I'm sorry I didn't do confessionals before describing it all but yah -Not sure if I did a conf for the last round but basically the challenge was more flash games (yay fml) and my tribe flopped yet again (yay) -We decided to vote out chrissa unan but chrissa apparently voted for me so that was cute, already breaking my goal of not getting votes so early THANKS CHRISSA -Then JJ got removed from the game for sexually harassing ppl which is NOT COOl but then my tribe was down to four members and thats just sad luv -Then there was a random ass ranking for this summit thing and i was like wtf i dont know but I kinda figured id be getting voted as the team captain for my tribe which like eeeek could potentially put a target on my back but also i like these people and i think they like me so i'll just accept it -turns out the other tribe captains voted in were Johnny and Zach and I was like well thats cute tbh i think i like both of them (i have been on zoom calls in friend groups with zachary lately and although he is pretty quiet he seems like a nice person) (and i think i know johnny from a sequester mini before and hes a brother of aepi which is basically the partner fraternity to the sorority i was in called aephi and so were basically connected by greek life blood because hes a pi and im a phi and yas Jews -Okay anyway i volunteer to not be a tribe captain because 1. i didnt want the blood on my hands for picking a tribe (memories of svalbard ahhhh) and 2. i wanted to be on johnny's tribe hehehehe. so i did that and then i let johnny pick first and guess what!! he picked me first on his tribe!! even before anyone from his og tribe!! i thought that was weird but really cool -the new tribe seemed pretty cool and chill and i thought i was digging everyone BUT THEN kyle makes fucking COMMENTS ABOUT JEW STEREOTYPES and i was like SIR and i kinda missed everything in the heat of the moment but basically kyle got removed and im not surprised he did because to my knowledge, i already know of three fkn jews on our tribe (benji me and johnny) and we have a jew host so like why kyle would make comments like that is beyond me but WHY DO I KEEP GETTING PUT ON TRIBES WITH CRAZY PPL -anyway right now i adore johnny and i want to work with him i feel like he and i vibe so well together and we are already planning on making a stoner alliance with abi and jay from his OG tribe lmfaooo -i also like grace and julian on my tribe and benji so far is really cool and isabelle is a sweetheart so i really just hope we dont lose the next challenge and have to vote someone out because i like these people so far and i wanna get to know them more -this has been a really mentally difficult week both in game and in real life and im sorry i havent been doing more confessionals but ive really just needed a huge break due to everything thats been going on

I've locked in a five person alliance with original An (Johnny Isabelle and Benji), plus Adam. Johnny I'm connected to with Trace, Isabelle and I somehow both go to Georgetown, and I like speaking with Benji. I don't know how this alliance interacts with original alliance, that's future me's problem, but I really like this group

---

If Megan “may have accidentally” found out information from the other tribe, then I “may have accidentally” decided to shift the target onto her. Somebody not purely abiding by the rules of the game is somebody I won’t completely trust

So JJ and Kyle both got removed. OOP!!! Now to figure out how messy this game is gonna be. Will Will and I be able to play middle for our first tribal and get to choose between returnees and newbies? hopefully. More on that scoop later!

https://youtu.be/vGd9Ik49CmU Confessional #10 (Round 4 Confessional #3)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=stpzz7-cKUg

Confessional 11: https://youtu.be/ad2R99H1g1k

https://youtu.be/PjodrB6CgLo

---

https://youtu.be/y0n7YKB0EF0

NOOOOOOO HOW COULD WE OF LOST we had everything planned i do feel kinda safe I've talked to abby mostly and i think i have a girls alliance in the works with her but for now being the only two female identifying people on the tribe. We have to pull in some boys but we've got our old tribe mates which lucky for me is my main alliance from that tribe not having Michael is a big yay because love him but pretty sure he was planning on flipping on us to work with some people from the an tribe but ya know it is what it is and hopefully this is the only trival Council we have to go to and hopefully from the sounds of it it's Eric going home so hopefully that's the case and i don't end up voinv home because FYCUCJUCK THAT SHIT

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D9YueU_paNg&feature=youtu.be

---

Of the players left on my tribe, I think Megan is the biggest threat to my game, with many cross-tribe ties. Last night, I began laying the groundwork with Johnny of eventually making her the target, without expressly stating my desire to vote her out. We'll see how this plays out, but I want Megan out first

---

From the other tribe, I badly want an original An to go. It takes away an option from the Ans on my swap tribe and locks them in more with me, while preserving my options. On the flip side, a Triforce member going is the worst case scenario for the exact same reason as above, this time benefiting original An. Original Enlil going is fairly neutral

https://youtu.be/7IpJ1SC2ah8

So we lost :( It really sucks bc i put more effort into my lip sync than I think I ever have before. And of course with losing comes tribal, the first tribal for some people on my new tribe. I don't think I've done a confessional since we swapped so I'll just run down how I feel about everyone. Monty/Abby - Just gonna bunch these two together since they were on my original tribe. While they weren't in my alliance, I bonded with them like I bonded with everyone on An. We made an alliance immediately at Ea and I feel real good about facing this swap with them. Part of me does worry they knew about that original alliance and they'll throw me under the bus though. Will - Okay so I was completely blindsided by the fact that I already knew Will before the game! We played at least 1 ORG together and I remember him a little bit from just being in the community. I feel like I've really hit it off with him again and working with him feels natural. He was the first one who threw Cameron out as a vote to me last night and a lot of people really latched onto that plan. So he's definitely charismatic and influential. Eric - I've known Eric for quite some time actually. He's someone who's very easy for me to trust. Like I really hope I'm not getting the wrong read on him but he just feels honest in our conversations. He did kinda suck in the music video challenge tho LOL so I feel like he could be in danger if we go to tribal again. Cameron - They're who I'm voting out tonight. I've had no contact with them outside of the tribe chat at all. And our interactions in the tribe chat I just feel...idk like every time I talk they give me some snide remark. Zach even told me that Cameron barely spoke to him and Collin on their original tribe. So it just feels easy, if a bit TOO easy, like I'm scared it's secretly me somehow. So I guess the upside to anxiety is you never get blindsided cuz you always think it's you. Zach - I've been talking to him more often these last few days and he is wayyy smarter than most 15 year olds I've interacted with. He knew it was Cameron immediately when I started talking to him about the vote (Though I suspect it's because Will told him). He's told me more info about his original tribe than I really thought I'd get out of him. He's basically telling me that it was Zach/Collin/Kyle vs. Cameron/The rest of the newbies. So like it makes sense that he's willing to just let Cameron go. However this situation is worrying because Zach's position is almost EXACTLY my position in a game I played very recently (703 San Andres). I've seen firsthand how a competent duo in the minority can upset the majority if just one person in that majority makes a mistake. So I'm not gonna promise Zach anything just yet, I don't want him to sell me out. But I would like to see him stick around even if we lose another time. Collin - Okay I REALLY like Collin. He's super nice, he basically compliments me every time I talk to him. Which is nice, but I know he's playing that social game. And he's playing it WELL. I think if all goes well at tribal, then I'm gonna talk to Collin about really working together going forward. Basically my overarching plan on this tribe has been to make sure that if my name comes up, there will always be someone to shut it down. And I really feel like Collin, Monty, and Eric would especially keep me safe.

Cameron left.......it sucks, because it takes away my options, but among the Enki's it is the least bad scenario, since I was closer with Collin and Zach. I don't hold it against them for voting against Cameron, do what you gotta do, but I am nervous for them. I'm not throwing any challenges or anything, but I hope they survive, and I'm less nervous about myself losing than them

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-kWts3h2n9s

hi hi hi so far so good on the Ea tribe! i dont think anyone know about zach and i so we're remaining in the clear hehe (he has been a little difficult to corral tho) i feel like im making good connections so far so hopefully ill remain utr and if we go back to tribal i wont be a target, and if we dont i hope the other tribe takes out a big target for us

Have I mentioned that I love winning? It's just so great that nobody knows me and Monty are working together and we're subtly pulling the strings - Jay thinks he came up with Cameron's name, great he's the mastermind now and we can target him. Collin and Zach want to form a four with me and Eric - great, that keeps me and Monty apart so nobody will know and we can still vote separately. Eric's an easy target for everyone so we (Monty) just get the other returnees to target him (if we lose again) and then I can use that to flip Eric on Abby or Jay and it's just... so delicious. It's so easy to take everyone out one by one when nobody knows that you have a solid F2 already.

https://youtu.be/CVG2Z_-XjBM from this past round

https://youtu.be/yMGLsGhv6wc Confessional 12

https://youtu.be/ylahV3wyXrs

Cameron voted out 7-1

#nomorethings

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queenofeden · 5 years

Text

shoutout to the person on ao3 who asked for more julian/laurel content i hope u feel fed

Day 13: Pegging

Pairing: Julian Devorak/Female Apprentice

Word Count: 1884

Summary:

“Julian, I--” Her voice catches in her throat, the words sitting in her mouth familiar but not. “I want to fuck you now.”

✨ My Ko-Fi // Read on AO3 ✨

"I look silly," she says, ducking her head. She watches in the mirror how her cheeks flame a blotchy scarlet, easier to focus on that than what hangs between her legs.

"You don't look silly," comes Julian's voice from the other side of the changing screen. Already he sounds breathless with anticipation, and it makes her gut clench and heart race in equal measure.

Laurel rolls her eyes. "You haven't even seen yet."

"I don't have to see to know the truth."

With a mirthless laugh, she runs her hands over the leather straps banding tightly over her hips, her thighs. The harness is beautifully made, but the quality of the items are hardly the issue. Hand tooled and soft against her skin, leather the color of fresh cream with gold -- real gold -- fastenings glinting in the lantern light, with a little false corset style lacing in the back that had made her feel cheeky when she'd ordered it, thinking surely, Julian will love this . It was beautiful, it had cost her a small fortune, and she would feel more comfortable in a potato sack.

To top it all off, the clear glass cock, the true centerpiece of the look, juts at a proud angle from her mound, confident in its abilities -- an attitude she wishes she herself could embody. Instead, she stands in front of the mirror, turning this way and that repeatedly, trying to find an angle to gaze at herself where she doesn't look…

Laurel sighs, and closes in on her reflection, giving herself a long, hard look in the eye.

Stop it , she hisses inwardly. Get it together.

With a final shake she forces herself to step out from behind her protective cover, into the small room where Julian lounges, already nude, on the bed. When he sees her, his eyes widen, lips parting in quiet surprise. Half hard on his stomach, his cock gives an interested twitch.

Laurel tries to smile, to bite back her unease. "Ta-da?"

Julian laughs, a quiet huff. " Ta-da , she says." He sits up and crawls towards her, stopping when he reaches the corner of the bed. He reaches for her. “Come closer, darling, let me look.”

It’s easier to move, to forget her fears, when he looks at her like that, like she’d gone and hung the moon just for him. Her hand fits into his, and he draws her into the circle of his arms.

“All this just for me?” he asks, hands skirting down her sides, over the leather at her hips, around to cup her ass.

Laurel gasps, resting her hands on his shoulders as her knees begin to quiver under his touch. “S-surprise.”

“You spoil me,” he whispers, eyes darting, never lingering on one part of her for too long before finding something else that catches his attention. Her breath threatens to rattle in her chest, but she stuffs the feeling down, unwilling to let herself sully the look of pure elation on his face.

“You deserve to be spoiled, Julian,” she says, tilting his head until his wandering eyes meet and linger on hers. He gives her a self-effacing smile.

“If that’s the case, do you mind if I, uh… partake in a little dessert before the main course?” His thumbs press her hip bones, between the straps of the harness.

She hisses, bucking into his grip. “What would you -- oh.” Her words falter as she watches him lick his lips. “I -- yes. If you -- okay.”

Julian grins, eager, settling himself into a comfortable position where he can kiss down her stomach towards where her false cock bobs between them. She sucks in a breath, watching him take the glass into his mouth, long lashes falling across his cheeks as he closes his eyes in bliss.

There is no sensation beyond the dull press of the phallus’ base against her clit, but watching him hollow his cheeks and suck her so greedily, wet moans of satisfaction coming from deep in his throat, sets her blood boiling just as sure as if he’d touched her sex. Her hands thread through his hair, not pulling, only gentle caresses meant to encourage.

“Julian--” She whimpers when he pulls off and licks up the curve with a broad stroke of his tongue. It’s flashy, showy, but that’s what this is -- a one-man show meant just for her. He grins, breathing heavily, a light sheen of sweat gathering at the same places he flushes rosy pink -- the bridge of his nose, at his temples, on the flat plane of his chest.

She leans in to kiss him, swiping the wetness off his own lips with her tongue. He sighs happily when they part, blinking at her dreamily.

“Julian, I--” Her voice catches in her throat, the words sitting in her mouth familiar but not. “I want to fuck you now.”

He shudders, eyes heavy lidded, and nods. “Yes, Laurel, please.”

She falters. “How do you--”

He takes her hand and leads her onto the bed with him, pulling her along on their knees. Hand on the back of her neck, he guides her mouth against his in a last, lazy kiss, then with cat-like grace, he turns onto his hands and knees, arching his back towards her.

“Just like this,” he says, watching her over his shoulder.

Laurel’s hands rest on the curve of his ass, dragging her blunt nails down the skin to raise red lines and gooseflesh. Between his cheeks, he shines, dusky hole already slicked with oil.

“You did this?” she asks, trailing her fingers down the cleft of his ass.

“To be fair, you left me waiting for quite a long time.” He shivers and gives a quiet grunt as the tip of her middle finger presses against his entrance, the well-worked muscle giving with ease, pulling her in to the first knuckle. “I -- ah -- I thought it would be easier f-for you.”

She smiles, working her finger deeper with shallow thrusts. He opens easily, and makes the loveliest noises for her -- whimpers and sighs with every press inside.

“Thank you,” she whispers, dropping a kiss to the small of his back, directly over a pale freckle. “You’re so sweet, my good boy.”

Her words she punctuates with a rougher thrust, pulling her finger out and easing two back in. He had done a wonderful job of stretching himself, the glide effortless, but still hot and tight around her fingers. He gasps, head dropping to the pillows, fingers gripping the coverlet until his knuckles turn white.

“P-please, please I want -- Laurel, please don’t tease any more, I’m ready.” His voice is reedy, half muffled by the bedding.

She withdraws her fingers. “Where--”

“Here, left.”

Under the edge of the sheet is the bottle of oil, half empty from when he’d used it on himself. Laurel takes it in hand, uncorking it and spilling the rest over the glass phallus. It drips onto her thighs, onto the bed, and she winces -- distracted briefly by the thought of laundry needing to be done -- before Julian’s impatient whines bring her back to the task at hand. She strokes the length of her cock, the motion backwards from what she’s used to, but feeling… good.

The hand not guiding her cock grips what little meat there is of his ass and spreads him wide. He gasps when the head of her cock, cool glass on hot flesh, presses against his hole and slowly slips inside. She goes slow, the angle hard and unfamiliar on her hips. He gives a deep, contented groan and pushes backwards, forcing her cock deeper by inches all at once until she is flush against him. They both gasp in tandem, her nails digging into his hips, gripping him with both hands now.

“Oh gods, Julian.” She gives a shallow thrust, and Julian cries out, voice ragged and cracking around the edges.

“K-keep going, ‘s… good. Please.”

With effort, she pulls her cock out until just the head stretches his hole, teasing the rim with the clear tip.

“You’re so pink inside,” she marvels, her own voice going hoarse, before thrusting back in. Julian chokes out a moan as she finds her rhythm, panting and meeting her driving thrust for driving thrust. She lays her chest across the line of his back, shallowing the pump of her hips, but giving her the reach to lay her oiled hand on his stomach, trailing down to grip his cock in her fist.

Julian gasps her name, trembling under her as she matches the tempo of her hand to the one of her hips. That same strange angle again, but this time made better with him hot and hard in her hand, flesh and blood, and she slicks her palm over his head and back down with a flick of her wrist.

“I -- I -- please Laurel, may I come? Please?”

“Already?” she pants, kissing the knobs of his spine.

He keens in response.

Laurel’s eyes slip closed, smile pressed to the skin of his back. “Okay. Okay, sweetheart, yes, come for me.”

She thrusts deep inside, pressing her hips to his ass, and focuses on the stroke of his cock, quick and tight the way she knows he likes to finish. He spills over her fist with a weak cry. Her smile turns to teeth that nip at his side.

“Ooh, thank you. Thank you.” Boneless, he eases himself off of her, arms and legs giving way to the softness of the mattress beneath them. He rolls, with a wince, away from the dampness of his own cooling spend on the coverlet, kicking weakly at it with his long legs until she moves and lets it slips away, leaving cool, dry sheets beneath them instead. Then he reaches for her, pulling her into his chest like a stuffed toy, his uneven breath hot against her neck. “Laurel you are... amazing. A wonder. A joy.”

“Hush,” she mutters, gripping his arm and kissing his wrist. The buckles of the harness dig slightly, trapped between bed and flesh, but it’s a discomfort she’s willing to put up with for the moment if it means being wrapped so completely in his arms.

“I will not hush. That was -- wow.” He laughs, giddy and riding high off his orgasm. “Give my soul a moment to return to my body, and I’ll return the favor, I swear.”

“I’m just glad you enjoyed yourself,” she says.

“An understatement, love. I enjoy myself on a pleasant evening stroll, or at an expensive meal.” He sighs, “That was, to reiterate, wow .”

“Well, thank you. That’s very kind of you to say.”

He stills, his arm around her tightening. “Did you? Enjoy yourself?”

She takes a breath. “I did.”

“You’re not just saying that to make me feel better, are you?”

This time Laurel laughs. “I promise, I’m not.”

She turns in his embrace, no longer satisfied with not seeing his face. The phallus is pressed awkwardly between them, but he smiles down at her all the same, radiant as the sun.

“But next time, I want to prepare you myself.”

His smile falters, then widens inexplicably, teeth taking over his face. “Next time?” he asks with a wicked tilt of his eyebrow.

Laurel kisses the corner of his mouth.

“Next time.”

#the arcana #the arcana game #julian devorak #julian x apprentice #arcanagame #my fic #kinktober2019

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pass-the-bechdel · 5 years

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Continuum full series review

How many episodes pass the Bechdel test?

73.81% (thirty-one out of forty-two).

What is the average percentage of female characters with names and lines for the full series?

32.75%

How many episodes have a cast that is at least 40% female?

Ten.

How many episodes have a cast that is at least 50% female?

One, episode 2.07, “Second Degree” (50%).

How many episodes have a cast that is less than 20% female?

One, episode 3.09, “Minute of Silence” (18.2%).

Positive Content Status:

The definition of unremarkable—it may not be making any egregious mistakes, but aside from its chief concern, it’s not saying anything of interest (average episode rating of 3.00).

Which season had the best representation statistics overall?

Season three not only had the best Bechdel scores, but the highest amount of female characters.

Which season had the worst representation statistics overall?

Season four. While it didn’t feature the episode with the least female characters—that would be season three—it features the least Bechdel passes and the least amount of female characters.

Overall Series Quality:

Worth watching. It won’t blow your mind, but it won’t waste your time, either.

MORE INFO (and potential spoilers) under the cut:

If a word describes Continuum, it’s “solid”. It’s a well-made show, one that understands the basic building blocks of well-made genre television and doesn’t attempt to upend them for the sake of upending them (except when it does). However, my enjoyment of the series is more intellectual than visceral, and creating a list of my top ten favorite episodes is nigh-impossible, since I don’t really feel that strongly about them as individual units.

So if the series is rarely great—if even its best rarely makes your heart race the way the best episodes of Nikita or Person of Interest do—then why do I still consider it exceptional and worth one’s time?

Reason number one: Kiera Cameron.

Television, over the past decade, has done a steady job of perfecting its female genre-show anti-heroes, which, unsurprisingly, has resulted in a fair amount of sameness. It is often enjoyable sameness, to be clear—Root and Shaw are fantastic characters, and I love them—but sameness all the same. These female characters do not care for the rules (except when they do—for example, they never look unattractive or unmade-up). They are loud. They are often hedonistic. There is a sense that characters have to be fun, even if they are A Lot. They are, in many ways, rebels. And to be clear, these stories are absolutely necessary; that we now have these characters is important. Yet, there are other ways to be, which are also equally compelling and equally feminist.

Kiera Cameron is not a rebel. All she ever wanted to be a comfortable drone (even as her instincts told her something was terribly wrong) and a mother. In another place, in another time, she’d be one of the Nazis who were allegedly “just doing [their] job,” which is not something one usually says of heroes. She is also decisive, quick-thinking, adaptable and manipulative, with a keen understanding of people. She likes operating under a clear leadership structure, but she can operate perfectly well—thrive, even—without it. Within forty-eight hours of being stranded in an entirely new world, she has integrated herself into its law enforcement apparatus and made a life for herself.

Kiera is, in the end, the best part of Continuum, because of the way the series allows her to be shaped by her contradictions. Credit must also be given to Rachel Nichols, who is one of the more underrated white actresses currently working on television. Continuum asks a lot of Kiera, and she allows her to be a lot of different things while still being recognizably Kiera.

A good protagonist deserves a good antagonist, and boy, does Liber8 deliver. The group may have an extremely silly name, but it is, like Kiera, something one doesn’t see every day: an enemy group with a point, and which arguably holds the moral high ground, even as it performs mass murder.

In a worse show, the various members of Liber8 would have been hypocrites. They would have either not believed in what they preached, or been more concerned with themselves than with the cause, or proved willing to abandon it for their survival. Alternatively, they would have been presented as all bark and no bite, more Robin Hood than Osama Bin Laden. And while all those things are true for one specific member of the group—Kellog—the fact that he exists at a remove both allows the series to explore that hypocrisy, while leaving Liber8 free to actually be something else.

Furthermore, I enjoy that Liber8 is smart. Mass murder is not the only thing they do. While I’m not sure I’d call Continuum a competence porn series the way something like Leverage is, there is something very satisfying about seeing Liber8 continuously switch up their tactics and be clever about how they approach their battle against corporate interests. Yes, they do mass murder, but they also do blackmail, corporate espionage, political assassination and political patronage, sabotage, whistleblowing, community-building, and public relations. They know that their cause will need funds, but don’t sell out in order to obtain them. It is very satisfying.

I’ve heard commentary on Continuum arguing that the series’ unwillingness to cast explicit judgment on Kiera is a weakness. In her own small way, she is complicit in the oppression of millions, and is willing to replicate oppressive power structures; shouldn’t the series have something to say about that? And yet, this...objectivity, I guess you could call it, is, I feel, one of the series’ chief strengths. It’s not that the series isn’t aware of what Kiera believes and has done; it’s just that the series trusts the audience to draw its own conclusions. Kiera can be heroic and have a fascist mindset. The members of Liber8 can be mass murderers who are also in the right. Dillon can be a cheerleader for the privatization of his police department, and still be sympathetic. A TV series can be a traditional police procedural at heart and admit that cops are scum 80% of the time. One doesn’t negate the other, and that the series goes as far as it does with its characters and concepts feels uncommonly audacious for the sort of show this is.

Another element that makes the series memorable is its commitment to its central conflict. Person of Interest may have been about the surveillance state and the increasing role of artificial intelligence, but most of its episodes were actually about Finch and company being super-heroes. The same could have been the case for Continuum—“police procedural” is a key part of its DNA—and the fact that it isn’t—that its anti-capitalist sensibilities are almost always there, and critical—helps make the series feel singular, and relevant. It’s not the first TV show to have something to say about a specific thing, but it’s easily the show most dedicated to saying it.

This, however, is a double-edged sword.

Simon Barry, Continuum’s creator, is a white dude. It shows. For all of the thought the show puts into the dangers of unchecked capitalism (or just capitalism, if you’d prefer), it puts very little, if any, into how oppression is shaped by prejudices or group identities. The future of Continuum may be terrible, we’re shown, and yet it never quite seems terrible enough, or weirdly uniformly terrible. That Jaworski, of all the Liber8 members, is the one who is most forcibly dehumanized by the corporate state rings very false. Having the majority of Liber8 consist of people of color isn’t enough—not when the series is claiming that 2077 is a direct reflection of 2012.

Similarly, while the show boasts more female characters than is the norm for shows like this, I can’t actually say it does much beside that. Going through the series, it’s hard not to notice that very few of the female characters have what I would consider a satisfying overall story. Betty is killed off after months of misery. Katherine is killed off before she can really have any sort of impact besides filling in a necessary storytelling role. Garza and Emily are in a sort of limbo by the time the series ends. Ann Saddler just disappears. Aside from Kiera, only Sonya is said to have a story with a beginning, middle, end, and like Betty’s, it ends with her death. While these are all fantastic characters, their stories are generally disappointing.

Part of the problem is, of course, that the show barely has time for deep dives into its characters’ psyches, given all the things on its plate. The show only has so much time to spend on character development, and its priority is breadth rather than depth. On the other hand, it’s hard not to notice that of the characters who do get consistent focus and character development (Kiera, Alec, Carlos, Dillon, Julian), only Kiera is a woman.

It’s also worth noting that while the show kills off fairly similar numbers of male and female characters—at least when speaking in absolute numbers—things look quite different when speaking in relative terms. It’s perhaps best seen with Liber8’s dwindling numbers: sure, you can kill off Jaworski, Chen, and Kagame, but you’ll still have Travis, Marcus, and Kellog. Kill off Sonya, on the other hand, and the hole she leaves becomes very hard to fill. The same rings true for the series as a whole, which is why its final season feels so bereft, when it comes to female representation.

Additionally, while it’s pleasing to see male and female characters used more or less in the same way (although it’s worth noting that this doesn’t actually result in a 50/50 gender ratio) it is less so when the series in turn makes an implicit argument that there is not a sexist element to institutionalized oppression. Scattered instances of potential subtext aside, the series has very little to say about sexism in the future, which again, rings quite false when so many of the characters are freedom fighters.

And yet…

Had the series been more traditional, it’s likely these issues would have felt fatal. Instead, they merely feel bothersome; they annoy instead of cripple. It either speaks to how satisfying Continuum generally is, or how dispassionate my enjoyment of the series is. In any case, Continuum does what it does so interestingly, it’s hard not to set all of these aside and just get swept away by it. It tried something different and did some very interesting things with it, and, as it turns out, that’s more than enough.

#Continuum #Female Representation #Bechdel Test #MimeParadox #full series review

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westallenfun · 5 years

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Before the Hood - 2/6

For @jade4813 from @backtothestart02

…

Chapter 2 -

Slowing his horse’s gallop to a trot, Julian brought the animal to a stop in front of its stall in the stables and swung one leg over the side to drop down onto the ground, while his stable hand held his grand horse steady.

“Thank you, Felix.”

The boy nodded and guided the horse into its stall.

Julian moved almost immediately after that, heading straight into his residence. His tutor would be in the library, no doubt to teach him more Latin. He abhorred Latin. It had no purpose, given few people could read and only the friar and other clergymen could understand and speak it in turn. Julian had no interest in spending long hours inside the house of God, dedicating his life to that of blind servitude and sacrifice and celibacy. Despite the fact that his knighthood had been forced upon him by his father, one of the highest-ranking guards of the King, he enjoyed the respect it granted him. And training in the art of jousting and archery and sword fighting certainly beat any other job he could’ve been pushed into.

Women fawned over him. Men looked to him as a promising lad for the future. He would go to the Crusades soon, and when he returned, he would obtain everything he wished. Separation from his father, a marriage to the woman Barry Allen loved, and all the gold and jewels he desired.

Maid Iris was a pretty little thing. Her dark hair and skin accentuated by her light-colored dresses, pinks and purples and yellows, all that were of a satin material ever since she’d become Sheriff DeVoe’s charge. Julian went to visit her often, trying to make a good impression. She appeared to be uninterested. But he’d impressed Sheriff DeVoe with his knighthood and manners and shared knowledge of Latin – ironically. Julian knew before he left Collin Woods for the battlefield, he could convince the man to sign a contract in Iris’ place, so they would be wed immediately on his return.

Julian wasn’t blind to Iris’ lack of affection towards him. He knew she’d been closed-minded from the start, unwilling to even consider him an option, because her heart still lie with the foolish boy who’d swept her off her feet before her father and brother had abandoned her in their departure from Collin Woods. As pretty as she was, and as admirably stubborn, Julian had no problem admitting that he wanted her for himself solely so Barry Allen couldn’t have her.

The odds were already against Barry with the scandal of his father taking on a female pupil in the practice of medicine – and not only a girl, but a peasant. Her only place should be that of cooking and cleaning and to marry another peasant at her own level. The fact that another knight, Sir Ronald, had promised himself to her baffled Julian. But he supposed it was not his place. He was even more uninterested in Caitlin Snow than Maid Iris on her own merit. All he cared about was hurting Barry Allen, who had more to live for than he could have dreamed. And he deserved none of it. He took all of it for granted.

Barry not only was able to get by without a real job that would add to the income of his household, but he spent most afternoons shooting off arrows in the middle of the forest. Reckless! If you asked him. Especially since he knew for a fact the arrogant boy had no intention of ever fighting in the great war of their time, alongside their King, who he claimed to miss dearly with the idiotic Prince John in his place.

Henry Allen might’ve preferred his son practice medicine, but he did not disown him when he refused to do so. If Julian had refused knighthood his father would have done exactly that. Thrown him to the streets, because how dare he not want something that came with so much honor, so much nobility, that promised him victory in his life and all that he desired. Despite Julian warming to the idea, he would always be bitter and hold resentment against his father for the pressure he’d put him under. When Julian had announced he was pursuing Iris, his father had just barely approved, and only because her station had been lifted up in Joseph and Wallace West’s departure. He supposed he should be grateful for that. But he couldn’t. It was only another instance in which Sir David Albert reigned supreme.

His father had never mourned his wife or his daughter’s passing. He beat Julian when he caught him in tears over their deaths. Women were not meant to grow attached to, he would say. They were meant for cooking and cleaning and bearing children. In his wife’s absence, Sir David Albert had hired a maid, Louise. Only five at the time, Julian had spent the next eight years being raised by her until he was forced into knighthood by his father. He’d thought it would bring them closer, but it only made him all too aware of what a villain his father could be. It benefitted him that he and Sheriff DeVoe were of the same nature, but Julian swore he would never be like him. He would obtain Iris for himself, but he would never lay a harmful finger on her – something that could not be said of his father’s actions towards his mother.

If Iris did not wish to clean and cook and sew, Julian would find a maid who would do those things. And he would make her fall in love with him so that she would never want to leave, never cry in the dark when she thought he was unaware. He would overcome his father in that way and also leave Barry Allen a destroyed mess without the woman he loved. Would he come to hate his father? Would he turn on his mother for never trying to stop Henry Allen from tutoring a peasant girl? It didn’t matter. The key would be in seducing Maid Iris.

That was the most difficult task. If he couldn’t do it before they were wed, he would be sure to do it afterwards. Either by turning her against Barry or by making him disappear. The idea of killing or hiring someone to kill the young Allen appealed to him for only a moment before he realized that would be still worse than what his father had done. He would not become worse. He would be better.

But Barry still needed to be poison in Iris’ eyes or he needed to leave. Julian just didn’t know how to go about choosing the latter.

“You’re lost in thought,” his tutor said as he walked into the large, quiet room.

Julian came to a halt and nodded once.

“I am ready for my lesson,” he said.

His tutor gestured to a comfortable chair in front of him, beside which sat a table and piles of books for him to learn from.

“Something troubles you,” his tutor said, looking at him contemplatively.

“When does it not?” Julian asked rhetorically on a sigh, selecting a book and flipping through it to find where they’d last left off.

“Let’s talk about it.”

Julian paused and looked up at the inquisitive, wise, older man, and wondered how best to get out of this particular conversation.

“I won’t tell your father,” he said, setting aside his own book. “Your welfare is my top priority.”

Reluctantly, Julian closed his.

“That’s not what we pay you for.”

“Consider it charity then.”

“I don’t need your charity,” he spat, harsher than he’d meant to.

“But do you need someone to listen? To really hear you, Sir Julian?”

His lips thinned.

“Is it Bartholomew Allen?” he questioned. “Do you want what he has?”

“I am not envious of him if that is what you are asking. I have almost everything I desire, and soon I will have the final piece.”

“The affections of Maid Iris.”

“Her promise to marry.”

“She is willing?” his tutor asked, surprised.

Julian’s brows narrowed. “In time.”

His tutor analyzed him most uncomfortably, until Julian nearly stood to his feet and walked out of there.

“You want something else.” His eyes widened. “To destroy young Bartholomew and all he has.” He paused. “To kill?”

Julian was unnerved by how his tutor could appear to know so much about what he was thinking. There had been rumors of him being a wizard in another land long before he arrived in Collin Woods. Julian had not believed it. But at times like this he wondered.

“You presume too much. You should keep to your studies, and to teaching me mine.”

“Perhaps.”

Julian shook his head and opened his book again.

“Let us get on with the lesson. I will forget this talk, and you should too.”

“As you wish.”

When the two had found their place in the accurate book, Julian met his tutor’s eyes to wait for his direction.

“Tell me what is on your mind, my pupil.”

Julian licked his lips, hardly daring to ask. Once it was out, it was out. If his tutor had truly once been a wizard, it was possible he could grant his request.

“Something…other than murder, something…equally devastating.”

“Betrayal, you think,” his tutor said, then thought again when Julian looked to interrupt him. “The appearance of betrayal.”

“A farce.”

“Within the Allen family. A façade that destroys.”

“Mmm.” Julian nodded. “Yes.”

His tutor’s eyes locked on his, Julian felt for the first time not unnerved, but powerful.

Will you do it?

“Twelve lines down at the beginning,” he directed, and Julian lowered his eyes to the book.

He began to read the Latin words, aware all the time of his tutor’s eyes on him. An agreement had been made. He felt it in every fiber of his bones. Something dangerous was about to happen, and he was responsible for what would unravel, all by the workings of his presumably loyal yet mysterious tutor, Eobard Thawne.

…

Snuggled close to her love, his jacket spread over her shoulders to keep her warm, Iris relished the feeling of contentment that came with being in the presence of and so near to her darling Barry Allen. He was everything to her. He was security and love and happiness and everything she could have ever dreamed. Growing up she resented the fact that women were forced into servitude of their husbands, but as she fell deeper in love with Barry Allen, she knew she wouldn’t mind that one bit. She would make him new jackets and hats. She would cook him tasty soup and roast a nice, hot chicken. She would kiss his worries away and bear him many children. She would do everything and anything expected of her as a woman without complaint if it could be solely directed at her love, Barry Allen.

What’s more she knew if she did decide to toe outside the line and do something for herself, that her Barry would let her. Even more so, he would encourage it. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree, and both his parents were warm and welcoming and loyal to any cause they took up. After all, Henry Allen had taken on a peasant girl as his pupil. Not to spite his son, but because he saw a yearning in Caitlin Snow to learn the knowledge he had to give. He did not see what society bestowed on her but what she wanted for herself. Barry was every bit like his father, though he undoubtedly had a soft spot for his mother. Even if they were the poorest of the poor, Iris would want for nothing as long as she lived with Barry by her side.

But she knew the possibility of their happily ever after was a far and distant dream. She was kept under lock and key in the DeVoe household. Clifford was a resentful, greedy, arrogant man she detested. He did not beat her, nor his wife that Iris was aware of, but he spoke harshly and had an assuming air about him. In fact the only visitor that he allowed into the house as long as she’d been there was Sir Julian Albert.

Julian’s detest of Barry and vice versa was more than enough of a reason for Iris to dislike him, but his eagerness to impress her in a clear effort to win her affections disgusted her. He knew she loved Barry, and maybe that was why he had developed a sudden desire to see her. She knew it could only possibly be to win her hand and steal her away from Barry. But she would not be stolen away so easily, or at all. Even if she and Barry could never be together, her heart would never belong to another. Especially since Julian appeared to get on so well with Sheriff DeVoe. Never in her life would she consent to marrying him. He would have to take her by force, and she would not go quietly.

But she preferred to push those awful circumstances to the wayside when she was with Barry. When she was with him it was only them. She could pretend they were really together for everyone to see, that they weren’t worrying about who might catch them, that everyone was happy for their union and they were soon to be married.

But as light started to trickle across the sky in shades of purple, pink, red, and orange, Iris was forced back into the reality they lived in. And that reality was that they’d stayed out far too long. And if they were caught, the results would be devastating.

“Barry!” she whispered in a gasp, his jacket falling off of her as she sat up abruptly. “Barry! Wake up!” She shook him fiercely and finally his eyes opened.

“What…What’s going on, Iris?” He rubbed his eyes. “Why are you so-”

“It’s dawn!” she said, stumbling to her feet. “It’s not night anymore. It’s daybreak. If I don’t get back before the DeVoe’s wake up, I may never be able to see you again!”

The gravity of the situation made Barry spring up and take her hand. They ran through the forest, near the sounds of the birds so their running feet could be stifled by other morning noises. When they reached the fortress Iris was meant to be locked up in, Barry started to lift her up so she could find her footing and climb over the other side.

“Barry, wait.” She gripped his arms.

“Iris, we don’t have time. I can’t- I’m not going to be the reason I never see you again.”

Her eyes filled with tears.

“I don’t want to be the reason either,” she said, clutching his shirt tighter.

“Then don’t be,” he whispered, cupping her face to reassure her. “Climb over that wall, go to your bed, and sleep a few hours more. Pretend you’ve been there the whole night, as you always do, and tomorrow night we will meet at the lake again.”

“Even if it’s cloudy?” she asked on bated breath.

“Even if the earth is shaking and the heavens pour forth water from a thousand seas and everyone is watching, I will meet you at our place, and I will wait as long as it takes for you to come to me.”

“Oh, Barry.”

He kissed her. There in the wakening day, he kissed her hard, pulling her flush up against him, willing this to not be the last moment they shared. When they broke apart, he locked his eyes on hers, begging her to listen to him and follow through with what he asked.

“Go,” he said.

Iris swallowed and nodded, letting him help her up the stone wall. When her legs swung over to the other side, she looked down at him and he smiled up at her – a little one, to congratulate her on her little victory.

‘I love you’ on the tip of her tongue, she decided against it, choosing to believe they would see each other again. She used the vines and protruding stones to climb her way down until her feet touched the grass again. Then she turned around, quietly crossed the yard until she was inside. But when she opened the door to her room, she was stopped dead in her tracks. For there in the chair beside her window sat Marlise DeVoe.

“Good morning, Iris,” she said.

Iris didn’t move a muscle.

“I thought we should talk,” she continued, gesturing to a wooden chair across from hers.

“And if I don’t want to?” she said, indignant in a way she couldn’t be with Clifford.

Marlise smiled sardonically at her young charge.

“I really think you do.”

…

Barry’s heart was racing the whole way back to his house. The sound was so loud in his ears that he couldn’t even hear his own feet on the ground, which he no longer tried to conceal from any early morning risers.

They’d never got that close to being caught. Never.

They’d always been so careful. Meet up at the lake, spend some time getting lost in each other eyes and telling each other how in love they were, and then get back to their homes before anyone suspected a thing.

But this time, he couldn’t recall whose decision it was, but they had ended up lying on the grass in the warm summer air, and before either of them knew it, they had fallen asleep. It was probably the best sleep Barry had in a while if he was being honest. Even the sun stretching across the sky wouldn’t have been enough to wake him up with Iris cuddled in his arms.

So, in truth, they’d been lucky that Iris was a little more likely to startle herself awake when danger was imminent.

And it had been imminent. Barry just hoped it was a close call only and not the last time he’d see her. He didn’t want something terrible to happen to her in that house if she’d been caught. He never asked her about her experience there, not in the six months she’d been living there, but she didn’t volunteer information either, so he figured it either wasn’t that bad or it was bad enough that she didn’t want to talk about it.

He’d let it pass from his mind without a second thought before, but now he worried for her. He’d be going out of his mind with worry until nightfall when they would meet up again. If she met him at their spot, he could ask her what had happened, and hopefully she could soothe his worries. But if she didn’t…

Well, he didn’t want to think about that. Not now. Maybe he’d pester Cisco later in the day. He’d reassure him, right? It wasn’t as if he could go to anyone else. Cisco was the only one who knew about his late-night meetings with Iris, and he preferred it to stay that way.

Finally approaching his home and grateful to see his bedroom window still cracked open, he moved toward it, hoping to get inside unnoticed and a few more hours of sleep before he went in town to distract himself with repairs and babysitting.

The window squeaked a little, but his slim frame allowed him to slip inside and shut the window without alerting his parents who he assumed were still asleep in their bed. Kicking his shoes off quietly, he walked over to his bed and pulled back the covers, intending to will himself to sleep despite the sound of birds and the adrenaline from his taking Iris back to her residence energizing his mind.

But after he slipped into his bed and pulled the covers over him, yanking the drapes shut so he’d be able to shut out some of the light from outdoors, Barry realized he couldn’t hear the gentle snoring typical of his parents when they slept. Instead he heard murmuring from a nearby conversation. He held his breath, his first thought being if his parents knew too. What a thing it would be for both him and Iris to get caught because they’d foolishly fallen asleep in each other’s arms. He certainly wouldn’t be in physical danger from his parents. They’d likely just be worried for him and Iris. Still, it was something he’d been hoping to avoid.

Instead, when he went to his bedroom door and opened it a crack, Barry saw his parents in the living room talking. They were clearly tense, and he couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, but he leaned out a little into the hall – lucky to still be in the shadows – and focused his listening on the whispers coming from the distant room.

“Henry, are you sure?” Nora asked, wrapping a shawl around herself as she moved to shut the open front window.

“Yes,” he said, then nodded. “I know why you’re hesitant, why you worry. But I think we have enough saved up to keep us going.”

“For a while maybe, but-”

“These people need our care,” he persisted when she turned back to him. “And they can’t afford it. Those damn taxes are raised higher and higher every day.” One of his hands curled into a fist. “And that good-for-nothing sheriff of ours collects twice a week now.”

“I know,” Nora said on a soft sigh, placing her hand on her husband’s and slowly uncurling the tight fist, making him relax.

“Just a couple weeks,” he said, leaning his forehead against his wife’s. “With that much money still in their pocket, I can go back to charging a little so we can stay afloat.”

Nora swallowed hard. “And if not? What if the sheriff raises the taxes so the money they would’ve paid you still ends up in his pocket?”

Henry sighed. “Then Barry will have to get a job.” Nora opened her mouth to object, but he continued. “A real job, Nora. Not…babysitting and nailing some broken panels back on.”

“Henry.” She frowned, her brows narrowed in her son’s defense. “He does more than that, and you know it.”

“It doesn’t matter what he does!” Henry’s voice rose, and Nora placed her fingers across his lips, making a deliberate nod towards the hall.

“Your boy is still asleep,” she said in a hushed whisper.

Barry was grateful his mother hadn’t actually looked down the hall and therefore hadn’t noticed him. Or if she had, she hadn’t let on to his deep gratitude.

“He needs to get paid, Nora. Helping out the townspeople is all well and good, but he’s taking for granted the fact that I can support us and isn’t pulling his weight. He needs an income to contribute to the household. He doesn’t have one. There’s no back-up plan until he does. I won’t turn my patients away.”

Nora nodded, the end of the conversation in sight.

“P’rhaps it’s good he didn’t want to go into medicine then,” she said, trying to lighten the mood. “If you were both in the clinic giving free services, there’d be no back-up plan at all.”

Henry sighed.

“He just needs your approval,” she said softly, rubbing his back. “Tell him you love him and that you’re proud of him, and he’ll find a job that pays a wage.”

Henry groaned. “He’s too good, Nora.” He lifted his head to press a kiss to her lips. “Just like you.”

She smiled slowly. “You don’t think he’ll take a fair wage?”

“I think he has a heart of gold that loves to make people happy. And what makes people happier than free labor?”

Nora chuckled and leaned her head on her husband’s shoulder.

“Just have a talk with him, my love. He may be more willing than you think.”

Barry’s mind spinning, he stepped back into his room and shut the door. He should’ve known this might happen, what with the raising of taxes and his father’s gentle heart, his unwillingness to turn people away who truly needed him. In a way he was doing the same thing with the townfolk who needed assistance with their daily tasks. But his father was right in that they both couldn’t be servicing people for free. A doctor’s income was higher than most, but what they’d saved up wouldn’t sustain them for long if the taxes kept rising.

Barry would have to find a job – a real one – as much as he despised the idea. And he knew people wouldn’t be a fan of him asking for a wage when he’d gone around offering his services for free. But maybe they would understand. Everyone except the corrupt sheriff and prince, as well as the Ramon’s, appeared to have a decent opinion of him. Perhaps someone could offer him work with pay.

At any rate, it would be best to go around asking before his father broached the subject with him. Things would start harmonizing a lot quicker between the two of them if he was one step ahead of his worried father.

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