#also like... if necessary rip it up a bit and then put it in food

[bomberqueen17]

archaeology report snippets

So I'm still chewing through Vol II of the Must Farm Site Reports. Vol I was a bit dry but comparatively breezy, like 350 pages of summary. Vol II is the specialist reports, broken out by topic, and it is. Well. Dense. (I'm on page 1189 of Vol II, and have just reached the section on coprolites, LOL.)

But. I printed off a map of the site while reading Vol I, and have been notating things on it as I read. And so I can do things like. Well, I got to the bit about the beads, and noted down the findspot of the one assemblage of beads that very, very likely was a strung necklace (including the large amber bead, the photo of which in the fingers of a finder is the main image on the post I reblogged about the whole thing)-- and was able to put together that this necklace was probably dropped very close to the likely location of an exit door from the structure. Some of the beads were shattered by the heat, but the amber bead was only slightly charred-- and amber burns very well and readily, as I found out when I had my own house fire some years ago. (RIP those earrings I loved)

More random observations under the cut, and I do mean random. I should write up a proper summary sometime, and maybe I will, but I'm still going through the first readthrough. So this is just scattershot Things I Care Deeply About.

Among the textile finds was a lot of flax. Flax seeds, in caches-- some near the food but others not, likely seeds for replanting the next year. Flax stalks, unprocessed. Flax fiber, processed. Flax spun into thread. Linen fabric.

There was also a lot of flax debris all over the floor. They'd rippled, broken, and scutched the flax indoors. Flax seeds and chaff everywhere! But the floors seem to have been covered in grass and reed mats, largely. And there were live sheep in the houses, who left shit scattered around, much of which charred and was preserved. So I suppose a few flax seeds and some chaff wasn't going to add a great deal to the assemblage that wasn't already there.

The flax wasn't retted.

The wheat had been picked by hand, and then the wheat straw had been uprooted to harvest it in as long a length as possible. The straw was woven into mats and some might have been roof thatch.

They ate wheat prepared several ways, and they seem to have stored it still in the hulls, then threshed a few days' supply at once, then roughly ground it, and only finished grinding it more finely into flour right before using it. In a wet environment this made the most sense to keep it from spoiling. They made the wheat into porridge, dough, and also several pots were found with mixtures that included a lot of unpalatable chaff-- possibly they were brewing this mixture, as the chaff would give the necessary breathing room for fermentation to take place.

The textile remnants were all preserved by charring, so there's no information remining about color. No evidence of dyeing exists in the region until a bit later, the Iron Age. But there were roots of yellow iris in the corner of the building where the loom probably was, and one had been neatly cut in half: yellow iris is occasionally used in medicine, but is also a decent yellow dye.

It was the Bronze Age, and there were many bronze tools discovered-- a sort of "set" in each of the households, like everyone had around the same quantity of tools for various purposes. But there were also a bunch of flint tools discovered. Bronze Age worked flints aren't anything on the artistry of those of earlier eras, but the basic functional knowledge was obviously retained, and I feel like the little flint knives were like shitty plastic-handled scissors of today, you'd get one and use it until it broke and toss it and then go whack another flake off the household flint core. There were flint "querns" in three of the houses, similar in shape to the stone querns used to grind grains, but the flint ones would leave dangerous razor-sharp shards if they were used for food, and in other contexts have baffled archaeologists-- why would you make a quern out of a dangerous material? Here's the answer: They were used as sandpaper. If you had a wooden item you wanted to sand smooth, you used the flint block for it. You also, in a pinch, could flake yourself a new cheap little knife off the side of it.

There were a few human bones discovered and all of them were old. Most of them were in the mud under the houses, as if they'd been deposited just before the houses were built. One was a near-complete skull that was worn smooth with handling, and possibly had been worked immediately after its owner (a young probably woman)'s death to make the base flat so it could sit on a shelf or table. One was an arm bone with butchering marks on it, gnawed by dogs at some past point. There was a vertebra, in one of the houses there was somebody's adult canine tooth, and outside the wall of the settlement there was a bit of a femur that had been roughly handled (possibly deposited from the earlier causeway there, which the settlement had been built overtop the ruins of). Only one bone had charring to suggest it had been in the conflagration, it was a bit of a skull and had apparently been somewhere in one of the houses as it burned-- maybe in the roof rafters. So it seems like there was some practice with dedicating a site with human remains? It doesn't read like ancestor worship, which had been my first thought, but those descriptions-- well obviously their ideas of what was suitable or respectful were different than mine but. They read more like offerings, perhaps. Impossible to know! But fascinating. None of the human remains are of the people who lived there, that's fairly certain given the age of the bones and the contexts. (Another bit of analysis: isotopes of the bones suggest their owners had eaten highly terrestrial diets, while we know from coprolites and fish bones that the people in the pile dwellings were eating fish.)

Most of the collapsed buildings lie in such a way that it's clear they were not disturbed after the burning, no attempts were made at salvage, the site was not interfered with. Except for one of the buildings, Structure 3, which was damaged in the 1970s so we don't have much of it-- but of what's there, several of the timbers are disarranged in a way that doesn't make sense for how the building would have collapsed, and one of the beams especially looks as though someone flung it aside sometime after the building collapsed-- possibly much later-- but before the site was buried in sediment. Either a survivor coming back just to look for one important thing, or a much later scavenger poking around? Impossible to say. But it wasn't beavers, and no other animals would bother with timbers like that. And whatever they were looking for, they didn't disturb any of the other ruins-- at least, not of the ones that survived to be excavated. It is important to remember, as we discuss the site, that given the shape of the palisade and the extent of the quarrying nearby, there were probably originally twice as many buildings at least, if not more, and no trace survives of the rest.

While there's no evidence of bronze casting at the site, suggesting all the bronze implements would have been imported from elsewhere (and their somewhat-diverse origins don't contradict this, though many of them are similar/of similar material), the pottery does seem to be local. The assemblage of pots also all have a fairly strong stylistic resemblance to one another, but are not all made with the same level of skill. It seems very likely that within the community were several potters, some more experienced and some novices, and the work was shared among them, but they clearly worked in close proximity and shared stylistic preferences and techniques. One pot in particular is rather lopsided and there's a lump where the clearly-novice maker thinned the wall too much and had to glob more clay on to fix the hole. They broke a lot of pots-- estimates put it at a pot per week across the whole settlement, a pot per month per house-- and it was mostly the cooking pots that got broken. It's possible to estimate how many people were eating in each house by counting how many eating bowls and drinking cups there were.

Piece after piece of evidence tells us this settlement didn't last long-- the wood was green when it burned, and oak seasons in a year or two; there are no signs of nuts or fruit which ripen in late autumn; the wood was all cut at once sometime between March and September given the state of the sap in it, and the pilings were certainly driven when the water was at its lowest in the winter; the articulated lamb skeletons totally free of any evidence of butchery were probably live lambs when the fire started and given their age and the time lambs are born it was late summer or early autumn when they died.

To that I'll add that I know flax ripens in high summer and the debris of processing it was all over the floors.

Piece after piece of evidence suggests these people were farming on dry land, had largely terrestrial diets. But they were also eating fish, we know from the arcs of pike bones scattered outside the footprints of the houses. There's very little residue of fish in their cooking pots, but we also know they were eating it, and eating it undercooked or raw in some instances, because of the parasite eggs in their coprolites. And the absence of roundworm eggs suggests they did not spend much time in terrestrial living settings; many of those sites when explored show evidence of roundworm infestations. I haven't seen this conclusion drawn yet in the literature but that suggests to me that they came to this pile-driven settlement from another one, if they only spent at most a year here. But that's just my concusion.

I keep not looking at the index of Vol II so I keep thinking I'm at the end and then there's another chapter. The joys of reading a PDF rather than a paper book, LOL. Oh I'm almost at the end! OK let me read this last chapter then. Oh it's a report on the mechanics of the conflagration. Okay. This is the central mystery! Well they say up front they can't possibly tell what caused it.

Other pile-driven lake-dwelling settings from similar eras are known to have been burned down, possibly deliberately, and then rebuilt over the top of the ruins, probably because the buildings would be so difficult to maintain and it would be easier to reuse the prime settlement spot without the debris of old, failing buildings. This was very, very clearly not that.

"The presence of so many items of apparent value and use within the conflagration debris, and the deep, localized char patterns on timbers left to smoulder for many hours undisturbed, when a person present could have easily separated them to extinguish the last burning elements and to save useful timbers from destruction, suggest the inhabitants were either unwilling or unable to respond to the fire, or else unaware of the destruction." (p. 1264)

They think it started in the southeast-middle of Structure 1, and collapsed the roof of it rather quickly but not before spreading to the others. But there are no signs of any attempts to put it out. The smoke would have been visible for miles, even if by some weird chance everyone in the settlement was out doing something like tending the dryland fields their crops were obviously in (there's no way this would be true for a routine reason, you just can't leave premodern houses untended like that, somebody is home to tend the fire and start dinner, that's just got to be how it works, but even if everyone had gone out they would see the smoke and come back!); it's not like there wasn't water all around to use to put out a fire. It starting in one place not many, with no sign of accelerants or fuel caches placed around to speed it, is a sign that it wasn't intentionally set, but it's just plain bizarre that nobody tried to put it out, or tried to salvage anything from the houses, or even just set loose the live animals that were in the houses who surely would have fled (they weren't tiny lambs, they were a few months old, well old enough to run).

Something happened, but we just can't know what. The fire burned unattended, un-interfered-with: nobody was inside. We simply can't know why.

#must farm #bronze age #british history #archaeology

[warp--space]

Starting Over

Hinata Abigail-Jinx Yagi, 5 years old, cried silently as she trudged through the darkness of her quirk.

How did this happen?

Why did this happen?

And how did this man know to find me?

"Ah, truly I should have known something strange was happening," the scary quirk-stealing man said, his grip on her arm far too tight as he walked beside her, "All of those prophetic nightmares… of course someone was interfering! How could I have been losing otherwise! Now all I need is for you to put us on a more correct course… and then, it will be checkmate."

As if I will let you win.

Hinata, 5 years old on the outside and mentally nearly 20 after rewinding her body's timeline during the chaos of this man's assault on her family, let her tears fall. It was easy to play the scared little girl— she was a scared little girl, truly— but she'd been through enough to have already made a plan for this type of scenario.

Following the soft tug, she found it. The timeline she needed.

She led All For One down the path to his doom, hiding her smile as the sleeping iteration of her dad came into her line of sight.

It was time to start winning.

~~~

All Might carefully maneuvered the small scraps of a human being he was supporting with one arm, skin still prickling from the things he'd seen in that lab, as he locked the door behind them and walked into the hideout's entryway. He'd only been going there to stake things out a bit-- he wasn't planning on demolishing it yet, but... But then he'd snuck his way into the viewing room, right as they were about to start cutting into the largest of the kids. He could tell from scars and little marks around their body that it wouldn't have been the first time... But when he heard that scream, the villain had snapped.

He gently set the bundled up… people down in his couch, turning on a lamp and reaching into his pocket as he unrolled a set of files he'd snatched.

Name: Lilly S.

Age: 8

Gender: F

Quirk: phasing (able to move through objects and cause objects to be free from the laws of physics)

American Import. Caught trying to sneak in to find R#####.

Name: R##### S. (Will fight unless referred to as Ryan Rian)

Age: 21

Gender: # M?

Quirk: Trans-Spatial/Dimensional Warp Gates (portal maker) ((Suppressants required every 10-12 hours to maintain control of the subject))

American Import. Subject chosen for experimentation before being given to…

Toshinori saw the name in the "subject description" and nearly ripped the paper to shreds. Fucking monsters. The notes written throughout the older one's document in red ink were... Odd. Confusing. Why cross out the Female marker, instead of just fixing the document? And the original name was violently scratched out. The age was also surprising. He certainly didn't look like he was in his 20s... He barely looked like a high school kid. The two young girls weren't in any better shape, either… though he had not found a file on the blonde one. The other two were easily recognized as siblings, while that one...

It was odd… she looked at least half Asian. It was a rare thing for blonde hair to mix so thoroughly with Asian features. He didn't really know anyone besides himself with those traits.

The vigilante sighed. He hadn't planned on taking anyone in, let alone three kids. Did he have enough food? He certainly didn't have any clothes that would fit any of them... But they would all definitely need them. And a good scrubbing.

And why the hell was he so ready to let them stay here…?

Why did those faces, that name Rian, look so... Familiar?

Why was that scream so earth-shatteringly similar to something he'd heard before?

All Might tiredly rubbed his temples, heaving a sigh as his phone suddenly rang. He flipped it open— he carried numerous old models that he could easily toss if necessary— and growled. "It's 3am, Nighteye."

"Yes, and you just got back from a surprise raid of the research facility, bringing back several people. I'm three— two blocks away from your location."

The blonde frowned. "What?"

"If you ever listen to a word I say, listen to what I'm telling you right now. All Might, do not touch the blond—"

"FWEEZE!"

Mirai's voice broke off abruptly, and the very air tasted stale as the old vigilante's hair stood on end. Slowly, he turned around, and Toshinori Yagi nearly dropped the phone as he met his own eyes lodged into the face of that cute little girl as she woozily sat upright.

"I don't want anyone ewse tewwing you befowe I do."

Toshinori swallowed, biting back a threatening headache as he inwardly asked himself if he had it in him to punch a toddler.

"... Who are you, and how the fuck did you just stop time?"

"I didn't stawp it…" the little girl grumbled, clambering almost clumsily down from the couch. "I wemoved us fwom it. I need to tawk to you befowe unky Nighteye gets hewe and has a heawt attack."

All Might's eyes narrowed, one eye squeezing shut as his head throbbed. "You didn't answer the first part of my question, squirt. Who the hell are you? You realize I can kill you before you can blink, right?"

The girl sighed, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, I'm vewy much intimate with that knowwedge, owd man. It won't be the fiwst time you kiww me."

That gave the vigilante pause, and he hesitated. "... Come again?"

The little girl stood straighter, her hand thumping her chest as she gave the widest and cutest little grin he'd ever witnessed in his life.

"I'm Hinata Abigail-Jinx Yagi! And papa, I'm youw daughter fwom the futuwe!"

#oldspace #new timeline #antis dni #proselfship #proship selfship #selfproship #yagi family values #yagi family story #yagi starting over

[witchthewriter]

I've been casually stalking your blog for a bit and loved the ship posts as of late. I'd like to join in and will be reblogging a fair few of your post on my main blog & BTVS side-blog (peroxidepoems) I'd like to request a Level Three tier for Stranger Things, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and Marvel. Description: I'm 5'2, olive complexion, transmale (he/him/they), with a preference for males partners but demiromantic toward any gender. I have short brown hair, often unstyled - unless you consider bedhead to be one, and hazel-eyed with glasses. I'd say my physical build is average - not too lithe or toned. I have a fair few blemishes, some moles but mainly scars; on my hands, arms, and legs. The biggest and most insecure scar is on my lower back, wider than 3'' and travels up my spine by 6''. All gained naturally by being adventurous as a child and getting into trouble.

As wardrobe goes: I'd consider myself a misfit at best and a confused goth at worse. I'm often in worn-out ripped jeans, converses or boots that have seen better days, a black design logo/band shirt, with an equally noticeably well-worn jacket - leather and cloth. Even in extreme heat, I wear long-sleeved shirts or a hoodie - subconscious of my scars being visible. I'm usually lugging around a messenger bag that has pins and patches. Honestly, I always have a safety pin or a patch holding something together. I truly believe in using something until it can no longer hold its purpose. Even when an item can no longer be of use, be that a bag or beloved shirt, I'll hang it up on the wall or on a shelf. Personality: I'm introverted by nature; quiet and observant. Often choosing a homebody life, consuming media, rather than partying. Although I still enjoy drinks with friends and conversing about shared interests. I can be protective and hot-heated at times, blunt when necessary, and overly subconscious about how others perceive me. I try my best to not let it get to me but the thoughts are still there. I was once told, before the age of twelve, that I was an old soul. I struggle with selective mutism due to anxiety. It has been a part of my life since I can remember, once resulting in a whole year of not speaking in my early childhood. During such episodes, I fall back to ASL or choose to not converse at all. Likes/Dislikes: I have a fascination with macabre. Not necessarily the gore aspect but more along the lines of psychology. With this, I tend to study what is considered dark mythology; supernatural creatures, paranormal, and the deities associated with death. I watch true crime shows and documentaries as well, but in the sense of wanting to understand - not to romanticize what has been done. With that said, I do find interest in horror movies and shows alike. My favorite category is psychological thrillers. I enjoy a piece that makes you have to analyze, imagine, and contemplate. As for dislikes, there are very few things I show a distaste toward. Overly crowded areas, the deep ocean, spicy food, and the lack of passion that some choose to have are among the list. So many are willing to write a person off by sheer looks alone, not putting effort into knowing a person, and I find that sad. Everyone has a story to tell, a lifetime of knowledge to share, and should be given an opportunity to speak for themselves. Rather than being written off as a lost cause. Or worse, not worth the time or effort. Hobbies: Drawing is my main sense of expression. Often done as an outlet and show of affection. I enjoy reading and writing as well. There is not a time when I don't have a book or drawing pad on hand. I also dabbled in music. Having done seven years of high school band, marching and concert. I grew up with the piano too and picked up the violin later in life. Although I am a master to none. There were other times that I've done martial arts and skateboarding, but neither of those went very far. Now, besides art and writing, I mainly collect skull-like merch. From an hourglass, shirts, miniature gem carvings, mugs/cups, to wall decor like a dragon skull incense burner.

I apologize if this was quite a lot to read, but I do hope it is useful. Thank you for taking the time to match me with the character you see fit. I find these fascinating and look forward to the outcome. 💙

Want to be shipped? Here be the instructions 🦋

I love all this information - it is SO helpful! Both of your blogs are out of this world dude - they're literally so gorgeous🌷Also wow are you a writer because this is so eloquent! I hope we can be friends/ mutuals!!!

What each ship has in common:

⋆ Caring ⋆ Genuine  ⋆ Authentic  ⋆ Witty ⋆ Charming

𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬  

𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

I ship you with Steve Harrington. I think you would do well with someone that can be happily alone with you. Someone that doesn’t seek out heart-pumping adventure; someone like a parental figure... responsible in that sense. 

𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠

・Steve would always encourage you - in whatever you do. Whether that’s band/music, your drawing, etc. 

     “Babe, you’re a genius,” he would mutter against your neck. 

・Knows when you’ve had enough of other people, he can talk for the both of you. His extroverted nature makes it easy to be around because even when you do want to be around people, but don’t want to talk - he’ll step up to the plate

・Writes cute little notes and hides them in places. Your books, your bags, your drawers. He loves gift giving. 

・Would absolutely learn ASL. Hands down, no questions asked. He will spend hours learning everything about it and would surprise you when you didn’t want to talk 

・

𝐁𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐕𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐒𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫

𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

I ship you with Angel! He would absolutely understand your quiet and reserved nature. He’s similar in that aspect; he doesn’t enjoy a lot of people’s company and seeks out solitude. 

𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠

・He would do everything for you - if you needed groceries, anything to do with your car, tasks around the house. Angel is on it. He likes that he has someone to look after, other than himself. 

・Angel has seen everything and been around nearly every type of person there is. So nothing can scare him off. I say this because some people don’t understand neurodivergent people, but he would definitely get you. 

・You would relax together alone, but together. Oh god I could have worded that better. But basically, you would be in the same room, him on the lounge with a book and you at the table with your tablet, drawing something (probably him.)

・Type of bf to frame any sort of drawing or artwork that you do. He beams when he sees what you’ve made 

   “That is definitely going in the hallway.”

・Loves showing you everything he knows, he’s experienced. You would always feel safe with him, so your anxiety was getting too much, he would know how to calm you down. You’ve made plans and shared techniques on how to do this. 

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐥  

𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

I ship you with Druig! I just think he would completely understand you. He has darker thoughts about humanity (because of what he’s seen), and you give him hope. Your thoughts, your dreams, your hobbies. He understands humanity more because of you. 

𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠

・He would love to show you the best books, and make Phastos create the best technology so that you could draw/create with even better utensils. 

・Druig loves just being around you. You’re steady aura makes him feel at ease. Which is actually how you feel around him. 

・He doesn’t like the general population, and only goes out when he needs to. He’s rather reserved and stoic, but he does tease you a lot. 

・Druig loves music and would ask about your favourite songs. He’d ask about your playlists, which era you like the most, favourite artists etc. And then he would make a playlist with all the songs that remind him of you. 

・He would lean his forehead against yours a lot; and definitely wants to hold your hand. I honestly think Druig is affectionate but in little ways. Like bumping his arm against yours, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, sitting with your thighs together. 

#ships #ship game #let me ship you #buffy the vampire slayer #stranger things #marvel

[harrisonwilliamson18]

Exceptional Concepts Concerning Pet Cats That Are Easy To Understand

best gifts for cat lovers Cats and people have actually cohabited for centuries. Pet cats have actually located their way right into verse, flicks, musicals and also even more. It's not shock, since cats believe they are the one in charge. This article is packed with tips as well as techniques to boost your partnership with your cat. See to it you have a great animal service provider or basket for delivering your pet cats from one place to the next. A proper carrier or basket need to have sufficient room for them to reverse in comfortably. It needs to likewise be simple to tidy. Make certain that it is lined with a covering, padding, or towel to help it remain comfortable and comfortable for them when traveling. Do not feed your cat any sort of human food which contains bones in it. If you are offering your feline chicken or fish, make sure to remove the bones in advance to avoid a choking hazard. Cut the food that you offer right into tiny little bits to make it much easier to absorb for your pet cat. Participate in pet cat shows for tips regarding your feline. A cat program only sets you back a couple of dollars to participate in. But when you participate in one, you see suppliers marketing cat items, as well as reveal pet dog owners that provide their cats the most effective of whatever. You can get concepts for best brand names to feed your pet cat, along with suggestions for grooming and also looking after your feline. Who says just canines can do methods? Pet cats are really smart and also have the ability to discover too, specifically as young kittens. Some individuals educate their pet cats to play bring similar to pets do. There are also individuals that have effectively educated their feline to utilize a routine bathroom, rather of a can. Cats are pretty low upkeep animals. They do not require as much interest and one-on-one time as pet dogs do. Cleansing the can is one of the most dreaded duties in the residence. Spending in a good self-cleaning can can help to decrease the quantity of times you need to cleanse it out. Locate a trash that your feline takes pleasure in. Different trashes have various scents and also textures, so aid your feline to locate a litter that he is typically comfy with making use of. Pet cats usually like to maintain things the exact same though, so don't experiment frequently or your pet cat may avoid the can. Cats appreciate high areas. To make your feline better, offer him a lookout perch where he can check out the area. You can make use of a cleared shelf if you prefer to not have a cat tree. Putting a soft feline bed on the shelf can aid to include a little convenience. Many cats enjoy to lounge precisely your lap. As comfortable as this can be, it is not constantly convenient. If your feline has a favorite place, such as on your lap at the computer system it can be tough to get points done. Getting a family pet bed for your feline and perching it right beside your chair can aid satisfy your felines require to be near you. Ensure your cat is nabbed and also wears an identification tag. This is necessary, even for indoor cats. Felines tend to be curious as well as open doors and also home windows can be welcoming. Include your vet's info along with your very own on the tags. This is additionally essential if your pet has health issues. If you think your cat has actually sprayed in your home but can not find the area, there is hope. Getting a low-cost black light can conserve you from having to rip up your carpets. Your felines pee will certainly glow under the black light, showing you exactly where to clean up. Many individuals do not recognize that it is flawlessly typical for you to take cats on strolls so they can get workout and fresh air. There are special harnesses made for you to use with your cat. If you make use of the type that were created pets, there is an opportunity your cat can escape. If you're lured to pack up on trash to reduce on cleansings, reconsider. Some people think that the more pet cat trash they utilize, the longer they can go between emptying the can. In fact, this is a waste of your trash! Several felines reject to utilize a litter box with greater than 2 inches of clutter under. Some favor to dig to the bottom of package before doing their service. Kitties need to never be extracted from their mommies prior to they are eight to ten weeks old. During this time around, kittens find out most of their social and also instinctive habits, as well as removing them from the mommy prematurely can create future behavior concerns the mom pet cat could have educated them had they not been eliminated too early. If your cat has actually been scraping points that they must not have, do not assume of declawing them as an excellent way to deal with the concern. While this procedure would stop them from creating any more damage, it is a really painful procedure as well as it is quite difficult to recoup from. The pet cat in your house may assume it possesses the area. By using this guidance, you can aid your cat discover where the genuine manager stays. Felines are fantastic pets to have about; find out more concerning them to ensure that you can enjoy them much more.

#best gifts for cats #best gifts for cat lovers

[sirendeepity]

[ Nessian one-shot ]

A/N: Okay, focus on me for a moment. This one-shot is set right after I Am Because You Are although it's not strictly connected to it. It gives a bit of context, but you don't have to read it to understand what's going on here. BUT, at the same time, this one can also be considered a "prequel" for a one-shot that will be published in a few days and will be part of this year's Nessian week (it's not hard to imagine what both fics are going to be about *pointed cough*). Here's my silly little version on this silly little moment that silly little sjm robbed us of >:c

As always, I hope you'll enjoy it. Kudos <3

Very very big shoutout to @faeriebambula for beta reading this, your comments were just *chef's kiss* perfect

W/C: 2.2k

T/W: --

“Why is it taking them so long?”

Cassian turned his eyes to the owner of the voice, the blonde female draped on his couch. Mor, clad in lacy strawberry red per usual, was already cradling a glass of wine between her golden fingers as they waited before moving to the dining room across the hall.

Indeed, the valkyries were taking their sweet time to join the rest of them. And Cassian was already aching for Nesta’s presence, the feeling of her skin against his—just a hand on the muscle of her thigh, or an arm around her waist was enough to satiate the constant need of her.

Nesta Archeron was consuming him to the bone, turning him into nothing but a brainless heap of muscles and wings. Cassian had only blessings to give her.

Their relationship was beyond the physical: it was a bridge between two souls. Whatever Nesta felt, he felt it too, and the other way around. That’s where the heaviness Cassian felt in his chest came from. The fact that it wasn’t strong enough for him to put a name to the sensation didn’t stop him from worrying all the same. Was she upset? Angry? Was she having a panic attack, that’s why she hasn’t shown up yet?

“I’ll go check it out.” He’d completely zoned out his family, having no idea what the conversation they’d moved to was when he stood. Cassian made it halfway to the door when the knob twisted and the heavy wood panel twisted on its hinges.

“Sorry for being late,” said Emerie, the first to set foot inside the room.

Gwyn, right at her heels, explained, “There was a… Problem.”

“Everything’s alright?” Feyre asked, an apprehensive edge to her voice. A mother to Nyx, a mother to all.

“It has already been solved.”

Finally, the reason his heart was still beating walked in.

Cassian used to think Nesta Archeron in Night Court black was the most beautiful creature he’d ever had the pleasure to see. He was wrong.

His mate wearing red was a dangerous, dangerous thing. Because if Nesta asked him to rip that same heart out of his chest with his bare hands, he would. It belonged to her, anyway.

That’s the part when you start breathing again, brother, Rhysand whispered in his mind.

Fuck off. Cassian shielded his thoughts tightly, not wanting his brother anywhere near them at that moment. There were far too many deprived things he wanted to do to Nesta, with Nesta, for the High Lord to see.

They stood one in front of the other, like statues mirroring each other.

Footsteps scurried on the carpet as the guests walked past their stare-down, snickering.

Emerie patted his shoulder in solidarity on her way out. “Please, don’t take too much time for yourselves. I’m hungry.”

Who told him it was a good idea to invite everyone to the House for dinner? Now Cassian had to kick them out, and they haven’t even touched the food yet.

Emerie would be starving to death by the time he was thoroughly done with Nesta. There would be a place and a time for Cassian to enjoy his mate’s company, but he had a purpose and he wouldn’t celebrate until he reached his goal.

“That won’t be necessary,” he said, placing a hand on the open door to let her out, followed by Nesta, before letting it fall shut behind his back and join his family in the dining room.

Taking a seat at the long table, which the House had already filled with plates and food for every palate, Cassian looked up to a smirking Azriel. He only pretended to scratch his eyebrow with his middle finger, not designing his brother of a proper reaction.

Mother spare him, it was going to be a very long night, and Cassian had to play his cards right if he wanted it to be a very happy one, too.

A couple of hours later, they had moved to one of the many accommodating rooms of the House, bellies full and appetites satisfied. Laughter bloomed around him at something someone—probably Gwyn or Emerie, he could bet on it—said. They had charmed everyone at dinner, capturing the attention of his High Lady the most, who was eager to know as much as she could about the people who brought so much joy in her sister’s life when she failed to do the same. Cassian didn’t need a magical bond to know what shone in Nesta’s eyes: pride, for her chosen sisters. And hope, for her blood ones. The possibility for both of them to coexist, not one above the other.

*******

“It’s getting chilly, isn’t it?” From her spot on the armchair, twisted so that she would face the room while her long legs were thrown on one of the armrests, Gwyn cast her teal eyes on Nesta, huddled close to his side.

Nesta furrowed her brows. “It’s weird the House hasn’t brought you anything yet.”

“Be a good host and bring me one yourself?”

Nesta rolled her eyes but still rose from her seat. There was no denying Gwyn’s puppy eyes. They worked wonders on whoever they landed on, and the priestess quickly turned it to her advantage. That wicked, little thing. Once Nesta was out the door, Cassian turned his gaze back toward his family and caught Emerie’s pointed stare. She casually raised a finger to flick the tip of her nose, before joining in on whatever new story Gwyn had crafted to keep every eye and ear on the two of them.

One, two, three, and Cassian was up and moving. On his way out, Azriel gave him a subtle nod before shifting so that his wings would partly block the view past the doorway.

“Do you need something, too?”

Less than fifteen feet away, Nesta stood with a blanket tucked under an arm, waiting for an answer.

Cassian erased the distance between them and took the folded square from her, abandoning it on a small table nearby, careful not to knock over any decorative trinkets on it.

“I do, actually.”

Leading her away from the echo of their family’s voices, Cassian could feel her perplexity grow with each step.

“What is it?” Nesta spun on her heels to look at him, walking backward until they reached the closest balcony. The sun took longer to fully set, being summer, but Velaris was still Velaris, no matter the season. The last rays of light still tinted the sky, the twilight tones ranging from the richest orange to the deepest purple, a few stars already winking at them from above.

“A surprise.”

“What is it?” She asked again, warily.

“Not a big fan of the unknown, I see.”

“Cassian.”

He laughed, leaning against the red-stoned railing and looking down at his city, lit with fire and merriness.

“If you’re this worried about it, then take it yourself.”

He doubled over a bit more, following the course of the Sidra from its mouth to its source, for as far as his eyes could see. Call him a bastard, but he enjoyed a little bit too much how he managed to leave Nesta Archeron speechless—for better or for worse.

When he turned and put Velaris at his back, Cassian could still see her puzzlement hidden behind narrowed eyes.

“Front left pocket.”

Nesta thought about it for a grand total of two seconds before reaching for him.

“The other left,” he smirked as her hand palmed his thigh from inside the empty pocket.

Nesta glared but did as instructed. Cassian wanted to impress in his memory the way her resolve crumbled, how the steel in her eyes melted to starlight as realization sunk in.

Nesta dropped her eyes to the velvet box laying in her palm, still closed.

“Open it.” His smirk, this time, wouldn’t be enough to hide the wild beating of his heart.

“Cassian, I-”

“Open it, Nesta.”

Swallowing hard, she lifted the lid. A gasp escaped her lips as her cheeks turned a faint shade of red. But not as red as the stone set on top of the silver band, anyway. He had it made in a rush as soon as Nesta was again safe in his arms. It was a simple ring, if only for the diamond-crowned rock big as a thumbnail cut directly from the siphon usually placed above his heart. He would have to find a replacement for it soon enough, but it had mattered little to him at the moment. He wanted proof, a symbol, that spoke louder than all the words he failed to find when he tried to explain what he felt every time their eyes locked and their lips met. What he didn’t want to share with anyone but her.

“What-” Nesta shut the box close, only to open it again a moment later. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Doubt slowly crept up his neck. He knew he had this, he knew she wouldn’t turn him down, but what if- No. No, Nesta loved him. And he loved Nesta, with all his heart. Cassian would not project his own insecurities onto her, onto them.

“It looks pretty simple to me. I am asking you to marry me.”

“Why now?” She asked, forcing her gaze away from the ring. “Our mating ceremony is just a couple of days away.”

A new wave of pride warmed his chest at the reminder. He would be officially mated with Nesta Archeron. There were moments when Cassian found it hard to wrap his mind around this simple yet impossible reality. “It is. So?”

Nesta cast her eyes downward, tracing the oval-shaped outline of the red stone as she murmured, “I thought marriage wasn’t that big of a deal for fae.”

“Not as big as a mating bond, no. But…”

Cassian had always dreamed of it. The connection, the feeling of belonging. He had had five centuries to imagine every possible scenario—when it would happen, how it would happen, who would he be fated with. From the place to the time, he was ready for everything the Cauldron might throw at him. He had had many lovers, some for just a few months while others had stayed for decades. Still, he’d never felt that pull. Never heard a song calling to him, never had his blood roar in answer. So, in the end, Cassian had always let them go—no female ever tempted him enough to give up on that young, foolish dream. To settle down and live his life as it was. Until her. Not a female, but a woman. And out of all the possibilities and outcomes, Nesta Archeron was not one of them. She’d waltzed into his life and took control of his mind. If she were to walk right out, he would lose his sanity altogether. Almost had—when she was too lost in her own grief and he was too much of a coward to do what needed to be done, even if it would’ve tilted the scale and ruined the frail balance that had formed and settled between him and his friends over the years. He had made countless wrong choices in his life, and he would make so many more. One thing he would never regret choosing is her.

He cleared his voice. “But it is a big deal for you.”

Nesta looked up at him then, her eyes effortlessly finding his.

“It might be taking you a while longer to fully embrace being fae, and for all your life it had been drilled into your brain that marriage was the finish line. The way things went down between us, on that bridge… It wasn’t supposed to happen like that. I hurt you, and I am sorry for it. I promised myself I would be better, so please let me.”

Nesta opened her mouth to reply, but Cassian went on before she had the chance to utter a single word.

“It’s not the mating bond, Nesta. It’s me. I want you for you. With all the sharp edges and dark-filled cracks. But also the beauty, the loyalty, the fierceness. Anything that makes you who you are, I love.”

A tear slid down Nesta’s rosy cheek, with more threatening to follow suit. Cassian cradled her face in both his hands, wiping away the wet streak as he ran his thumb over her skin in lazy circles.

“It could only ever be you, Nesta. Mating bond or not, I wouldn’t want to spend the time I have left in this world with anybody else.”

A sniffle and Nesta broke into a smile brighter than the moon. Her throaty laugh filled him from the top of his wings to his toes. If Cassian could live off that sound alone, he would consider himself a very lucky male. Gently taking the box from her hands, he removed the ring nestles inside and held it between their faces.

“Do you?”

“I do.”

He willed the twin stones resting on the back of his hands to flare as power stirred within, and the ring now circling Nesta’s finger lit up as well.

Together. They’d always be together.

#dee writes #Only Ever #nessian #nessian fic #nessian fanfiction #nesta archeron #cassian #nesta x cassian #nesta and cassian

[friendlyneighbourhoodromanian]

I always put a bay leaf in my pot roast with all the other spices, but idk what it does. I also reuse the leaf about 3 times. We've always had them but never the purpose

.......... what do you mean you “re-use” it............... i don’t think you’re supposed to do that

#also like... if necessary rip it up a bit and then put it in food #ask #anon #but how do you reuse it. i can't get over that

[phoenixyfriend]

OKAY so on the topic of Star Wars takes wrt “character ends up in an A/B/O universe where they’re an omega, but they were previously a cis male in their canon”

@atagotiak and I had some Thoughts on discord

So, obviously, Anakin would make a good omega and he’s also incredibly murdery. Foregone conclusion that we're using him for this.

There is no preexisting Anakin in the Omegaverse. He shows up JUST as the war is starting. Canon timeline is in the third year of the war (he’s 22), but whatever dumped him into omegaverse also tossed him back a few years. No de-aging, just a bit of mismatched timeline stuff.

He's... really good at war, and clearly a Jedi, so the Temple just kind of goes "WELL OKAY THEN, SURE, YOU'RE IN, EVERYONE PRETEND HE'S BEEN HERE THE WHOLE TIME." The Jedi, by and large, don't care about omegaverse dynamics beyond 'what do you need, medically, to be happy and healthy' and 'what do you need to be aware of so you can be prepared for biases you encounter in the field?’

None of the civilian natborns (mainly politicians) want to put him on the field because of those biases. Anakin, being Anakin, is VERY blatantly an omega in scent, has never been on suppressants (because it wasn't a thing he fucking NEEDED), is incredibly emotional as a person, loves kids, etc.

Like, nobody wants an omega fighting a war anyway, but THIS one is like PINNACLE omega, and those awful Jedi are making him FIGHT just because he's good at stab!

The Jedi: Actually, it's because he's got several years of war experience that we don't, and he's a good tactician that works well with the clones-- Coruscant: You MONSTERS The Jedi: Look, we gave him the option to not stab and he looked absolutely devastated. Anakin, several days earlier: You don’t want me? I’m not good enough??? Jedi: Also he can beat up at least half the temple.

He doesn't know a damn thing about dynamics, but he DOES know that sometimes he's so horny he wants to stab HARDER. The clones are largely disinterested in their generals' dynamics because between mostly-Mando* trainers and no-dynamic Kaminoans, they only really care if a person can shoot.

* Mandalore approves of Fighty Omegas. As far as (traditional) Mandalore is concerned, you want an omega that will kill the threats to your children as well as you do.

Anakin: You know more about being an omega than I do. Rex: ...I'm an alpha. Anakin: Yeah. Let that one sink in a bit.

We have two options for Obi-Wan!

Omegaverse local Obi-Wan (beta) has never met this man before, and is very unnerved that the immediate default reaction Anakin has to his presence is releasing Family pheromones as if Obi-Wan is his DAD and like. This strange, too-tall man from another dimension has got absolutely NO control over what he projects in the Force OR in his dynamic.

Obi-Wan was ALSO transplanted from canon to omegaverse, and is also an omega, for contrast reasons. He is nice and friendly and and likes poetry and that sort of thing... but also he has the highest dismemberment count in the movies. Also he doesn’t prioritize romance.

We went with the second one because it's hilarious.

Someone watching them spar: Wow, omegas from that universe are terrifying.

As previously mentioned, now with some tweaking to account for both: Obi-Wan and Anakin just straight up don't exist until they drop headfirst into the council room, already covered in blood. (It's mostly not theirs.)

Nobody realizes either one is an omega until they "naturalize" to this dimension and Anakin goes into heat... and doesn't realize it, actually, because his primary symptom is heightened protectiveness and aggression. Everyone else with the right nose realizes, because the man has no control over his pheromone production, but Anakin? No. He just stabs. He’s angry and horny and he will cut someone.

Ahsoka has no reaction to human pheromones but basically everyone smells Anakin's "my child!" reaction to her, so... Cool. Have a padawan, we guess.

Anakin ends up sparring a lot with Aayla and Ahsoka, because only humans and near humans have dynamics, so these two don't REACT to the pheromones situation.

(Palpatine is a Kindly Old Beta who tries to treat Anakin the way he EXPECTS Anakin wants to be treated, which is. Not. Accurate.)

(Anakin hates it.)

I'm just so in love with "An omega can't fight." "You wanna fuckin' bet?"

There are plenty of omega Jedi, by the way, it's just... most of them can keep it relatively low-key instead of Anakin's jet-engine broadcast. Some, if they're known to be omega, probably take advantage of being underestimated, like Obi-Wan probably (and especially a version of Obi-Wan that was always an omega, unlike this version). They have a very different way of presenting themselves than Anakin, who's not subtle about being an omega and also not subtle about being all aggressive and stabby.

At one point, Anakin has to protect some Very Traditional Individuals who get all "Stay back, Omega, it's not safe!" and he's just... so tired of this shit. “You are squishy civilians and I'm a trained Jedi Knight and accomplished GAR General who's killed more people in one sitting than there are in this entire palace. Sit the fuck down and let me do my job.”

It starts making the rounds that Anakin insisted on fighting in person, and the rumors shift from "how dare the Jedi force an omega to fight" and over into things that are deeply hurtful in-universe in the vein of "broken omega" and some people try to say it to his face but like...

He didn't grow up here.

He doesn't care.

Say that to one of his friends and he's going to rip out your spleen, probably, but say it to him and he's just staring at you flatly and asking if that's a negative on getting away from the encroaching battle droids, sir?

"You're rather unpleasant for an omega, aren't you?" [deeply offensive] "I literally could not give less of a fuck about your opinion. Move."

It's not that there aren't omegas that act like Anakin, either, it's just that most of them aren't, you know, Jedi who regularly interact with the upper crust, or capable of his level of destruction. Unbeknownst to Anakin, everyone clocks him as Outer Rim based on his behavior, well before his accent gives him away, and certainly before he mentions he's from Tatooine, because Core Omegas Don't Act Like That.

Someone they meet in a more diplomatic setting says something decently passive-aggressive about how at least Obi-Wan acts more like how an Omega should. Then a battle breaks out for some reason, and... well. Anakin and Obi-Wan cause such a scandal by keeping score of kills in a battle, don’t you know?

Turns out sending Anakin to fight Ventress is great because she keeps expecting him to react a certain way but NO he's here to STAB.

I like the idea that Obi-Wan's favorite opponent these days is Grievous because the cyborg doesn't have a nose, and thus gives zero fucks about dynamics or heats. Dooku is a rich old man who has opinions heavily influenced by Sith Juice Making Him More of a Dick, and the Dathomiri can smell dynamics even if they don't have them, and so they have biases about those things. Meanwhile, Grievous is just there to Kill, and Obi-Wan genuinely appreciates the lack of commentary on his dynamic.

Dooku’s probably an alpha, or a beta who's used the whole "we are more level-headed" thing as one of several angles to keep himself the public face and supreme commander of the CIS.

On to more fluffy things that have less to do with political biases.

There's a lot of "I'm upset that my loved ones don't know me," but also please understand the appeal of Obi-Wan marching up to Quinlan like "Yes, hello, I understand you've been read in on the full situation behind myself and my former padawan. I was close friends with your alternate universe self, which I feel is necessary disclosure before I propose the following: Would you like to join me for my upcoming heat, as I have minimal experience with the dynamics situation and even fewer people I actually trust, and I believe I can put my faith in you to treat it as casually as necessary while still having control and respect for my person."

(The Team is in a fairly safe place to process stuff, but having sudden unexpected changes to your biology has gotta be a little traumatizing, on top of ending up in a universe where none of your friends know you and people have a whole host of unfamiliar forms of sexism to point at you.)

Obi-Wan, who wasn't quite touch-averse but was much more easily overwhelmed by physical contact than Anakin (who craved it), suddenly finds his body switching gears and insisting on cuddles with Trusted Loved Ones, which is.... mostly Anakin, on account of nobody else really knowing him yet. Also Ahsoka, who is aware that she's something of a replacement for her alt-universe self, but Anakin explained it as "I love you so much no matter which dimension I'm in or what you're like, and I'd like to get to know you the way I got know her."

(It's rather eloquent for Anakin. He got Obi-Wan to help him draft up the script for when he pitched taking on omegaverse Ahsoka as a padawan.)

Anakin gets a more intensely sexual heat than 'usual' at one point for Reasons (IDK it could be as innocuous as 'we got better food than the usual rations and my body is reacting to the higher fat content with the belief that it's safer to have a baby now'), which nobody takes a whole lot of notice of because they're in a WAR, and also this is only his fourth one so it's not like he's got a lot to compare it to... except then the predominantly alpha clones can't stop themselves from reacting to the pheromones, mostly by wandering past his door and asking if he needs anything, offering up alpha-scented blankets and stuff for the nest to soothe the hormones, bringing snacks and electrolyte drinks, and like, Anakin is flattered, really, but fuck off please.

(He got a warning from medical a few hours before it hit that it would be different, so he actually does have alpha-scented fabrics to help him out. Apparently that's a thing you can just ask friends for, so he asked Rex if he had anything on hand that he could spare. He now has one of Rex’s recently-used sheets and a bodyglove in the nest.)

(Anakin has no idea how to feel about the nesting instinct, but at least it’s warm.)

Tia asked "Oh hey, who has the scared and horny reaction to his carnage?" and like.

Listen. I'm not saying I've been low-key imagining this as Rex being a very subby alpha who's really into Anakin's whole Thing but...

At one point Anakin gets injured in a way that requires painkillers and he ends up whining to the point of almost crying about the fact that nobody is cuddling him right now in medbay and Kix just gives up and comms Ahsoka to come hug her weird older brother.

And Then There Is Purring.

That’s a Thing Now.

Rex ends up in the pile somehow. He came over to check on Things and ended up yanked in by half-asleep, half-high Anakin, who has a grip like an octopus and no impulse control and is purring like a pod motor while NUZZLING HIM.

There’s a lot of blackmail photos featuring Rex’s very intense blush as he’s cuddled by his commander (giggling at him) and general (clinging like a tooka and rubbing himself all over).

Anakin is deeply offended that ANYONE thinks he'd want to get pregnant by just any old person, NO he needs to fall in LOVE there needs to be EMOTIONAL DRAMA and if Padme won't have him (apparently she's in a relationship and no he's not BITTER) then he'll find someone else to have a whirlwind romance with!

People think Anakin's a slut because he can't control his pheromone production (he has NO practice and for health reasons he can't go on suppressants) so he always smells open and ready for flirtations, which Obi-Wan also has to a somewhat lesser degree (he's older so his body just naturally produces less), and then someone tries to cross a boundary and grabs his ass and ANYWAY Anakin has to now fill out an incident report for breaking a civilian's arm.

Again.

#Anakin Skywalker #Obi Wan Kenobi #Ahsoka Tano #Captain Rex #Rexwalker #Quinlan Vos #star wars #the clone wars #time travel #omegaverse #alpha beta omega #phoenix posts

[levisblackbabe]

Headcanons of Aot boys with a black gf

Characters: Eren Jeager , Armin Arlert, Levi Ackerman, Connie Springer and Jean Kirstein x fem black reader (separate)

Genre: Mostly fluff, slight angst, deffo crack, (everyone is +18)

Warnings: Language, a bit toxic, slightly suggestive

Wc: 1500+ (Each character is about 300-400 words)

Eren Jeager (The lowkey Toxic one)

· Lowkey scared of y/n because she reminds him of Levi when she is angry, and he knows she will beat his ass if necessary

· Started out as friends but he has always liked y/n

· He initially asked you out as a dare and you only found out after 6 weeks where you broke up 😐

· This legit started the cycle of breaking and getting back together (he never cheated though just a lil bit toxic)

· He is very possessive and controlling which also lead to your break ups

· Even though you have your ups and down he is mostly a good boyfriend

· He plays basketball so every time he is practising on his own, he asks you to be there for rebounds (in reality he just wants you near him baso 24/7)

· Loves your smell so he steals those items might be your lotion, hair products or perfume

· Loves your natural hair and just touches it without permission after a couple times you just gave up telling him off

· He was confused on why you changed your hair so often

· When you guys first started dating you came with box braids rather then your usual bun and he deadass thought you were somebody else 💀he was so confused on why this stranger was touching him up (this mf loyal cuz he was ready to punch you)

· He was soooo scared of meeting your parents (had to call Armin to ask for advice)

· Your family at first didn’t like him cuz of the constant breaking up but they grew to tolerate him (however your older brother doesn’t)

· Loves taking pictures of you during facetime, golden hour or whenever and saves them in a folder (simp)

· Loves your cooking soo much that he goes collect tubber ware of food worth a week and stocks up his fridge

· He loves when you speak to him in another language so he pisses you off so you can cuss him out in your native tongue

· He barely calls your name its either babe or some cringey name like bubbs or something (however if you hear your full name leave his month rip)

Armin Artlet (The simp)

· SHY BAE that’s it

· He was your English tutor and has always had a crush on you

· He wanted to ask you out on a date, but he shy and thought you won’t like white boys

· You asked him instead cuz you fell for his ocean blue eyes (I mean who wouldn’t)

· In the beginning you had to take the initiative a lot cuz he wanted to respect your boundaries but after a while he grew comfortable and took the lead

· He LOVES your natural hair and knows your wash day schedule, so he always offers to help anyway possible

· He was absolutely scared of meeting your family cuz once again he white 😐 however everyone loved him

· He most definitely invited to the family reunion

· Your aunts adore him and they always talking about you as a baby to him

· He always doing late night ft calls with you, and he WON’T hang up cuz he wants to see your face when you wake up

· Armin is a giver, so he always offers to buy thigs for your and just buy gifts at least once a week

· He also loves cooking for and with you (once you had a cooking competition and technically, he is a better cook, but he let you win)

· He likes sending random pictures of things you like and remind him of you

· He happily takes pictures of you (photographer Armin)

· You guys have a pet turtle called Mickey 🐢

· His nicknames for you are beautiful, pretty and stuff like that

· Just overall fluff

Levi Ackerman (the co-worker)

· You guys have been co-workers for 2 years actually

· You thought he hated you but in reality, he does he just acts stingy towards cuz he is Levi 😐 (some serious enemies to lovers vibe)

· He didn’t confess and never would have but due to a drunken Hange letting it slip during a hang out with your co-workers you found out

· He deadass ignored you for a week like if he saw you, he would turn into Houdini and disappear

· However, you once caught him distracted and forced him to talk to you

· Reluctantly so he spoke the truth and asked you out (thought he seemed angry about it)

· Now you guys have happily been dating

· Everyone in your office finds you lucky cuz Levi is the finest man in the office heck the world (if he was real, I would leave my bf 😭)

· He actually has a 5-year-old daughter (DILF! Levi) and told you why he never said anything about his feeling was because you know single dad and shiz

· After 6 weeks you met his babygirl and she is the cutest she loves you considering she never had much of a mother figure in her life

· His daughter is mixed so he knows how to deal with natural hair thanks to YouTube, so he sometimes helps with yours (such a good dad)

· But now that you are here you offer to do any protective styles and give him tips

· Levi isn’t very open, but he expresses his love to you with physical touch, acts of service or gifts

· However, he speaks very softly to his daughter he seems different

· Due to his love language being touch he loves petting your hair (only when you have protective styles) and putting his head on it ( he is tall in my head okay)

· He loves having you in close proximity to you and just somehow touching you

· Him and your dad really hit it off because they both have daughters

· Your aunts are lowkey infatuated with him

· Loves making breakfast for you but due to your busy schedule he just buys your coffee in the morning

· He will never tell you, but he has trouble falling asleep but when you sleepover he actually has a full nights rest (he has silk sheets just for you)

· He might seem closed off, but you know he loves you due to the little things

Connie Springer (the bestfriend)

a/n I just want to say Connie will be of Hispanic heritage for the sake of this headcanon also because all the fanfics I read about him he is portrayed as Hispanic I just write him like this however this isn’t to offend anyone or play onto stereotypes.

· You guys have been besties since freshman year high school

· You hooked up freshman year of college and been dating ever since

· Nothing really changed in your dynamic other than the fact yall kiss and do the deed

· Like you legit call each other insults though Connie likes calling slime and bubbs

· You jokingly calling each other baby mama and baby daddy (manifesting kids but whatever)

· Speaking of kids, you have plushies that you call kids and rotate them around (they are from your arcade date)

· Loves being on call with you when he is playing because it helps calm him down and not break his tv (anger issues much)

· HYPEMAN if you are looking fine asf he will hype you up so much and offer to take pictures for the gram

· You have a joint TikTok account where you reaching 10k and just do dumb couple stuff its cringey but cute (Same goes for your joint spam account where you guys just do silly things together)

· He always asks to do your hair which you repetitively deny keeping in mind last time you let him he nearly ripped off half your scalp

· Late nights drives happen a lot so you can vent and have a heart to heart under the stars, you guys also just vibe to the music and might spend hours in silence looking at the city lights and dancing

· If you fall asleep on him or in the drive back he becomes really cute and soft and just says you are beautiful and that he loves you in Spanish (ugh my heart)

· He only speaks Spanish when he wants to be cute and knows you won’t understand

· Your family have always liked him so when you guys started dating everyone was like ‘FINALLY’ (same with his family)

· Some type of kid’s movie marathon once a month cuz being a child is great

· Its just overall jokes

Jean Kirstein (Mr Doesn’t Give Up)

· Kept asking you out for a year until you gave in, he was so excited he kissed you straightaway

· He was so nervous in your first date, but he was a gentleman opening doors etc (whoever said chivalry was dead 🤨)

· Nearly said I love you on the first date considering he has liked you for a year, but he held it in

· However, he did get a kiss goodnight on the cheek (he was grinning like a fool)

· Loves the fact that you change your hair so much and so often that he happily gives recommendations and offers to help you out

· He is the overprotective type of boyfriend so he was reluctant on you meeting his friends especially Eren, but you reassured him that you wouldn’t be swayed (still icky about you hanging with Eren though)

· He adores playing pc games with you and you have a little family in Sims4 which is cute

· He now has a skincare routine because you introduced him to it (he said he didn’t need one cuz he has a ‘handsome face’ but he secretly started one lol

· He also steals your body lotion and legit smells like you (smh)

· His wrist always has a silk crunchie in case you need it, and, in his car, he has a bag with essentials for you such as pads, edge control, etc

· He calls you cute pet names but also the occasional insults as a joke

· He is lowkey rich, so he happily spoils you to fancy dinners and more

· He also likes going back to the basics so picnic dates in the spring and summer are common he says he cooks them but in reality, it’s his mum

· Your mum absolutely adores him cuz he is a ‘charmer’

· He likes facetiming you when he is working out so he can show up, but you just ignore him and continue doing what you are doing

· Like Eren he has a folder filled of mugs of you

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#eren yeager x black reader #jean x black!reader #eren yaeger x reader #armin x black reader #connie x black reader #levi x black reader #aot fanfiction #aot headcanons #aot imagines #eren jaeger #levi ackerman #angst prompts🥀 #fluff prompts 🍄 #levisbae 💅🏽

[bestiesenpai]

I be having some interesting conversations sometimes lol also this my first time writing for Naoya Zenin, he’s probably a little OOC but what do you want me to do about it? femme reader

TW: noncon, (one) slap on the face, a touch of misogyny but that’s to be expected with wonderful Naoya :)

Walking around the Zenin estate always felt like you were being hunted. Darting around corners, hiding in forgotten closets, pressing yourself against the walls of desolate hallways - all to stay away from him.

Your official role in the estate was a housecleaner, a simple maid that got bossed around and was generally meant to go ignored and unseen by the people that actually lived here. Yet for some reason, the future head of the Zenin clan had formed quite an attachment to you.

“(Y/N)!” Naoya called your name curtly from down the hall. He must have sensed you were nearby and wanted to play with you. Holding your breath, you waited to see if you could hear his footsteps approaching. When none came, you turned the opposite direction to the sound of his voice and ran away.

There were many times you’d tried to quit, tried to run away and hide from him, but they never worked. Whatever Naoya wanted, he got. You weren’t allowed to quit, he paid you far too much money and he made sure you wouldn’t be able to hide anywhere, he had people just waiting to search for you should you try to give him the slip.

You were right in feeling like every second spent at the estate felt like being hunted for sport, because you were.

When you didn’t immediately reply to Naoya, you knew your fate was sealed. In truth it would probably be better to just go to him outright and see what he wanted, but you couldn’t help but prolong the inevitable; you couldn’t willingly give yourself away to a predator such as him.

Ducking around a corner, you could faintly hear the shoji screen slide open and his footstep crossing the threshold. He was no doubt leaning over into the hallway to see where you were.

The first empty room you saw, you went into. It was one of the Zenin families personal libraries, absolutely full of so many books that it would take at least two lifetimes to read them all, and even more to fully comprehend them.

Hiding behind a large tufted armchair, you held your breath and tried to listen as closely as you could for any approaching footsteps. Slapping a hand over your mouth to further silence yourself, you squeezed your eyes shut and prayed for the best.

“Hiding from me won’t do you any good.” Naoya’s voice sounded right above you and a spike of fear shot down your spine. Throwing yourself away from his voice, you looked up in horror at the man standing above you in his pristine yukata.

Naoya laughed at your horrified expression and the way you tried to shoot up and run away from the room. His hand caught your wrist, yanking you back to him with an ease that scared you even more.

“Stop running away (Y/N).” His voice was too casual for the way he pressed you into his chest, grabbed your throat and pulled your head back. “You know I don’t like to play with my food.”

“Zenin-sama, please.” There were already tears brimming at your lashes, getting bigger and threatening to fall as Naoya tightened his grip around your throat. Squirming against him, you clenched your eyes closed and let out a little hiccup as the tip of his tongue connected with your cheek.

“I thought I taught you that when I call your name, you’re to run to me with your tits out and mouth open ready to suck me off?” Naoya pressed his lips right against your ear and pressed his fingers into your pulse.

“Z-zenin-”

“And didn’t I also teach you that when a man is speaking you’re to be silent?” Completely closing off your airway, Naoya chuckled into your ear as you desperately clawed at his hand. When your arms turned slack, he let you go, let you sputter and cough back to life in his hold.

His free hand immediately went to work, yanking down the collar of the yukata he put you in. Naoya had made a rule early on that you could only wear the clothes he gave you, and most of the time it consisted of nothing at all or skimpy lingerie. He’d taken all the clothes you had brought with you to the estate and picked through them, only giving back a handful of necessary undergarments.

Shoving the fabric down your shoulders, he was close to tearing the whole thing to shreds. You didn’t have a bra on underneath, he’d taken all of them as part of your punishment for running away last time.

“What a fucking whore.” Naoya tsked upon seeing your unobstructed breasts, nipples pebbling under the sudden cool air. Once your yukata was fully gathered around your waist, Naoya slapped a hand onto one of your breasts and pulled you against him.

“Stop...” You whimpered, craning your head away as he nudged it with his nose. Naoya ignored your pathetic cries in favor of swiping his tongue across your neck, coating it in his saliva before biting down. “Zenin-sama!” Your body jerked in response, your back arching hard to try and get away.

You could feel his hard on through his yukata, pushing strongly against the curve of your ass. Naoya sucked on your neck, digging his teeth in further and letting drool drip down the front of your chest.

His hand was hard at work as well, fondling your breasts far too roughly and pinching your nipple between his fingers. The tears that were at your lashes were now falling in a gentle stream down your cheeks, dripping right onto his hand.

“Stop your pathetic crying, filthy slut.” Naoya barked, ripping his hand away from your chest and slapping you across the cheek. “You should be grateful I’m using you like this instead of keeping you as some no name maid.”

You tried to stem your crying, you really did, but the stinging burn on your face coupled with his harsh words and even harsher treatment of your body weren’t making it easy. Looking up at the ceiling, you sniffled hard and let out a short shout when he bit your shoulder abruptly.

“Zenin-sama...please let me go...” You’d given up physically struggling, only gripping his sleeve pathetically with your free hand. The whole side of your neck and top of your shoulder were covered in his teeth marks and blooming hickies he’d be sure to touch up later.

“Shut the fuck up.” He sighed, holding you still so he could grind against your ass. “Shut up and take what I give you.” Groaning low in his throat, Naoya dropped his head and thrust into your ass, tightening the grip on your wrist as he rut into you.

The push he gave you was abrupt, and you were face down on the floor in seconds. The hardwood scraped across your chest and face painfully but there wasn’t any time to hobble up to your feet as Naoya dragged your hips up and forced your ass in the air.

“Zenin-sama!” Your feet beat against the floor as he pushed and pulled the bottom of your yukata up to bunch at your hips, exposing your naked lower half to the room. When Naoya took your clothes away, he also took away your underwear.

“God you’re fucking loud.” He sounded properly annoyed as he spread your asscheeks apart with his hands. Looking over your shoulder, you could see him gather saliva in his mouth and spit right on your asshole, biting his lip as you clenched around nothing.

“Better put on a show for me then, you little bitch.” Landing a hard smack on your ass, Naoya begins to adjust the front of his yukata, pulling his cock out from the confines of the fabric. Pumping it once, twice, he presses it to your asshole. “Put on a nice show while I take what's mine and maybe I won’t put a shock collar on you like last time.”

#zenin naoya #naoya x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #tw: noncon

[witchy-jadda]

rott spoilers ahead

so i’ve given myself some time to think about everything and try to process it all and here are some of my thoughts on trollhunters: rise of the titans...

- straight off the bat, i loved the intro. opening with blinky telling the story of what happened up until this point was incredible. i would have loved if they had circled back to this though (i saw someone else say it should have been him telling the story to jim and claire’s kids and i loved that idea!)

- i also liked that they didn’t waste time at the start, instead they just jumped right into the action which was fun.

- honestly, i thought jim’s plotline throughout the movie where he basically thought he was useless without the amulet was just really not fun to watch. i understand why it was there and it played into the climax but i really did not find it one bit necessary seeing as i felt that we have grown beyond that. i felt it was overused. we’ve been there before and jim is aware that he’s the trollhunter, amulet or not.

- douxie being so soft with nari was genuinely one of the most heartwarming parts of the movie. i feel that we were really robbed of so much potential with douxie in this movie though. we didn’t see nearly enough of him. it seemed that the writers were picking and choosing when to remember how powerful he is. switching with nari and connecting to her are two examples of when they actually used his power, but aside from that they just disregarded it a lot.

- and speaking of forgetting how powerful people are... i’m genuinely so hurt and let down over what they did to claire. do they not realise how powerful she is? did they just forget about her character arc? it sure felt like it. she got to use her powers a few times (connecting to nari, portalling the titan, etc) but mostly it felt like she was saying she was spent and therefore unable to do anything. she is so strong and so powerful, and that’s just so empowering - especially for young girls. and then it kinda felt to me that rott was reducing her to basically nothing more than jim’s love interest.

- okay another quick note, it kinda felt to me that krel’s potential was also pretty wasted? he barely did anything and i just think he deserved more too.

- ew okay i don’t even want to think about it but i know i can’t discuss rott without talking about the mpreg thing. seriously, what the fuck was that? at first, i thought it was going to be a joke. i thought aja and krel were gonna wind steve up and see how far they could go with making him think he was pregnant just for a little bit of comic relief. but then he was actually pregnant. and so i laughed, because even though it was dumb it was kind of funny. weird and unexpected, but kind of funny. but by the time the movie was over it just didn’t sit right with me. looking past the fact that it was just more of them making steve’s character into a joke, i couldn’t see the logic in giving so much time to that subplot when other characters (claire, douxie) and other relationships (claire and douxie’s friendship) were sidelined. maybe if he had gotten a whole season the mpreg thing could have been included as comic relief or whatever, but with such limited time i really don’t see the point of wasting so much time on something so pointless. 

- speaking of steve, i need to talk about creepslayerz... they really deserved more :( like i get that eli literally helped steve through child birth and then named one after him which was lowkey adorable but i loved their friendship so much and i was really hoping to see more of them. i was kind of hoping they’d get to do more as well. look i gave up on hopes of a romance long ago (even though i still really wished it would happen) but i hoped that at least we’d see some more of their friendship.

* by this point my brain has decided to forget absolutely every point i wanted to make... cue the brain fog (we don’t like her) and allow me to take a moment to read back and try to find my point again *

- i don’t think i can stress enough how much i loved the visuals in this movie. holy fucking shit it was just phenomenal. like wow. the art was absolutely fantastic and i’m really hoping for another the art of... book because i love the art of trollhunters and i feel that they could do with updating it to include the newer stuff. but yep, the animation quality was incredible and i don’t have a bad thing to say about it because just wow.

- speaking of art... a moment of appreciation for character designs. just wow wow wow. we love to see such intricately designed villains. we love to see growth in our other much loved characters. and the locations too? fantastic. beautiful. amazing. loved it.

- another moment of appreciation for jim. the hair. the scars. the injuries. the winter jacket. the fact that he looked a little older.... loved it. loved it, loved it, loved it. i cannot wait to spend hours pouring over reference pictures to draw them all.

- and claire... her armor being weathered and worn. her eyes!! her hair looked great as always. i just love her...

- nari nari nari... my goodness, her magic is so beautiful. i wish we got to see more.

- also, the jlaire moments were very cute. their kisses? so soft. they literally love each other so much. i adore them.

- what happened to the babies from the darklands btw? is not enrique just chilling in the lake’s house with a ton of babies? 

- barbara deserved better. i would have liked to see her and strickler happy.

- on that note, why the actual fuck did they think a few explosives would win against magic?? literal ancient magic and these dumbasses were like huh i guess we should blow it up. i’m sorry, what?? y’all are stupid.

* currently trying to think of every possible point that isn’t to do with the ending because i really don’t want to think about that yet *

- the whole thing with archie and charlemagne felt super unnecessary. like usually characters sacrifice themselves and it’s like sad and you can see the reasoning and stuff. but they literally could have gotten out. i really did not vibe with that. it felt like they just did that to leave douxie with no one.

- that trollmarket was beautiful though.

- speaking of trollmarket... they really restored the heartstone just like that? are you joking? i was not impressed at all. the heartstone was dead and gone, could not be destroyed. did they just forget that? half the shit in wizards wouldn’t have happened if the heartstone could have been restored. very pissed off by that. it was dead, that was it.

- okay back to jim... love that he pulled the sword from the stone. it was cute that it was a group effort, kinda would have preferred if it was just him but that’s just a me thing. and maybe me and my daylight tattoo are biased here, but excalibur is not half as pretty as daylight.

- not gonna lie, jim yelling come on trollhunters! kinda got me. i was very emotional watching this.

- i think the most in character jim moment of the whole movie was when he dropped excalibur, he didn’t have his armor, he was all alone and he decided to make a fist and fight the wizard/god with literally no weapon or means of defence. i don’t think y’all understand how much i love this dumb self sacrificing selfless boy. i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again, he is literally one of my most favourite characters of all time. i love him with all my heart.

- the armor!! wow wow wow. that was a fucking cool scene. beautiful.

- jim getting stabbed or whatever with that fucking spear thing nearly killed me.

- okay here goes... toby. my sweet toby. jim and toby’s friendship is one of my absolute favourites ever. my goodness. and toby getting in the van and going to save jim was incredible and such a toby thing to do. of course he would think of doing that.

- but like seriously... claire and douxie are so fucking powerful and they were both just like lol i guess we can’t do anything to help jim? i’m sorry what?? don’t tell me that claire wouldn’t go full on black and purple eyes and get herself up their to him. i just... i’m so bothered by the fact that they were sidelined y’all :|

- also, do not seriously try to tell me that aaarrrgghh!!! would let toby go on his own. he would have went with him. he would have followed him.

- literally as jim was falling the first thing that went through my mind was oh aaarrrgghh!!! is gonna run up and catch him.

- and while we’re on the topic of aaarrrgghh!!! why tf did they have such a build up that something was going to happen to either him or blinky for literally no reason? wtf

- aaarrrgghh!!! would not have let toby go alone!!! if he had been there, he would have protected toby, he would have saved him and none of that mess of an ending would have happened.

* ugh here’s the bit i was dreading... the ending *

- first off, i am choosing to ignore it.

- time stone? really? we’re... we’re gonna do this? literally one of the most original things i have ever watched is now - at the literal last possible minute - rip off another movie?? really?? whyyyy???

- i literally cannot express how much i hated it. it was so fucking unnecessary.

- he didn’t need to go back that far!!!

- i’m actually trying to block this out but i suppose i have to at least touch on it. jim would never ever put that burden on to toby. he just wouldn’t. before even looking at all of the other issues with toby getting the amulet, i need to say that. it just wouldn’t happen. he struggled so much with being the trollhunter, he wouldn’t put that on toby. 

- also toby literally never wanted to be the trollhunter?? he never wanted the amulet? he wanted to be a duke and have his war hammer and go on adventures with his best friend and his wingman and eat mexican food.

- okay so um i guess they all just forgot about unbecoming? cool cool cool.

- seriously though, was it not established many times that jim literally had to be trollhunter? and if he wasn’t it would be draal and everything would go to shit? did they just forget about that??

- having jim just decide to give toby the amulet literally takes away from the entire meaning behind jim getting the amulet and becoming the trollhunter. the amulet chose jim. merlin chose him. out of all of the creatures in the world, it had to be jim. he can’t just give that to toby!!

- and as much as i love toby, he would not last a day as trollhunter.

- and that’s not even beginning to mention all that jim erased by not becoming trollhunter. no father son relationship between him and blinky. they didn’t stop steve from picking on eli so no steve redemption and no creepslayerz. is he just going to allow enrique to be taken? toby will not have the same incentive to go into the darklands to save him if that’s the case. strickler will not show any sort of sentiment towards toby either. and then the big one...

- IS THAT FUCKER REALLY GOING TO ALLOW CLAIRE TO NOT GET HER POWERS??? WHAT???

- if jim isn’t trollhunter and the whole thing with enrique doesn’t happen then claire will never get her shadowstaff. let’s be real, strickler probably wouldn’t even need angor rot with toby as trollhunter. somehow i can’t see him making it that far...

- if claire doesn’t have her shadow staff then the whole thing with morgana won’t happen. she won’t destroy the shadow staff and then she will never develop her powers. would jim really rob her of that?

- okay i can’t do anymore, it’s too much for me now...

- i touched on this already in a separate post but i gotta say it again... i did not enjoy the destiny is a gift bit at the end. first of all, jim having toby find the amulet literally takes the meaning of that speech and his destiny away instanty. and second, i just could not stand hearing emile hirsch say the words that belonged to anton yelchin. it was just uncomfortable.

aaand i think i’m done. maybe i’ll have more later but i have a headache now from all of this.

#rott #trollhunters #tales of arcadia #rott spoilers #jim lake jr #claire nuñez #toby domzalski #blinky #aaarrrgh #wizards #toa #douxie #rise of the titans #trollhunters spoilers #trollhunters rise of the titans

[mozak-hh]

Genshin Impact Headcanon:

When they’re horny.

thank you all so much for the genshin matchup requests! The response was so overwhelming I’m beaming. I’ll try getting through as many requests as I can so while you guys wait I’ve decided to write you a little something in appreciation. ^^ I also added my first female character because I was sick of the lack of gender diversity hehe. If you like Jean, pls comment any other fem requests you may have since it really helps out a lot. Don’t be afraid to ask me to write anything either, it’s my job after all! x

Includes: Kaeya, Diluc, Xiao, Jean

Type: Nsfw, you have been warned~

Kaeya:

When is this man not horny?

Perhaps it was the change of wind, or maybe it was the change in your attitude that set Kaeya off. The subtle lift of your skirt, the breeze making the collar of your shirt flow, Kaeya couldn’t resist the temptation of wanting more. He was a man after all. A man who fancied you quite significantly.  How could he resist the primal urge to wrap his arm around you and pull you closer? Your scent was mesmerizing, making it hard to turn away. Suddenly Kaeya found his body had become too warm to stand it. 

Kaeya growled in lustrous frustration. A Bead of sweat dripping from the crown of his head. The damp air of the shower only adding to the sensual heat in his lower abdomen. The hot water covered his broad shoulders and streamed down his toned abdomen, gliding over his hand as he pumped his cock in slow, rhythmic motions. 

Perhaps it was the change in scenery, being away from you for so long that is, which brought Kaeya into this animalistic state. He lifted his head up and jerked his arm faster. Streams of water following the curves of his muscles. He’d already seen you that morning, but his heat had gotten a lot worse. He imagined your small frame pressed against the shower wall, covered by his taller build. Arms captured in his own as he thrusted into you. You squeezing your legs which were wrapped around his waist. Locking him in your tight wet walls.

“f-fuck it..,” Kaeya moaned as he turned to lock away from his throbbing cock. rubbing his callused hands over the soft tip, pumping his hand a few more times before letting out a chocked moan. Cumming all over the wall in front of him, and letting the water wash the rest of the sweat off his body.

Damn. Kaeya sure as hell wouldn’t be spending another night in the shower alone.  

Diluc:

Diluc is a busy man, so its often that he doesn’t have the time to enjoy simple pleasures such as sex. But after weeks after not being able to spend one night with you, he becomes ravenous. 

He becomes rather snappy and short tempered. Not being able to handle any person touching him. This wont interrupt his work performance much, but it’ll make him a lot less polite, often making his staff tend to the bar instead of him. That is, until you see him one late night during his rut. 

You went to his winery to provide him with some necessary information. The maids let you in and told you he was upstairs. Once you began to move slowly towards his bedroom chambers is when you heard the painful grunt. 

You rush to door and open it slightly, peering to see if anyone was hurt. It seems as if time had slowed down completely, your breath hitched. Diluc sat at the corner of his bead, palming the large bulge straining beneath his pants. Half of his buttons on his shirt were undone, leaving his exposed chest gleaming with sweat. He must of had good hearing, as his eyes snapped to the door where his eyes instantly met yours. 

“Oh Fuck.. you look delicious..” Diluc’s eyes scanned your form, licking his lips as he stood from his bed. As soon as you silently shut the door behind you he wrapped his strong arms around your body, letting him hoist you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. 

Diluc becomes a little more loud during sex, perhaps even a bit whiny. All while hugging you so you can’t leave. For the rest of the night, Diluc has to have his cock inside you. Gripping you tightly and fucking you senselessly. He won’t stop until he can’t breathe. 

Jean:

Jean’s another hopeless case, never allowing herself to indulge in such matters. But after getting involved in you, she suddenly finds herself waiting for her day to end, signalling her to go home. For jean, it’s the thought of her face in between your thighs that make her legs feel light beneath her office desk. 

Being under a heavy workload all the time, doesn’t do any good either. Unfortunately for Jean, there is no such thing as a sweet release during her breaks. that is, until you stride into her office, tray in hand. 

After hearing about Jean’s stress this pass week, you decided it would be a perfect chance to bring her lunch. Striding into her office, Jean’s legs start to shake, fire swelling in her stomach. You smile, and place the tray of hot food on her desk. Jean’s mouth waters, but not for the food.

“Oh you poor thing! I couldn’t imagine sitting at this desk all day. I brought some things I thought you might like-” you look down at the plate on the desk, “ I’m hope I didn’t intrude-” 

“Y/N baby~” Jeans huffs under her breath, standing up and pushing her chair abruptly. By the time your eyes snap back up, Jean’s already moved the tray of food, and taps your shoulder from behind you. Turning around, your met with a harsh kiss. Jean’s tongue dominating the inside of your mouth, making your cheeks flush and knees grow weak. You loose your balance, falling down towards the desk. Jean takes this opportunity to rest your head in her hand, gently lowering you down and slamming her other hand on the desk to catch you both before starting to kiss you again. 

You wrap your hands around Jean’s neck, running your hands through the back of her head. You whine as she stands, making her way towards the door and locking it. She turns around after the soft click, and strides back towards you, loosening the buttons on her shirt. 

 Licking her lips, she stands above you. Lightly yanking your shorts.

“Let’s take these off, shall we?”

(Sorry I’m a simp for dom Jean pls send help)

Xiao: 

This guy goes through regular periods of heat, like an animal. Perhaps It’s an adepti thing, but every so often he’ll stop talking to you and shut himself within the walls of the inn. Not even the managers go near him, fearing the unusual scent coming from his chambers. This man wont let himself stop. Only using his time to pleasure himself. 

Somehow in your right mind you decide to check up on him to make sure he was doing alright. Ascending the stairs to the attic you catch the scent of something sweet, mixed with the smell of sweat and Xiao himself. The air begins to grow thick as you reach the door to his room. Turning the knob a few times you find it to be locked from the outside. Panicking, you pound your fist on the door to see if someone had locked him inside.

Xiao smashes his fist through the door, wood splintering and groaning under his force. He rips the handle off clean, allowing himself to bust the door open and pull you inside. Trapping you beneath his body as he Hauls the broken door closed again. Seeling it with special magic.

“I knew you’d come for me~” he purrs, putting his thigh between your legs and caressing your face. Pinned up against the door, you notice Xiao’s ankles bound in thick metal cuffs, the long Chain connected to his bed. There were claw marks on every whole. It truly looked like he tried to destroy the place.

You try to break from his grip, but he blocks you with his arms, kissing you forcibly. His breath is hot, his hands tremble. “Touch me y/n, touch me” he wines, bringing your hand to press on his crotch as he moans into your neck.

Sex with this animalistic beast will be nothing short of desperate. From the minute you allow him to the end of his heat, Xiao will have his throbbing cock inside you. He won’t let you go, hugging you from behind as he pounds into you. Don’t try to run away from him, that’ll just turn him on.

At the end of his heat he’ll probably feel so bad but if you’re ok with it he’ll have you around more often during his heat.

Hope you enjoyed~

#genshin #genshin impact #diluc #genshin impact headcanons #genshin diluc #genshin kaeya #fanfic #genshin x reader #genshin jean #genshin xiao #Xiao #Kaeya #Jean

[kingandfireheart]

Lucien Vanserra Sass Appreciation Post

For more serious Lucien content see my other posts:

What the fuck is happening in the Autumn Court series Part 1 (Eris) and Part 2 (Lady of the Autumn Court)

What stories are left: Lucien

When Lucien introduces himself:

"Lucien," my captor said quietly, the name echoing with a hint of a snarl. "Behave."

Lucien went rigid, but he hopped off the edge of the table and bowed deeply to me. "My apologies, lady." Another joke at my expense. "I'm Lucien. Courtier and emissary." He gestured to me with a flourish. "Your eyes are like stars, and your hair like burnished gold."

When Lucien is intrigued by Feyre:

"Well," Lucien said, his remaining russet eye fixed on me, "you don't look half as bad now. A relief, I suppose, since you're to live with us. Though the tunic isn't as pretty as a dress."

When Lucien wants to know if Feyre thinks he's hot:

"Thank you for the meal," I said. It was all I could think of. "Won't you stay for wine?" Lucien said with sweet venom from where he lounged in his seat. I braced my hands on my chair to rise. "I'm tired. I'd like to sleep." "It's been a few decades since I last saw one of you," Lucien drawled, "but you humans never change, so I don't think I'm wrong in asking why you find our company to be so unpleasant, when surely the men back home aren't much to look at." At the other end of the table, Tamlin gave his emissary a long, warning look. Lucien ignored it. "You're High Fae," I said tightly. "I'd ask why you'd even bother inviting me here at all-or dining with me." Fool-I really should have been killed ten times over already. Lucien said, "True. But indulge me: you're a human woman, and yet you'd rather eat hot coals than sit here longer than necessary. Ignoring this"-he waved a hand at the metal eye and brutal scar on his face-"surely we're not so miserable to look at."

When Feyre leaves their first dinner together:

He gave a distant nod and motioned for me to leave. Dismissed. Like the lowly human I was. Lucien propped his chin on a fist and gave me a lazy half smile. Enough. I got to my feet and backed toward the door. Putting my back to them would have been like walking away from a wolf, sparing my life or no. They said nothing when I slipped out the door. A moment later, Lucien's barking laugh echoed into the halls, followed by a sharp, vicious growl that shut him up.

When Lucien notices Feyre checking him out:

Lucien paused, and I found him smirking at me, making the scar even more brutal. "Were you admiring my sword, or just contemplating killing me, Feyre?"

When Lucien is a sarcastic motherfucker:

“So is this what you do with your lives? Spare humans from the Treaty and have fine meals?” I gave a pointed glance toward Tamlin’s baldric, the warrior’s clothes, Lucien’s sword. Lucien smirked. “We also dance with the spirits under the full moon and snatch human babes from their cradles to replace them with changelings–”

When Lucien describes Amaratha perfectly:

"What happened to the magic to make it act that way?" Lucien let out a harsh laugh. "Something was sent from the shit-holes of Hell," he said, then glanced around and swore. "I shouldn't have said that. If word got back to her-"

When they run into the Boggee:

"I heard its voice in my head. It told me to look." Lucien rolled his shoulders. "Well, thank the Cauldron that you didn't. Cleaning up that mess would have ruined the rest of my day." He gave me a wan smile. I didn't return it.

When he gives Feyre a title:

"Are you a warrior, though?" Would you be able to kill me if it ever came to that? Lucien huffed a laugh. "Not as good as Tam, but I know how to handle my weapons." He patted the hilt of his sword. "Would you like me to teach you how to wield a blade, or do you already know how, oh mighty mortal huntress?

When Lucien just needs someone to spar with:

“Do you ever stop being so serious and dull?" "Do you ever stop being such a prick?" I snapped back. Dead—really, truly, I should have been dead for that. But Lucien grinned at me. "Much better.

When Lucien and Feyre spend quality time together:

Over the next three days, I found myself joining Lucien on Andras's old patrol while Tamlin hunted the grounds for the Bogge, unseen by us. Despite being an occasional bastard, Lucien didn't seem to mind my company, and he did most of the talking, which was fine; it left me to brood over the consequences of firing a single arrow. An arrow. I never fired a single one during those three days we rode along the border. That very morning I'd spied a red doe in a glen and aimed out of instinct, my arrow poised to fly right into her eye as Lucien sneered that she was not a faerie, at least. But I'd stared at her-fat and healthy and content-and then slackened the bow, replaced the arrow in my quiver, and let the doe wander on.

When Lucien diagnoses Faerie problems perfectly:

A brush of ice slithered across my nape. "He would be that brutal?" Lucien studied the wine in his goblet. "You don't hold on to power by being everyone's friend. And among the faeries, lesser and High Fae alike, a firm hand is needed. We're too powerful, and too bored with immortality, to be checked by anything else."

When Lucien is told to Back Off, so he exacts his revenge:

Lucien's russet eye was bright, though the smile he gave me didn't meet it. The face of Tamlin's emissary-more court-trained and calculating than I'd seen him yet. "I'm unavailable today," he said. He jerked his chin to Tamlin. "He'll go with you." Tamlin shot his friend a look of disdain that he took few pains to hide. His usual baldric was armed with more knives than I'd seen before, and their ornate metal handles glinted as he turned to me, his shoulders tight. "Whenever you want to go, just say so." The claws of his free hand slipped back under his skin. No. I almost said it aloud as I turned pleading eyes to Lucien. Lucien merely patted my shoulder as he passed by. "Perhaps tomorrow, human."

When Lucien hides:

"I had to go sort out some hotheads on the northern border-official emissary business," he said, setting down the hunting knife he'd been cleaning, a long, vicious blade. "I got back in time to hear your little spat with Tam, and decided I was safer up here. I'm glad to hear your human heart has warmed to me, though. At least I'm not on the top of your killing list."

When Lucien and Feyre become friends after he tells her how to trap a Suriel:

Another riddle-and another bit of information. I said, "It's a good thing that while you have superior hearing, I possess superior abilities to keep my mouth shut." He snorted as I took the knife from the table and turned to procure the bow from my room. "I think I'm starting to like you-for a murdering human."

When Lucien is day drinking and living his best life:

“Would you like me to grovel with gratitude for bringing me here, High Lord?" "Ah. The Suriel told you nothing important, did it?" That smile of his sparked something bold in my chest. "He also said that you liked being brushed, and if I'm a clever girl, I might train you with treats." Tamlin tipped his head to the sky and roared with laughter. Despite myself, I let out a quiet laugh. "I might die of surprise," Lucien said behind me. "You made a joke, Feyre." I turned to look at him with a cool smile. "You don't want to know what the Suriel said about you." I flicked my brows up, and Lucien lifted his hands in defeat. "I'd pay good money to hear what the Suriel thinks of Lucien," Tamlin said. A cork popped, followed by the sounds of Lucien chugging the bottle's contents and chuckling with a muttered, "Brushed.”

When Lucien is incredibly casual for a guy going to an orgy:

What?”

Lucien laughed. “Yes—all those female faeries around you were females for Tamlin to pick. It’s an honor to be chosen, but it’s his instincts that select her.”

“But you were there—and other male faeries.” My face burned so hot that I began sweating. That was why those three horrible faeries had been there—and they’d thought that just by my presence, I was happy to comply with their plans.

“Ah.” Lucien chuckled. “Well, Tam’s not the only one who gets to perform the rite tonight. Once he makes his choice, we’re free to mingle. Though it’s not the Great Rite, our own dalliances tonight will help the land, too.

When Lucien is the mom friend:

"You look . . . refreshed," Lucien observed with a glance at Tamlin. I shrugged. "Sleep well?" "Like a babe." I smiled as him and took another bite of food, and felt Lucien's eyes travel inexorably to my neck. "What is that bruise?" Lucien demanded. I pointed my fork to Tamlin. "Ask him, he did it." Lucien looked from Tamlin to me and then back again. "Why does Feyre have a bruise on her neck from you?" he asked with no small amount of amusement.

When Lucien loves drama:

"Accountable?" I sputtered, placing my hands flat on the table. "You cornered me in the hall like a wolf with a rabbit!" Lucien propped an arm on the table and covered his mouth with his hand, his russet eye bright. "While I might not have been myself, Lucien and I both told you to stay in your room," Tamlin said, so calmly that I wanted to rip out my hair. I couldn't help it. Didn't even try to fight the red-hot temper that razed my senses. "Faerie pig!" I yelled, and Lucien howled, almost tipping back in his chair. At the sight of Tamlin's growing smile, I left.

When Lucien bolts:

“I had to keep my hands clenched at my sides to avoid wiping my sweaty palms on the skirts of my gown as I reached the dining room, and immediately contemplated bolting upstairs and changing into a tunic and pants. But I knew they’d already heard me, or smelled me, or used whatever heightened senses they had to detect my presence, and since fleeing would only make it worse, I found it in myself to push open the double doors.

Whatever discussion Tamlin and Lucien had been having stopped, and I tried not to look at their wide eyes as I strode to my usual place at the end of the table.

“Well, I’m late for something incredibly important,” Lucien said, and before I could call him on his outright lie or beg him to stay, the fox-masked faerie vanished.

When Feyre goes to a party:

"Cauldron boil me," Lucien whistled as I came down the stairs. "She looks positively Fae." ...

I squared my shoulders, disinclined to let him see how much his words or voice or sheer well-being impacted me. Not yet. "I'm surprised I'm even allowed to participate tonight." "Unfortunately for you and your neck," Lucien countered, "tonight's just a party." "Do you lie awake at night to come up with all your witty replies for the following day?" Lucien winked at me, and Tamlin laughed and offered me his arm. "He's right,"....

"So there's singing and dancing and excessive drinking," Lucien chimed in, falling into step beside me. "And dallying," he added with a wicked grin.

When Lucien plays a prank:

"I also remember you telling me how witchberries were harmless, and the next thing I knew, I was half-delirious and falling all over myself," I said, recalling the afternoon from a few weeks ago. I'd had hallucinations for hours afterward, and Lucien had laughed himself sick-enough so that Tamlin had chucked him into the reflection pool...."

When Feyre gets drunk of Faerie Wine:

“Tam would gut me if he caught you drinking that.”

“Always looking after your best interests,” I said, and pointedly chugged the contents of the glass. It was like a million fireworks exploding inside me, filling my veins with starlight. I laughed aloud, and Lucien groaned.

“Human fool,” he hissed.

But his glamour had been ripped away. His auburn hair burned like hot metal, and his russet eye smoldered like a bottomless forge. That was what I would capture next.

“I’m going to paint you,” I said, and giggled—actually giggled—as the words popped out.

"Cauldron boil and fry me,” he muttered, and I laughed again.”

When Lucien is hungover and third-wheeling:

Lucien kept rubbing at his temples as he ate, unusually silent, and I hid my smile as I asked him, “And where were you last night?” Lucien’s metal eye narrowed on me. “I’ll have you know that while you two were dancing with the spirits, I was stuck on border patrol.” Tamlin gave a pointed cough, and Lucien added, “With some company.” He gave me a sly grin. “Rumor has it you two didn’t come back until after dawn.” I glanced at Tamlin, biting my lip. I’d practically floated into my bedroom that morning. But Tamlin’s gaze now roved my face as if searching for any tinge of regret, of fear. Ridiculous. “You bit my neck on Fire Night,” I said under my breath. “If I can face you after that, a few kisses are nothing.” He braced his forearms on the table as he leaned closer to me. “Nothing?” His eyes flicked to my lips. Lucien shifted in his seat, muttering to the Cauldron to spare him, but I ignored him. “Nothing,” I repeated a bit distantly, watching Tamlin’s mouth move, so keenly aware of every movement he made, resenting the table between us. I could almost feel the warmth of his breath. “Are you sure?” he murmured, intent and hungry enough that I was glad I was sitting. He could have had me right there, on top of that table. I wanted his broad hands running over my bare skin, wanted his teeth scraping against my neck, wanted his mouth all over me. “I’m trying to eat,” Lucien said.”

When Lucien drops one of the best lines in the book:

"I see," I lied, not quite seeing at all. Lucien chuckled, sensing it, and I glared sidelong at him. "You've been noticeably absent again." He used the dagger to clean his nails. "I've been busy. So have you, I take it." "What's that supposed to mean?" I demanded. "If I offer you the moon on a string, will you give me a kiss, too?"

When Lucien doesn't know what is coming in the future:

Downstairs, Lucien snorted at the sight of me. "Those clothes are enough to convince me I never want to enter the human realm." "I'm not sure the human realm would know what to do with you," I said. Lucien's smile was edged, his shoulders tight as he gave a sharp look behind me to where Tam was waiting in front of a gilded carriage. When he turned back, that metal eye narrowed. "I thought you were smarter than this."

When Lucien admires Feyre's attitude:

“Don’t you understand what Rhys is?” “I do!” I barked, then sighed. “I do,” I repeated, and glared at the eye in my palm. “It’s done with. So you needn’t hold to whatever oath you swore to Tamlin to protect me—or feel like you owe me anything for saving you from Amarantha. I would have done it just to wipe the smirk off your brothers’ faces.” Lucien clicked his tongue, but his remaining russet eye shone. “I’m glad to see you didn’t sell your lively human spirit or stubbornness to Rhys.”

When Lucien is a fashionista:

Lucien had gifted both to me—the dagger during the months before Amarantha, the belt in the weeks after her downfall, when I’d carried the dagger, along with many others, everywhere I went. You might as well look good if you’re going to arm yourself to the teeth, he’d said.

When game recognize game

“Cursebreaker,” some murmured. “Blessed,” others whispered.

I made a show of looking surprised—surprised and yet accepting of the Cauldron’s choice. Tamlin’s face was taut with shock, the Hybern royals’ nothing short of baffled.

But I turned to Lucien, my light radiating so brightly that it bounced off his metal eye. A friend beseeching another for help. I reached a hand toward him.

Beyond us, I could feel Ianthe scrambling to regain control, to find some way to spin it.

Perhaps Lucien could, too. For he took my hand, and then knelt upon one knee in the grass, pressing my fingers to his brow.

When Lucien is scared of Amren:

“I think Amren would probably deny that she feels any affection for us—”

“Amren is a bedtime story they told us as younglings to make us behave. Amren was who would drink my blood and carry me to hell if I acted out of line. And yet there she was, acting more like a cranky old aunt than anything.”

“We don’t—we don’t enforce protocol and rank here.”

“Obviously. Rhys lives in a town house, by the Cauldron.” He waved an arm to encompass the city.

When Lucien is a little murderous:

“You’re working with that prick,” Cassian cut in, whatever catching-up now over, apparently. He moved to Mor’s side, a hand on her back. He shook his head at Azriel and Rhys, disgust curling his lip. “You should have spiked Eris’s fucking head to the front gates.”

Azriel only watched them with that icy indifference. But Lucien crossed his arms, leaning against the back of the couch. “I have to agree with Cassian. Eris is a snake.”

When Lucien volunteers to go on a quest:

“You will be going into the human territory,” Rhys warned. “I can’t spare a force to guard you—”

“I don’t need one. I travel faster on my own.” His chin lifted. “I will find her. And if there’s an army to bring back, or at least some way for her own story to sway the human forces … I’ll find a way to do that, too.”

My friends glanced to each other. Mor said, “It will be—very dangerous.”

A half smile curved Lucien’s mouth. “Good. It’d be boring otherwise.

When Lucien makes a friend

“Not for long—not if Vassa has anything to do with it.”

“You sound like an acolyte.”

Lucien blushed, glancing at Elain. “She’s got a foul temper and a fouler mouth.” He cut me a wry look. “You’ll get along just fine.”

#lucien vanserra #sass appreciation #this is 90% acotar #I didn't include ACOFAS or ACOSF because his sass is not as strong #other than calling Rhys and Feyre assholes #kp analysis #acotar series #mtp

[tennessoui]

FeralObi anon here. How do you come up with these so fast?? Are you an infinite number of ideas and worlds in human-shaped form? I love both of those ideas. The first one kills me tho, Obi gets his first kind touch in years from lil Anakin. Also you can have lil Anakin coming home one day with a skulking, snarling nonverbal murder puppy and saying brightly, "He followed me home, can I keep him?" Schmi thinks this is definitely worse than the time he brought a krayt dragon home.

ah! hello! yes this is the first idea of a feral obi-wan who meets anakin when he's still on tatooine. i will also still do the second idea because like. i liked them equally as much rip me

but i told myself these were going to both be very short snippets and instead this one is uh 2k so i'll post the second one tomorrow instead of tonight!

(ficlet where obi-wan is captured by pirates/unspecified forces at a young age and then tortured for a decade before he escapes to tatooine when anakin is like 6. obi-wan, after a decade of torture is....not alright in this fic though he's only here at the end) (2k)

Shmi had known that when she sent her little Anakin away to follow after the stern-faced, warm-eyed Jedi Master, that this would not be the last time she ever saw her boy. She couldn’t explain how she knew, just as she had not been able to explain how she became pregnant, but she knew beyond a doubt that one day, she would see her little boy back in her arms.

She just hadn’t known it would be so soon.

“He died, Master Jinn died,” Anakin mumbles into the front of her dress, unwilling to move his head far back enough from her hug that he could talk clearly. “On Naboo. And the stupid Jedi council refused to train me even after I was so amazing in the air. Mom, I destroyed a blockade! Entirely! And they wouldn’t--they didn’t--” his little face scrunches up and then he’s bawling into his hands.

A slave, a born slave, knows intrinsically the injustice of the galaxy. It is not often they know hope.

“Oh my boy,” she whispers, smoothing a hand over the top of his head. She has questions. She has so many questions about everything he’s just said and what those strangers have put her son through, but the most important thing is a question she cannot wait until he has cried himself out to ask. “Is your chip gone, Ani? Did they remove your transmitter?”

Because she had sent him away from her so that he could be free. And that had been her own twisted version of hope, that her son could know a life she never would again. If the Jedi masters had proven to be just like every other master in the world, she would find herself sobbing into her own hands.

“Yeah,” Anakin sniffles and wipes at his ruddy cheeks, pulling back a few steps. “They removed it and everything. And--”

He pauses and drops his satchel to the ground in front of her. “They gave me credits. To buy you. For my trouble.”

He spits out the last three words like they’re the most disgusting thing in the entire world. As if Shmi’s freedom isn’t laying at their feet, mere centimeters away.

“Republic credits are no good here,” she hears herself say faintly.

“Padme, the handmaiden you met, she talked to the queen about me I guess,” Anakin mumbles, kicking his feet. “And when the queen learned that the Jedi didn’t want me even after all that, Padme says the queen says I’ll always have a place on Naboo. Me and my family. And then she took the Jedi credits and gave me these instead. It should be enough, Mom.”

Shmi sits down on the floor. With shaking hands, she opens the bag and looks inside. Yes. Yes.

There’s more than enough.

There’s enough to buy her freedom and take her boy away from Mos Espa. There’s enough to take her boy away from Tatooine completely.

“I…” she says. “Ani, I…”

“Padme said she’d send a ship for us,” Ani reports as if their lives are not changing right in front of their eyes. “In two days ‘cause I told her it might take a little bit of time to get Ben to come with us. But we can’t leave without him.”

This is said fiercely and with his arms crossed tightly over his little chest.

Shmi stares at him.

“I’ve already left him once!” Anakin says, stomping his foot. “But that was okay, because I knew you would bring him food and water and stuff. But if we’re both gone, no one’s going to be there for him.”

Shmi bites at her lip. There’s a lot of things happening very quickly right now, and she doesn’t know how to process half of them.

Her son has come back, after only being gone for a week and a half.

He has apparently either endeared himself so much to the queen of Naboo that she was willing to give him the money necessary to buy his mother from slavery and also promise him sanctuary on her planet. He says he’s done this by single-handedly ending a blockade, which is something she just cannot even think about right now.

He has told this queen--queen--that he will gladly live on Naboo with his family. Yes. Alright.

His family seems to include his imaginary friend, Ben.

Anakin has been talking about Ben for years now, ever since he was six and a half years old and sent by Watto to retrieve any scraps he could from what looked to be a crashed pod in the Wastelands. She’d let him ramble on about the ghost of a friend, because she’d known it to be something all children go through and experience. She hadn’t thought Anakin a lonely child, not with the friends he made in Mos Espa, but she’d always known that Anakin had a wandering spirit, ill-suited for Tatooine. If he liked to imagine an older man from a strange world hiding in the caves of the Wastes, then she wasn’t going to say anything.

“You have been leaving him food, haven’t you, Mom?” Anakin asks, almost accusatory. “I told him to expect you and everything.”

No. Shmi has not been traveling to the edge of the Wastelands every day during her precious few hours of free time in order to leave food to be picked apart by womp rats and desert critters and not her boy’s imaginary friend.

“Ani,” she says cautiously, quietly, “we cannot...we won’t be able to bring Ben with us when we go.”

Anakin, predictably, does not react well. “Why not!” he yells, backing away from her even further and looking as if she is the enemy. “Padme’s fine with it!”

“Aren’t you a little old for imaginary friends?” Shmi asks desperately, feeling cold suddenly even though the heat of the mid-morning sun has not abated at all.

If anything, her son looks more offended. “He’s not imaginary! Saying...saying that he’s not coming with us...is...is a bunch of poodoo!”

“Anakin!” Shmi gasps.

“Come on,” her boy says forcefully, grabbing at her hand and tugging her towards the door. She gets on her feet reluctantly and has half a mind to pull back just because he needs to learn that this sort of behavior is not okay, war hero or not. “We’re going to buy you from Watto. And then we’re going to go visit Ben!”

---

Buying her freedom takes less time than Shmi Skywalker ever thought it would. It feels distant as well, as if it’s happening to someone else.

It doesn’t help that her Ani is impatient and surly by turn, spilling the coin out onto Watto’s counter and barely waiting for him to finish counting it before he’s looking at the price of renting a four-person speeder parked outside.

“You won’t survive out there on your own,” Watto sneers, even as he’s passing her the kill-switch of her own slave chip. “Days. It’ll be days until the Hutts find out there’s a newly freed slave with no connections out there in the open. Ripe for the pickin’.”

Watto doesn’t have to tell her any of this. She knows. Gods, does she know.

But Anakin seems so sure about possessing the favor of the Queen of Naboo, or at least her handmaiden, which might be close enough to the same thing. She thanks Watto--she thanks him and then doesn’t even know why--and meets Anakin outside.

He’s bouncing around the speeder, little hands clutching his satchel to his chest. “Good!” he says when he sees her, hopping onto the machine and putting the parcel between his feet. “I got Ben something called a fig on Naboo, but I don’t know how long it’ll take for it to go bad. Apparently they’re sweet.”

Shmi goes along with it. Shmi doesn’t know why she goes along with it, but she does. She can see this is important to her boy, and though she’d rather spend the afternoon and early evening saying goodbye to her friends, she will allow Ani to say goodbye to his imaginary friend. Maybe she’ll even talk to it. “Hi, hello, I’m so glad you’ve enjoyed the imaginary blue milk and delicacies I’ve left out for you this past week and half. Oh no, it was no bother. My son insisted.”

The ride is quick--Anakin has always been a driver to push the limits of any engine he comes across--and before she knows it, he’s dismounting on a piece of desert and rock that look exactly the same as the last four pieces of rocky terrain they’ve past.

“Ben!” Ani calls, satchel clutched firmly in his hands as he makes his way deeper into the crevices of the landscape. “Ben, it’s Ani! I’m really sorry that I left! Ben? Ben! I’m back now! Ani’s back!”

It’s actually...quite pathetic, to watch her boy speak so pleadingly to the cold stone faces of the rocks around them, but if this is what he needs to do to say goodbye to his life on Tatooine, Shmi won’t say a word.

“Ben--” Anakin draws in a breath to call again, but then there’s movement out of the corner of Shmi’s eyes, and something jumps from the rock down to land on her boy.

She screams and darts forward, but the thing on top of her son snarls at her in guttural warning.

“No, Ben,” Ani coos, stroking at the face that yes, is human, now that it’s not in unnaturally fast motion. “That’s my mom, Ben.”

Ben--Ben??--growls anyway, pinning the boy--her boy--beneath him with his legs and arms.

“She’s fine,” Ani murmurs gently, one hand reaching up to stoke over the beginnings of a beard on Obi-Wan’s face “Oh Ben, I’m sorry.”

The man on top of Shmi’s child finally looks away from her and at her boy, which is both better and worse.

“Ani,” Ben drawls out, as if the word--or perhaps forming the word--hurts him.

Anakin is happy. Shmi can tell he’s happy without even being able to see much of him. It’s like the very air vibrates with his joy. “Yes!” her son says. “Ani. Ben.” He taps the man’s chest. “Ben. Ani.”

The man buries his head into Anakin’s hair, hands rubbing up and down his sides and his arms and his face.

Shmi needs to say something, wants to say something about this strange man touching boy like he owns him, but the memory of his growl and the flash of his golden eyes stops her from stepping forward.

“Anakin, get away from him,” she hisses instead of stepping forward and tearing the stranger off of her son. She has the distinct feeling Anakin wouldn’t let Ben go anywhere, not with the way his little hands are holding so tight to the man’s shoulders. The man’s shoulders that are covered with one of her old tunics that Anakin had told her became unsalvageable after its last wash.

“No,” Anakin says, tightening his hold on his...friend. “He says you didn’t give him food the entire time I was gone! He’s hungry.”

Shmi thinks there’s a very good possibility that this Ben is going to eat her, but she knows not to say anything of the sort. Not when it’s two against one.

“He hasn’t said anything!” She cries instead.

Anakin huffs at this and pats at the feral’s head. “Maybe not to you, but he talks to me.”

Shmi stares at him and wonders if there’s something she’s supposed to be doing or saying here. The man won’t allow her to tear him off her child, she knows that automatically. But she can’t--she doesn’t know--

“Anakin,” she tries, desperately.

But Anakin doesn’t even look at her, too busy petting over the man, who has at least allowed him to sit up. “Hey, I’m sorry, I thought she would,” he tells him in an undertone. “I really thought she would, but I’m back now. I’m not going anywhere without you again--”

He extends his hand and Ben presses his cheek against it with enough force that it pushes him back slightly.

“You’re coming to Naboo with us, Ben,” Anakin promises, clutching at the ends of the man’s long hair. “Or I’m not going at all.”

To Shmi, it sounds like a threat.

The way her son’s eyes flash an unfamiliar golden color makes her feel cold as a Tatooine night. She shivers, but no one notices.

#asks #feral!obi-wan #cw: torture aftermath #its really quite vague tbh #i wanted to use shmi as a narrator because i never really have before #but that means nothing but shmi's perspective gets shared #i mean obviously #but its defo outside perspective here #but this was fun #im not gonna tag it as obikin because anakin here is nine #but yeah i see them living on naboo and healing together from their traumas #and being the most important person to each other #and eventually when anakin is like 25 maybe even older #they kiss #but that's the story i didnt write lmao

[vagrantblvrd]

Din and Grogu get stuck on a planet somewhere while running from Imperial remnants and ducking New Republic patrols and have a chance meeting with this scruffy hermit.

Well, scruffy-ish?

“Oh, I’m just starting out,” said scruffy-ish hermit says, a little too cheerfully for his chosen career path, but like the man says, he’s new to it.

And Luke, okay.

It’s not so much he set out to be a hermit this early on so much as he’s scouting out potential hermit lodgings and such. And if he’s really going to make a go of it someday (it seems the thing to do) he should check out the neighborhood, so to speak, see how loud it is at night and if there are any trouble neighbors and so on.

Din just looks at what’s left of his cape, this big ragged chick ripped out of it by something that tried to eat him and his kid and is like. “I can think of at least one of your ‘neighbors’ that might fit that description.”

And then shenanigans while Din tries to fix his ship - somehow the hermit gets it out of the bog they crashed into and got it back his his hermit home(TM) while Din and Grogu was asleep.

(When Din asked how he did it, seeing as there doesn’t seem to be the kind of machinery or other rigging necessary to do so, Luke gives him a little smile and a shrug and blatantly changes the subject - “I think your kid’s terrorizing the local frog population again.”- like he thinks Din won’t notice.)

Anyway, montage scenes of Din fixing his ship while Grogu helps by handing him tools and crawling into spaces Din can’t to connect wires and the like.

Luke, meanwhile, is off hermiting in the woods or whatever.

“...what exactly is it you think I do out here?”

Because.

Foraging for food for the three of them - he had some stored and emergency rations and such, but they won’t last long with additional mouths to feed, and also sekrit calls to Leia or whoever to let them know he’s still not dead - “Sorry about that, by the way,” and keeping them informed of nearby activity to with with Imperial remnants/criminal activity that’s Of Concern to the New Republic and odd, really, that Luke decided here of all places to try out the hermit lifestyle. So, so strange.

And, okay.

There’s a lovely little stream-fed pool in a forest clearing he likes to go because it’s calm and soothing and great for meditating or just getting lost in thought.

(Wondering at the odds that Din and his Force-sensitive kid ending up here at the same time Luke is, and anyway, yes.)

But then a day when Din just cannot figure out what the hell is wrong some Plot Convenient Important Bit of his ship and Luke poking his nose in and being “Oh, yeah, that’s always been a problem with ships like this.”

(Because one of my favorite headcanon bit to with Luke working for Peli Motto before the Star Wars happened to him, and general intuitive know-how he got from Anakin because  reasons.  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

Din sits back at looks at this scruffy-ish hermit-to-be and is like, “What.”

At which point montage scenes of Din’s ship being repaired now includes Luke who is somehow more of little troll than he’s already been and Din sighs so much, okay, so much.

But then the day Din’s ship is finally fixed and the area’s clear of baddies and goodies alike and Din chooses not to examine why there’s a quiet little oh in his head about that, because it’s not like he and Grogu can hide out here for forever, you know?

He still has to find a Jedi to teach his kid and there’s everything else to deal with, and it’s nice here, sure, even if Luke still has some trouble neighbors, but there’s stuff to do still, so.

Off they go, not expecting to see Luke again - but then there’s the whole mess leading up to Gideon grabbing Grogu and putting together a team to get his kid back and then the actual act of getting his kid back -

And some clean-shaven hermit-to-be steamrolling right through Gideon’s Dark Troopers and giving Din and Grogu this shy, bashful little smile like Okay, look, I can explain before things get a bit chaotic again?

(Because Bo-Katan and her everything - apparently she has Issues with Luke and Jedi in general and so on, go figure - and then there’s Cara laughing and laughing and laughing because apparently Luke’s a Big Deal and Din didn’t know - he’s been busy doing...things, Dune, no time to stop and read the space tabloids or whatever, which sets her off worse, because of course it does.)

Anyway.

At some later point it’s Din and Grogu and Luke alone in the cruiser hangar Luke landed his X-wing in - “That should probably be part of the explanation, huh?” - and said explanation.

Because Luke’s got his own Things To Do, what with being all the things he is, but after dealing with most of all that for the better part of a decade now the appeal of hermit-dom is pretty strong.

Oh, he won’t get to actual hermit-dom for a while, of course, because the New Republic is still getting its feet under it, especially with Imperial remnants starting to look better organized these days and such, and anyway.

He still has that Jedi school to set up somewhere, students to find and all kinds of other things to deal with alongside all that.

But he’s got the location for his school more or less pinned down (only a dozen places to choose from at the moment, which sounds like a lot but it’s a whole lot better than what it was not that long ago) and anyway.

Din just looks at Luke who has a drowsy Grogu in his lap, little fingers clutching Luke’s robes in his hand and is like.

*SIGH*

Because the scruffy-ish hermit he and Grogu ran into on that planet a while back was a Jedi - possibly the only one they’ll meet who’ll agree to teach the kid - who is also quite possibly the worst troll Din’s ever met.

And, okay, and.

Luke did come out all this way because his kid sent a call through the Force (what has his life become that he can think thing like that now? really) and helped rescue him, them, in the process, and anyway.

He could hand his kid over to someone worse, he thinks, than this.

Than Luke.

Which he says, more or less, and in the silence that follows thinks he’s said it wrong. The odd look on Luke’s face seems to back that up -

“Uh, what?”

Because Luke would be delighted to teach Grogu - kid’s a magnificent troll in his own right, after all - but, um. Din sounds like he expects not to be around for all that?

And then the bit about Jedi and renouncing “attachments” and Luke is like, oh, oh, right.

Because that worked out so well for the previous Jedi Order and all.

More explanations regarding how...stupid all that was (with all due respect, of course), but Luke would be something of a hypocrite considering his “attachment” to his sister and her husband and everyone else he holds close, and really, okay, really.

Feelings and such make a brief appearance because Din is like oh at the thought that maybe he doesn’t have to give Grogu up for the kid’s well-being, that he can still be part of his life, that Luke wants him to be, and that’s about the time Fennec and Cara find them and discuss the matter of what to do with Gideon’s cruiser and whatnot.

Luke has to go because Leia and the New Republic are going to need to know about this, Cara’s dragging Gideon back to the New Republic and Fennec plans on dropping whatever Imperials are still alive on a New Republic outpost somewhere before taking the spoils of the cruiser to meet Boba.

(Off to the side Luke’s just “Boba Fett?” to himself while R2-D2 makes R2 noises because more family-related Drama? Sweet.)

And then!

Din and Grogu off doing who knows what for a while there and dealing with the aftermath of the rescue, New Republic people popping in here and there for information and testimony and anyway, yes.

Luke is likewise busy, and when things finally, finally calm down hes poking around the old Rebellion base on Yavin 4 and the surrounding area when this oh so familiar ship lands nice and neat next to his X-Wing Luke hasn’t bothered to move to a hangar just yet.

(Or, okay. Maybe not so much with the “nice and neat” bit because it’s taken a beating recently, needs some TLC before it’ll be in top form again, but it has to be (mostly) spaceworthy to make it out here, so.

Yes.)

Din making noises about finding a Jedi to teach his kid and Luke with this soft little smile and warm feeling in his chest and a little oh of his own as Din offers reasons and explanations as to why he and Grogu are here in his own Din way, and Luke is just.

“Okay.”

Because Yavin 4 feels right, a good place for his school. It needs work before it’ll be ready, renovations and such among them, but it’s a start and he’s got the time for it now, and anyway.

This could work.

More than that he wants it to work.

Besides. He’s got years and years and years before he really has to consider hermit-dom, but watching Din chasing after Grogu who’s just discovered the local frog population, he thinks he might give all that a pass in favor of what he could build here.

(Meanwhile, Din gets caught up in the utter nightmare of BS that inovlves the Dark Saber and whole Mand’alor nonsense and by the time he makes it back to Yavin 4 for any amount of time the school is almost complete and there are more kids running around than he remembers from the last time he was there, and also.

Luke’s looking scruffy-ish again.

He gets a blank look from Luke when Din asks Luke to take him with him if he’s going to run off to be a proper hermit (Din doesn’t quite grasp the fine nuances of hermits and solitude, but Luke doesn’t have the heart to enlighten him about it just yet) and Luke’s like.

“We went on a retreat in the hills for a week, Din.”

Something about communing with the world around them while teaching the kids wilderness survival and suchlike and friendship and bonding purposes. Also for funsies.

But it meant Luke didn’t shave every day and such, hence the scruffyness, and anyway.

“But sure. Say the word and we’ll set out for a life of solitude. Together.”

(Okay, Luke doesn’t have the heart to tell Din about hermit-dom, but he’s not above teasing him about it, okay?)

Din giving Luke a look because the sarcasm isn’t appreciated, but anyway.

It’s nice to be back and he stays as long as he can before he has to go back to his duties as Mand’alor and it’s a Thing the do for a while.

Luke with his school and bouts of Space Adventures - this little smile he gets when oh, look, it’s the Mand’alor and they continue said Space Adventure together - and occasional political or similar gathering.

Luke getting all dressed up in his Jedi Best, although sometimes it’s his New Republic Best, and running into the Mand’alor and his retinue in their best and oh, the horrific amounts of “low-key” flirting between the two of them.

(Everyone is So Tired of the two of them and their ridiculous Pining, it’s awful, really.)

And then!

Din who has to choose a consort (because Plot Reasons) and Luke is really the only one.

(It makes some political sense, he argues, Ancient Enemy of Mandalorians and so on, brother to Senator Organa, but everyone is like “Right, sure. Those are your reasons. Completely believable.”)

And Luke, okay.

His school on Yavin 4 is doing well enough several of his former students have stayed on or come back to instruct younger students. He’s been thinking of starting more schools elsewhere, and look, okay, look.

The thing of it they’ve been trying to get Luke to Do Something about his Pining, and if that means ousting him from the school to get him to start a new one, say on this Mandalore they’ve heard (all) about from him over the years, they’ll do it, don’t think they won’t.

And it’s like.

When Din gets wind of the planned Ousting he’s like oh? and makes an effor to ~woo Luke like he’s ever needed to, and anyway.

It’s all kinds of ridiculous, sometimes blows up in their faces and goes wrong in the most hilarious ways, but.

It’s Din and this battered old ship of his he could never let go even if as Mand’alor he mostly travels on some grand, impressive ship, these days.

Din a little dejected after his latest attempt to ~woo Luke goes awry because he wants to get it right, okay, working on his old ship when Luke comes out to lend a hand. Grogu’s there too, more knowledgable about ships these days, it’s true, but there’s something to be said for being the helper and having Din explain what’s wrong and how to fix it like in the old days.

Moments like that are far better ways to ~woo Luke, and Din is just ??? because he’s not doing anything differently???

Which.

Anyway, anyway.

At some point Luke is just yes, and Din is a quiet, stunned oh, and off they go back to Mandalore where the whole Consort business happens, years and years in the making, and anyway.

Luke sets up one of his Jedi schools on Mandalore, and students show up or are brought there, and Grogu is one of them, because of course he is, and just.

They get a (mostly) happily ever after because enemies new and old and general idiocy every so often. Space Adventures and so on, and anyway, it’s good, theirs, and that’s what matters.

#star wars nonsense #mandalorian nonsense #dinluke #¯\_(ツ)_/¯ #technically not a fic #vagrant fic #long post

[danniburgh]

Rushingly Bittersweet (Javier Peña x f!reader) part 23

Pairing: Javier Peña x ofc//f!reader with name.

Summary: After the fall of Escobar everything starts happening way too fast for Javier; his raise, his new office, his new team, the Cali cartel’s operation, the sudden arrival of a new agent that was transferred to his team for no apparent reason, the way he was falling in love with her almost unintentionally.

And he couldn’t seem to stop any of that.

Word count: +6.4k

Chapter warnings: lmao angst and then fluff, a brief mention of food, and drugs and a dog.

A/N: This chapter is set after season three. // aAAAAAA this is so long i dont even why but it took me like ALL day FUCK FUCK FUCK anyway thanks to all my babies that got me through the desperation of wanting this to write itself lmao, also two chapters and we are DONE with the main story holy shit

ao3 // fic index // Masterlist // fic playlist

comments and reblogs are eternally appreciated 💓 let me know if you wanna be tagged

←previous // next→

gifs: @pascalsky

Javier groaned when he sat up and moved his legs to get them out of the bed and looked at the alarm clock on his nightstand; three forty-eight in the morning. He turned on the lamp, reached at his nape and scratched with blunt nails and reached for the pack of smokes that he left on the nightstand before laying down to try to sleep with the other hand.

He pulled the last one out of the pack and stood up to throw the empty carton in the trashcan near the door; he eyed the empty pack from the day before in the bottom of the can with the cigarette clinging to his lips thanks to near dry spit making them sticky and let out a deep sigh.

It wasn’t working.

His tongue moved to shift the cigarette from his lips and he let it fall inside the trashcan, knowing it wouldn’t be the last one he put between his lips, but at least he didn’t light it.

Javier thought of getting out of the room and raiding his dad’s bar again, but he knew it wouldn’t do him any good.

It wasn’t working.

He knew it, and it couldn't be denied any longer. He wasn’t getting any younger and his old ways weren’t helping him forget as they used to ten or fifteen years before.

Javier walked back to the bed and sat on the edge, letting his half naked body fall backwards on the mattress and looking at the ceiling, he felt his hand twitch and he felt it empty without a nicotine stick firmly pressed between his index and his thumb but did nothing to calm it down.

Ten or fifteen years before: had it really been that long? Javier huffed at nothing and scratched his chest, leaving his hand there, uselessly wondering what would it be of him if he did something different; incidentally working through years and years of missteps, mishappens, mistakes, and shaping them in some other way that would have saved him from five months of poor sleep and constant drunkenness, five months of chain-smoking and lack of sharpness, five months of only remembering the bad things he had done and the bad things he deserved.

He huffed again because of course his retirement wouldn’t be him sitting on a porch to enjoy the evening Texas breeze and a glass of scotch; even if he had tried it.

It was having nightmares every third night he wanted nothing but to shove deep inside his head, but that then, reluctantly, he had to tell his new therapist his dad had forced him to go to.

It was having to remember all the men he saw dying every time he heard the words war or coke or shooting. Having to remember them changing and fighting and dying for a cause he wasn’t sure if he still believed in. Having to remember Carrillo every time he and Steve talked on the phone.

It was remembering you each time someone sent him a letter congratulating his work or asking for consultation or asking for an interview; because he had an idea of what you had been through and he was sure he didn’t deserve all that claptrap. He did nothing but cause chaos and destruction and death and even though his therapist said it wasn’t his fault he knew it was because he aided for it to happen.

But you? You did everything you could to find yourself a way to recover what was yours, and you still lost it.

Javier sat up again and after six exact seconds of consideration, he leaned forward and opened his nightstand drawer. He took the black tape he had been clinging to for five months and held it in front of him for a couple of minutes.

He chuckled at himself and gripped the small cassette, took from the drawer his tape player, pressed the red button for it to open, let the tape fall in the slit and closed it, turned it on and rewinded the tape, trying to make the calculations in his head of how many times he had repeated that process as the tape ran to the beginning.

He put the headphones on, laid down back on the bed and pressed play.

“Hi, Javi, uhm…”

God, how he missed you.

The phone rang again, fuck the phone, you thought, and hid your face under a pillow, trying to fall asleep again despite the clear signal that you were no longer sleepy.

And the phone rang again, you lifted your head from the cocoon of pillows and eyed the clock on your nightstand, who was calling you at five seventeen in the morning?

Grunting, you got out of the bed and walked out of the bedroom to the small space that made your living room, dining room and kitchen and got to the phone.

“Hello?” your voice was a deep groan, and you cleared your throat.

“Another letter came for you, when are you gonna change your address?” your dad’s voice broke through the receiver and you closed your eyes, breathing in and out the stress it was already provoking in you.

“I’ll get to it, dad,” you replied “are you gonna send it to me or can I go to the house?” you questioned, feeling already your lower lip tremble.

“I’ll send it, your mom doesn’t wanna see you yet,” he let out in a stern voice “sorry, pumpkin.” he whispered and hung up the phone.

You sat on the armrest of the loveseat next to the phone and let your tears fall from your eyes, not even bothering about cleaning them anymore.

You sighed and nodded to yourself, letting your tired gaze roam around your tiny living space and you missed the openness of your family house, the one you had come back to and were expelled from by an angry mother that felt ashamed of the truth you told them.

But you had to give it to her, she didn’t even know you went down to Colombia, or that you’d been having drug issues, or that they fired you.

She had told you she didn’t know who you were anymore.

Neither did you.

So you left, they couldn’t be more disappointed in you than you were in yourself, so you walked out as your mom wanted and tried to find a home for yourself as you still wondered what the hell were you supposed to do. There wasn’t a handbook or a protocol that taught people how to stop being a DEA agent, the government didn’t train people to go back to civility or even offered a program to forget all the shit you had lived in the places they had sent you.

You stayed in your hometown, unknowingly to your old friends and twenty minutes away from your parent’s home and didn’t leave your house unless absolutely necessary; Albuquerque wasn’t a small town, but it wasn’t big, and you were dreading walking past someone who knew you before you had lost yourself and tried to explain all your baggage, you didn’t have the time, or the energy. And you didn’t want people feeling sorry for yourself, with the woman in the mirror you had enough.

Everything seemed pointless, and you felt heavy all the time, as if you were carrying a chain ball in each foot and shackles in your hands while being dragged down by quicksand.

In the kitchen's corner you saw the last two boxes you still didn’t have energy to unpack after moving them across the continent and let out a teary sight as you stood from the armrest and walked to them.

You opened the first box and saw it filled with office clutter; pencils, markers, some notebooks and notepads, the brown journal you had been looking for to burn on your stove; a set of keys you weren’t sure what they opened and in the bottom, folded pieces of paper.

“Oh, no.” you muttered to the air of the warm kitchen and you doubted reaching in for it… The hesitation lasted two minutes but for you it was like two hours, you knew what it was, you knew why it was in that box and when you took it it felt hot and heavy. You were holding feelings in that letter, you were holding hours of shed tears and memories you didn’t want to have anymore. Memories that still haunted you whenever you smelled roasted colombian coffee and saw an ad of Malduros on tv.

You didn’t open it. You knew what was written there. And for a few seconds you thought of burning it on the stove instead.

“Well, I don’t want this, might as well send it.” you muttered under your breath, recognizing it would do you some good to stop holding to it, acknowledging it would do you some good to know he had it. If he wanted to rip it into millions of pieces or burn it or toss it in the trash or eat it, it was his problem.

You bit your lip as you walked to the phone; you hadn’t thought of him in a while. But as you sat on the loveseat all the shit you wanted to bury if not get rid of came back to your mind like a high wave of a rough sea; sharp, cold, gritty.

“Shit.” you gasped, trying to breathe in and out several times because you didn’t want to cry. It was too early for crying.

You grabbed the phone and thought who could have Javier’s address. God, even thinking of his name made your chest flutter and your stomach churn. You had fooled yourself into thinking he didn’t have an effect on you anymore, into even assuring five months was enough to forget him. What a fool.

You dialed the number of the only person you knew for sure knew the address by heart; the phone rang three times before it was answered.

“Hello?” a sleepy nasal voice greeted, and you smiled through the few tears that had accumulated in your eyes, grateful that he still had his embassy issued cell phone.

“Stod!” your smile was making your cheeks hurt, and you wondered in the back of your head when was the last time you had smiled.

“Who’s this? Flor?” he asked and you let out a stiff chuckle. You decided not to be a huge asshole and dump something heavy as your actual name that early in the morning, so you went with it.

“Yeah, sorry to call at this hour, did I wake you?” you played with the edge of the loveseat’s armrest.

“Kinda,” a noise of shuffle was heard “but it’s almost seven here, so I’m not that mad,” he teased, making you chuckle again “how are you? to what do I owe the honor?”

“Uhm, I–‌I’m calling to take advantage of you,” you said, hearing his chuckle through the line and a whisper of of course you did, “by any chance do you know Peña’s address in Texas?” you asked, closing your eyes and crossing your fingers, wishing for him to not ask:

“Why?”

“I–‌I have something of his...” you mumbled under your breath “I just found it and I wanna send it.” you said, which wasn’t technically a lie.

“Uh…” Stoddard hesitated, and you heard a faint of a pouring noise in the back that made you sigh, a cup of coffee would do you wonders, “well I do–I don't know if I’m allowed to just say it, y’know?” you frowned.

“Oh, come on, please?” you pleaded, your leg started bouncing because of the anxiety that was growing in your chest.

“What is it? is something important?” he asked.

“Super important,” you nodded even though he couldn’t see, “he needs it.”

“How do you know?” he questioned again, and you whined under your breath.

“Uhm, I ju–‌I just know, uhm…” since when were you a twitchy, nervous mess? “can’t you just tell me?”

“Not really, no.” he muttered in that voice that made you want to punch him and hug him at the same time.

You let out the air of your lungs and controlled your body.

You had promised yourself to tell the truth when it was necessary. So you were going to.

“Look, Stod, this is long to explain, okay?” you began, and he hummed affirmatively in response, “the only thing you need to know is that the thing I have here is very important that he gets because he needs to know that I kept it for him.” you said, closing your eyes again.

“Flor you just told me nothing.” he let out, his voice was being muffled and it sounded like he had something in his mouth.

“Fuck, Stoddard, I love him, okay?” you let out “and this thing I have is a letter that I need him to have so he knows I love him!” you panted and bit your lip when he didn’t answer.

You just had said out loud you loved someone, you just had said to someone you loved Javier Peña for the first time. Shit.

“Oh,” Stoddard said after a moment and you held your breath, “you have where to write?”

“You’re a fucking king!”

Six hours later, you wanted nothing else but to turn the fucking car around.

“This is a mistake, this is a fucking mistake!” you yelled inside your car, opening the glove box to toss there your sunglasses. The highway 285 was eternal, and you hated driving through it; it was empty, there was nothing but desert landscapes and the occasional tree, but you were halfway, just crossing the state border and there was nothing in the everlasting earth that would make you drive back home, not even your fucking hesitation, not even your self-doubt.

“What the fuck am I gonna say?” you asked yourself again, chewing on your lower lip and gripping the steering wheel, “am I just pulling on his driveway and knocking on his door and saying hi I’m sorry I broke your heart I have a letter for you? Fuck!” you saw the beginning of yet another town and you drove slowly looking for a gas station, “or better yet, I read this shit to him to complete the humiliation!” you turned your head for a second at the letter resting easily in the co-pilot’s seat and you groaned, finding a gas station. You were also hungry.

With the car’s tank full and a plastic bag filled with snacks for the remaining six hours, you sighed to yourself and started driving again.

“You’re doing this because you need closure,” you told yourself, shoving your hand into a bag of salted chips and bringing three to your mouth “if he doesn’t wanna see you, too bad, he’s gonna miss your haircut,” you mumbled, chewing at the same time “you leave the letter and let him decide what to do with it.”

With the highway 285 long behind you and the sky just beginning to turn orange, you had convinced yourself of your own reasons and you even had a plan to go back home as soon as you were done in Laredo. You also had promised yourself and all your Muertos, you wouldn’t react to Javier Peña if he didn’t react to you and as you had learned in your three-year station in México, you can’t break a promise you made to dead people.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you said when the marked map told you you were a block away from the Peña’s ranch house, you were chewing the last bit of a nearly melted chocolate bar you had bought hours ago as your nervousness betrayed you and you started chuckling at your impulses, “holy fuck, I wanna go home!”

But you were already there. The gate was open and there were two trucks parked on the driveway. So you sucked everything you were feeling, and you turned off the ignition. Fuck. It.

You breathed in and out several times before you unbuckled your seatbelt, grabbed the letter and opened the door. You did it again as you walked the gravel path to the house and were grateful it was already dark, so at least the night could help you hide until the last second.

You stopped walking, rationality coming back to you.

“What the fuck am I doing?” you whispered to yourself and turned around, shaking your head as you walked back to the car.

“Mija!” you heard behind you, you froze in place and stiffened at the sound of a thick accent in a rough and warm voice.

“Oh, no.” you said under your breath.

“It’s you!” you turned around, and you saw the face of the man you had only met through an old picture Javier carried with him at all times. “viniste.” (you came) behind him walked a black, large dog that ignored the man and huffed at you.

“I’m sorry?” your voice went out thin and high, and you wanted to chastise yourself for it. You had given yourself a seven-hour pep talk on the way, and you were already breaking.

“I told him,” the man rolled his eyes behind the glasses he was wearing and gestured for you to walk closer “Jesús Peña, nice to finally meet you,” he extended his hand to you and you took it and shook it, the dog got closer to you and smelled your legs, you tried to smile at him and at the dog but tears were already gathering inside your eyes “le dije que ibas a venir a buscarlo.” (I told him you’ll come looking for him)

“I’m sorry, Mr. Peña, I–‌I do–‌”

“Mr. Peña nada,” he interrupted, “call me Chucho,” you nodded and sniffed slightly “ven,” (come) he gestured again and started walking towards the house, “Pepe, métete.” (get inside) he called, and the dog trotted to his side.

“Wait, Chucho, wait!” you called him under your breath as you followed him, he didn’t stop.

“Come on in,” he opened the house door and waited for you to get inside. He nodded his head for you to walk in and you frowned.

“You don’t even know who I am, what ar–‌”

“I know enough,” he said solemnly, walked inside and you and the dog did too and he pointed to an armchair “siéntate, mija, he’s on the back.” he turned around and walked through an archway to what it looked like the kitchen and disappeared through a door, Pepe behind him.

“What the fuck.” you sobbed out, knowing you had little time to leave the letter you were clutching in your hands on the coffee table in front of you and walk out and leave for good. But you couldn’t move, you were in Javier’s house and you wanted to stop being there, but your body was frozen in place and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. You wanted to scream at yourself, at your fucking impulses; you had all the opportunities to turn around and go back home, why didn’t you listen to your logical, rational, always right brain?

“Hi.” you heard behind your back and you covered your mouth with the hand that wasn’t holding the fucking letter.

You turned around and blinked the first two tears of what you already knew was going to be a sea of them.

He was wearing the red shirt. And God, it was his color.

Javier wanted to run away and hide.

He had just made peace with never seeing you again; he had just accepted that the only part he would have of you was that voice mail you had left him months before. But there you were, teary and gorgeous in front of him. Shaking and with your hands holding a piece of paper as if it were your lifeline.

His head was a contradiction, because he wanted to grab you and hug you all the same he wanted to grab you and shove you out of his house and his life.

“What are you doing here?” Javier asked, knowing deep inside him he wanted to tell you how good you looked and how much he liked your new hair. You let out a shaky breath at his deep voice. You had missed it.

It was the first time you saw him in five months, and the weight of your feelings for him fell again on your shoulders like a recently broken off boulder, heavy, rough edged and shapeless.

“I don’t know.” you answered truthfully, he sighed and deviated his eyes from you, you breathed in heavily and the only thing that got into your lungs was his essence. You cursed under your breath and he huffed, putting his hands on his hips and leaning to the side.

“How d'you found me?” he questioned, and you huffed through the tears.

“I have my resources.” you let out on a whisper. Trying to find his eyes, you needed to see his eyes.

“What do you want?” Javier asked again, and you deflated at the tone of his voice. The rational part of your brain yelled I told you so at your feelings and you knew it was right, you were expecting too much of yourself and of him.

“See you,” you bit your lower lip and Javier saw from the corner of his eyes how you scrunched up your nose, and he felt something inside his chest flutter, hating and loving all the same how much of you he still had stored inside his memory, “I have something for you.”

“Keep it.” he let out. You shook your head and raised your hand with the letter on it.

“Read it.” you half ordered, half pleaded, Javier chuckled and then shook his head, mimicking you.

“I don’t want it.” he knew he was lying to himself, he wanted to know what it was, he wanted to grip it and smell the paper and read it over and over but his body wasn’t responding to what his feelings were telling him and only responded, almost in automatic, to his prideful side, to that side of him that still resented you and himself.

“Alright then,” you said, standing straight after realizing you had regained the ability to read him even through your tears, and understanding there was something he was struggling with, “I’ll read it.”

“Stop.” Javier frowned and looked at you, his eyes pleading for you to do something you couldn’t decipher.

“I know, okay?” you said, trying to reassure him and yourself “I know I’m in no position to ask for shit,” Javier dropped his hands to the sides “but I just want ten minutes, just ten of your life, and you’ll never have to see me again if that’s what you want.”

You knew it was a risky thing to say, but you needed him to know, you needed him to understand you because you knew and he knew you did understand him. And he needed to know you. You and your version.

He said nothing, you took it as his queue to start so you breathed in deeply and unfolded the letter.

“Stop.” Javier said under his breath.

“No,” you wiped a tear off your cheek “I wrote this when I went back to Colombia after I got fired,” Javier looked at you and you saw his face quirk in something close to pain “uhm, before I wrote this I drove around Bogotá,” you recalled that last day in the city and how much it pained you to be there, “I went–‌I went to some of the places you told me you liked” you tried to smile and dropped your eyes to your shoes, trying to find something to cling to and compose yourself “even that little cafe you told me about, near the palace of justice, remember?” you sobbed out. And he called your name. Making you gasp.

“Stop,” you looked up at him and saw him frowning, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, “we don’t need this.”

“I do!” you let out, Javier brushed his lips with his thumb and felt his hand twitch in need of nicotine again “I need to tell you all this!” you wiped your tears away again “I need closure!” you cried out.

Javier felt his stomach turn around and all the blood of his body went to his feet. Fuck. 

How could he had been so stupid? he got into his own feelings too much and he forgot that you had cried your eyes out to him all those months ago when you handed him everything you were in a couple of manila folders. He had gotten wrapped by his own feelings and the hurricane your declaration had created in his life that he had forgotten just how much you were suffering as well. Because he might have thought about you; all the time, every day; he thought about your past and your reasons and motivations. He even thought of you naked on his bed in Colombia, under his body, moaning and gasping when he needed some release, but he forgot to think about your feelings.

“I didn’t come here to ask for forgiveness because I know I don’t deserve it,” you said and Javier felt the wetness of a tear escaping his eye and making its way through his cheek, “I’m trying to get closure, Javier, please let me try.”

Javier nodded.

You cried more when you saw him brush a tear off with his thumb and chew the inside of his mouth. You wanted to run away; you were sure he was better before you came to his house and disrupted his peace; you were hurting him again, and you wanted to kneel in front of him and ask him for what you said you weren’t seeking. He made you want so much.

You sniffed and dropped your eyes to the open letter in your hand, Javier didn’t move from where he was standing.

“No amount of guilt will or can change the past,” you began, Javier crossed his arms on his chest and saw movement to his side, “that much I know. I kno–‌know that it doesn’t matter,” you sniffed again and Javier turned his head to watch the dog casually walking towards him and sitting next to his boots. You saw it too, and you let out a sad chuckle.

“Ignore him.” he just said. You nodded.

“Uhm, it doesn’t matter how much I apologize, or how many I’m sorry’s I mouth, forgiveness doesn’t come for free.” you didn’t want to lift your eyes to see him, so you continued.

Javier only saw you reading him something he was sure you had poured your heart into, and he wanted nothing but to hear what you wanted to say to him, but he couldn’t focus into listening, because there you were, again in front of him doing what he never dared to do.

Opening your fucking chest, taking your heart out and giving it raw to him.

“...knowing and realizing and acknowledging just how much I love you.”

Javier drowned a gasp, as he fell in love with you all over again, you were doing what he didn’t have the balls to do, because in his sleepless sleep he wanted to look for you, in the middle of his idle nights, just after waking up after a nightmare, he wanted to find you and go to you and tell you whatever the fuck he could to be back with you. But he never did, he never did because he was a coward, because he feared his own feelings so fucking much.

He couldn't hear anything of it after your declaration of love. God, how much he loved you. You were standing there, with your eternally hopeful eyes filled with crystalline tears and several pages of written feelings. And he realized, there, with you in the middle of his living room, shifting to the next page, that even though you were extremely similar, you were also very different.

“...with you I found a reason to give up after all the shit I've lived in…” you muttered and he found the differences inside him; you were braver than him, you were smarter and more connected with what you felt; you weren’t scared of your feelings as he was. You went for what you wanted and even though it had been five months of that dreadful day when he saw his heart squeezed out of his body by your hesitant hand, that day he still replayed inside his head when the day was just over and his brain was floating between sleep and awakeness, he still wondered why you were bothering.

“There were so many things I thought…” you kept reading as he wondered if it was possible for the two of you to connect with each other outside of shared trauma and sympathy for each other’s experiences. But he answered to himself that even if you two weren’t as emotionally available as you needed to be to build a relationship or if you both were having a hard time adapting to be and live out of the system, maybe the love was real.

You stopped reading after noticing he was just standing there with his arms crossed and his eyes on you but not seeing you; you wiped the last of your tears and chuckled bitterly to yourself. Making him blink a few times.

“Fuck this,” you crumpled the pages in your hands and dropped them on the coffee table, shaking your head. Javier frowned, “it doesn’t matter what I read, I shouldn’t have come.” you said, drowning your sobs and gasping for air. He wasn’t paying attention, and nothing about it was making you feel any better about anything.

“What?” Javier whispered, dropping his hands to his sides.

“A’right, then…” you didn’t look at him and tried to control your breathing again “I guess that’s what I wanted to do,” you walked to the door and opened it, Javier wanted to ask what the fuck was happening, he wanted to grab your arm and stop you as he didn’t do it when you were leaving his office back in Colombia “I’m sorry to have bothered you, Javier,” he winced slightly involuntarily at the way you sobbed out his name “I’ll go.”

You walked out of the house covering your mouth with your hand to muffle your sobs, your rational brain was right, it was a mistake; it was a complete and utter mistake, and you were so ashamed of yourself for even thinking it would change anything. You walked to your car feeling the sharp, stinging sensation of a migraine settling in your head. You heard steps behind you and you turned around slowly, not wanting to put hope on the source being Javier.

“Mija,” you look at Chucho trying to catch up with you, “¿a dónde vas?” (where are you going?)

“I’m going home.” you said, shrugging at the man when he stopped in front of you.

“Why?” he asked, frowning.

“Because he said nothing, Chucho,” you bit your lip and looked at the Texan night sky and huffed at yourself, “he said nothing.”

“But he wants you, mija!” he assured you, and you shook your head several times.

“If he wants me as you say,” you pointed towards the house behind him, “then how come I’m not with him?” you reasoned, “he doesn’t want me.”

You dropped your eyes to the gravel path as Chucho sighed and raised his hand to squeeze your shoulder just enough for you to feel less sad. Just how a father would do.

Chucho glared at the house, the door open and Pepe standing in the threshold; his son had been back for months, he had been living next to him, eating next to him, working next to him and breathing next to him just as he did before he went away but he knew, just like a father could, he was not the same man that left.

He reminisced over the muchacho his son was before he left Laredo, so eager to get out of the small town he grew up in and that harbored his family home, so anxious to meet new horizons, so keen to find and explore new places and learn new things; he sometimes found himself missing that boy, he sometimes missed his Javi; the one that helped him build a paddock for his own horse, the one that washed his truck without asking and without failing each friday evening, the one that took care of his Mamá’s funeral at sixteen when himself was too sad to think about coffins or tombstones; because the man that came back to him after almost two decades too far away from home wasn’t the same.

He had seen and done things that Chucho never wanted to to ask about but he imagined, his Javier wasn’t the same. And Chucho knew why, but he also knew about you. Javi had talked about you way too much for his own good, as he did everything. And Chucho also knew why, he wasn’t letting the woman that made his son come back home run away.

“He does want you,” he said, slowly, with a low voice, as if it were a secret, “mijo… es un idiota a veces, but he loves you.” (he’s an idiot sometimes)

“You don’t know that.” you refuted.

“I do,” he gave you a smile that was barely visible under the white mustache “el te ama, y yo…” (he loves you, and I…) “I’m so grateful.” you shook your head as two thick tears left your eyes.

“I broke his heart.” you sobbed out.

“Y me lo trajiste a casa, Florecita” (and you brought him home to me, little flower) you sobbed harder, not able to control it anymore, and he brought you to him, and held you.

“He told you my fake name?” you asked between sobs.

“He told me what you look like.” he muttered.

“I’m so sorry.” you let yourself be wrapped by him and you hid your face on his shoulder.

“Don’t be, without you I would’ve lost my only child.” you held him tighter.

“Please.” you pleaded for nothing and everything at the same time.

“You gotta fight for him, mija.” he muttered to your ear, and you shook your head, still leaning into him.

“I’m fighting for him!” you almost yelled “I’m here, aren’t I?” you lifted your head to look at the man and you gasped for air, dropping your hands to your sides “I drove almost thirteen hours non-stop all the way from Albuquerque just to be here!” you told him and the man stiffened as you lost your shit in front of him, you gripped your head between your hands “thirteen hours to read him that stupid letter and he didn’t say shit!”

“You did what?” you heard and lifted your head to see Javier standing behind his dad.

Chucho looked at Javier and then at you with your cheeks dampened with tears. He squeezed your shoulder again and turned to walk to the house.

“You were in Albuquerque all this time?” he said, and you nodded, noticing he was holding the letter in his hand “when you said you’d go you meant back there?” he frowned in confusion.

“Well, yeah, I have nowhere to stay so I might as well drive home.” you muttered, Javier’s frown deepened, and he stepped towards you.

“Stay here,” he said, “if you wanna leave you leave in the morning.” his voice was thin and low. You looked at his eyes and saw them reddened and wet.

“Did you read it?” you whispered out. He stepped towards you again, nodding.

“Stay.” he whispered back.

“You don’t want me.” you said under your breath as shook your head and he stepped closer.

“Who says that?” he asked, and you looked at the gravel path again.

“I won’t stay.” you felt Javier’s warm fingers graze under your chin and lift your head to him slowly.

“Don’t be so stubborn,” he chastised you with half a smirk forming on his lips “stay with us.” you shook your head again.

“You don’t want me here but you want me to stay,” you said, frowning at him “Javier you can’t have it bo–‌”

“I want you to stay,” he interrupted you “I want you to stay with me,” he whispered as his fingers moved to your cheek and wiped away a tear. “please.”

Javier had read your letter after you walked out and realized, at the prospect of you leaving for what it seemed like forever, at the possibility of you leaving him for good and he never getting to see you or your gorgeous face or your hypnotizing eyes or hearing your voice that did so many things on him, that the balance of his other losses leaned upwards when he weighed the probability of losing you.

Did he care about what you did? of course he did, it still stung sometimes deep inside his chest, it still filled him with something close to grief.

Was he willing to work it out and let it aside because he didn’t want to feel the agony and deep sorrow of not having you by his side he had been feeling for the last five months again? yes.

And the answer to that question inside his head startled him and shook him deeply.

You were there. God, you were there, there was no way he was going to let you leave.

Javier decided you could work it out later, he loved you way too much not to try. He didn’t even plan to love you the way he did, the way he discovered by reading that letter or remembering the man he was without you. He didn’t even plan to love you at all, but he did. He was madly, insanely, deeply in love with you.

Javier moved his hand to your shoulder and let the one holding the letter find its way to your waist. Find its way home.

“Don’t go.” he whispered again. He moved the last step to wrap his hands around you. You let out a low yelp at the feeling of his body so close to you, for a second you froze in place, your eyes closed and his warmth invaded your entire body as he hid his head in the crook of your neck. He inhaled your essence as you hugged him back and gripped him tightly against you.

Javier felt as if all his parts were being glued back together.

“Stay with me.” he whispered against the skin of your neck.

So you stayed.

←previous // next→

*THE LETTER*

Pepe:

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Javi's babies: @pulplorrd​

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[ratcatcher0325]

Nobody’s Fool Bonus (Chapter #1B)

More bonus chapters! Yay! This is a continuation of Chapter #1 from Penn’s POV. This poor little guy, he has no idea what to make of his new situation. Lemme know if you’re enjoying these! I might make a few more!

Original Chapter: Chapter #1

Previous Bonus Chapter: Chapter #1A

Next Bonus Chapter: Chapter #2A

CW: Adult language, dehumanization, angst, references to abuse, blood

Reblogs > Likes. Thank you!

________________________________________

NOBODY’S FOOL

Chapter #1B: Into the Fire

Word Count: 2,339 Read Time: Approx. 18 mins

[Penn’s POV]

I’d tried my absolute best to be good. I’d been docile, and submissive. I didn’t bite or scratch. It wasn’t my fault I trembled from head to toe every time her hands got near me! My whole body fit easily inside her palm, for crying out loud! I couldn’t think of a single thing I’d done wrong, to make her want to punish me. But that didn’t really matter, I supposed. If a human had made up their mind to toy with me, they could do it for absolutely no reason at all. 

She appeared in the doorway, opposite my warm little corner of the couch. I could see a white, porcelain bowl with steam curling up and dissolving in the cooler air, gripped in her right hand. Her left held a paper napkin and a metal spoon. If I didn’t know any better…. It looked like… food. And then the heavenly smell wafted over to me. Like an involuntary reflex, I couldn’t help weakly sitting up at the intoxicating scent. I hadn’t eaten in almost three days. My mouth began to water. 

As she crossed the room and settled onto the floor, she rested the bowl only a few inches from me. I hazarded a gaze up, to meet her eyes, desperately hungry and half pleading that she would let me eat some of whatever was steaming right before my nose. “You want something to eat? Nice and warm? It’s very yummy. Beef and vegetables, delicious!” She cooed. 

I leaned forward, craning my neck to see over the lip of the pristine porcelain. I was practically drooling as my stomach twisted in empty, pathetic knots. Then, a momentary thought caused me to panic. What if this was all just a tease? What if she was going to dangle food before me only to pull it away and eat it all herself, right in front of me? That’s what’d happened most days of my life with Claire. What made this woman any different? I didn’t trust her. I didn’t want it if she was just going to torture me with it. I needed to get as far away from that delicious smell as possible. I scrambled backwards until my shoulder blades slammed into the back of the couch. I was trapped with nowhere else to go. 

“Awww don’t worry, it’s safe… see?” With that, she lifted a steaming spoon out of the bowl and into her mouth. I shuddered, with fear and envy. I was right, she was just going to eat it for me, knowing I was too small to resist her. I didn’t budge. I wasn’t going to play her stupid little game. “You must be hungry, aren’t you, little guy?” She dipped the spoon in once more, only this time, she held it out to me. I clenched my jaw. Did I dare to try? I was terrified she would only rip it away from me at the last second. 

I gawked up at her and then back to the food I so desperately wanted. Could I trust her? She hadn’t killed me yet. So that meant she wanted me alive. Which also meant she’d do what was necessary to keep me that way. Maybe she really was planning to feed me, even if only to keep her toy conscious and pliable. She watched me closely, a smile playing on her lips. Of course, my nerve-wracked indecision was adorable to her. “Go ahead… you’re okay….” I was so hungry. I had to put on a brave face. I sat up a bit. Searching her eyes furtively for a sudden change of heart, as I leaned in and opened my mouth obediently. The spoon was balanced on the napkin, pressed together by her fingers. She carefully brought the spoon before me and tipped it slightly so the soup began to cascade towards me. I couldn’t help but eat heartily. My body was so starved for anything at this point. I had to admit, it was absolutely delicious and the warmth radiated through my body, relaxing my, up to this point, extremely tense shoulders. 

“Good boy…” I tried to ignore the implication that I was nothing more than a dog to her. Instead, I focused on eating while she still had the heart to let me. I ate ravenously, afraid she’d take it away at any moment. Finally, I found myself actually feeling full, for the first time in at least a week. I was overjoyed. I needed that, more than I’m sure she even realized. “That feel better?”

I jumped when she spoke again, bashfully wiping the mess of soup from my mouth and chin. That was embarrassing. I darted my eyes downward toward my lap. I could still feel her staring. 

 “Now, let’s get you a bath huh? We should get you all cleaned up, shouldn’t we?” My heart leapt in my chest. It was plain to see that I desperately needed to be washed. I was caked in blood, sweat and dirt. But the idea of her handling me, rubbing every inch of my vulnerable, broken and naked body with her curious fingers, terrified me. Baths were always undignified experiences for pets like me. Of course, humans only laughed at our blushed cheeks and avoidant eyes. I could remember many a violent and painful bath given by all kinds of impatient or overly exploratory fingers. But what could I do? If she wanted to bathe me, she could and she would. There was nothing I could do to stop her.

Resigned to my fate, I stayed limp and passive as she lifted me up into the air and carried me off. Her eyes still bore into me, trying to catch my gaze. I wouldn’t look at her, she’d see how terrified I was and that might make her torture me even more.  “You’re such a sweet little boy… Yes you are… you’re doing such a great job with me, I want you to know that.” This was all so humiliating. I didn’t want her to see me naked. I didn’t want her to touch me. I just wanted to hide in some dark corner away from giant hands and eyes. I didn’t know how much more stress I could take. 

I remained totally silent while she prepped the bath, hardly daring to move. She kept me in her palm, never setting me down for a second. I sat in the center of her hand, legs dangling off the side, my chest pressed between the pad of her thumb over my sternum and two fingers on my spine between my shoulders. One of my hands resting on the knuckle of her thumb was also pinched between my body and her finger. I couldn’t have squirmed out of her grip, even if I’d been brave enough to try. Still, the pressure between her fingertips was light, I could still breathe and she only seemed to be holding me down out of an abundance of caution, rather than an expression of dominance. I found myself feeling touched by this. Maybe she wasn’t completely horrible after all. Maybe she was as sweet as her voice let on. Unlikely… but maybe… 

“Let’s get these clothes off, okay?” Suddenly the finger and thumb of her free hand descended on my body as she pulled, roughly, on my undershirt, which was practically sealed to my flesh with my own blood. As she pulled, she ripped this dried seal between my wounded skin and the fabric. It hurt. I cried out. Never mind about the being sweet thing. I was wrong. “Oh you poor thing! Did that hurt?? I’m sorry…” It felt like she was mocking me with her concern. Of course it fucking hurt! What did you think was going to happen? I squirmed in protest, trying to free myself from her grip. I desperately hoped she’d just let me undress myself. She’d rip open my wounds and make me bleed again, otherwise! She stared at me dumbfounded for a minute as my heart thundered in my chest. Let me go! Please! 

Finally, thankfully, she released her fingers and let me sit freely in her hand. I breathed a sigh of relief, while making a big show of taking off my clothing, demonstrating to her I wasn’t running away and was capable of being obedient. I was scared any sudden moves would end with me back between rough fingers and the forced removal of my clothing by her gigantic grip. 

Carefully, the shirt came off. I gritted my teeth as the blood soaked fabric clung to my skin. Then, balancing carefully on her warm, soft flesh, I stood up in her hand. I didn’t want to do this next part. But I also didn’t want an angry and impatient human who could drown me simply if she got bored, either. I took off the boxers. There. My job was done. I stared at my own feet, my whole body tense. She was staring me up and down, I could feel her eyes pouring all over my frame. My face was hot with embarrassment. I hated being exposed like this. The reality of how pathetically small I was, wasn’t lost on me either. Here I stood, at my full height, barely a noticeable weight inside just one of her hands. I wanted nothing more than to go into the water now. 

She stared at me for what felt like forever. I was frozen to the spot, almost trembling with tension. Like a mantra repeated over and over, I wished for this to be over with as soon as possible. Eventually, after I had aged a lifetime, she cleared her throat, as her fingers returned to encircle my body. She started lowering me towards the water as she cooed softly, “It’ll feel so nice to be all cleaned up!” 

Her thumb was strapped across my chest while my spine was cradled by her four other fingers. I gripped onto her thumb for dear life, fearful that she’d drown me, if I didn’t hang on. The steaming water caressed my aching bones and relieved my stinging, irritated wounds. It felt good, even if I was still beside myself with fear. Then came the actual bath part. 

My eyes went glassy as I tried to go mentally elsewhere. This woman, who’d only snagged me from the snow covered ground an hour ago, was now rubbing every part of me. My heart pounded as her soapy fingers first descended. I was ready for excruciating pain as she roughed me about. Instead, she was incredibly gentle, barely putting any pressure at all and doing just enough to wash me clean, without digging into my poor ribs. She rubbed my scalp softly as she shampooed my hair. I was not used to this. This was brand new. I’d been bathed by clumsy, uncoordinated children, impatient housewives who were behind on getting dinner prepped, hungover and Xanax-laden, strung-out, alcoholics who still had cigarette ash stuck under their nails, but never, in my life, had I been carefully caressed. Her fingers in my hair actually felt… good. That was until she cupped water in her hand and started to pour it over me. I trembled each time she did this... Terrified, that she was seeking to drown me. I clung even harder to her thumb, wishing this could just be over. 

“Shhh, it’s okay, little one. It’s just water. I’m just cleaning you up….” She noticed how scared I was, and instead of laughing at me and jabbing me with a finger or pinching my face and forcing me to stare at her as she grinned wickedly down at me, she instead got even softer and more gentle. I had no idea how to process that. Was this real? Or still some kind of long form con?

Before I could ponder it further, I was being lifted out. Soon, I was surrounded by something incredibly soft and thick. A washcloth. She worked to dry me but still treated my wounds with extra caution. I caught myself staring at her, dumbfounded. Why was she being so careful with me? Why did she care? 

She went so far as to place me on the counter, bundled up, and cut bandaids to fit my small body. She bandaged me up before wrapping me back in the towel and carrying me to the living room. “There you go… good as new!” I was carefully lowered back down to the heating pad. I sat with my knees tucked into my chest and my elbows resting on top, pulling the fabric around me. She lowered herself down, her eyes bright, as she leveled her gaze to match mine. I immediately turned away, this was far more close than I was comfortable with. I squirmed under her gaze. What did she want from me? Her finger tip suddenly brushed against my head and I whimpered. She pulled away immediately. She let out a hefty sigh before rising to her feet and disappearing back into the bathroom. I needed to be very careful. I couldn’t shy away from her forever, she would become irritated with me. I would need to interact with her more if I wanted her to continue to see the value in keeping me alive. She handed me my dirty clothes and I put them on, obediently. See? I’m a good pet. I’ll behave, just please don’t hurt me. 

I gasped as I found myself suddenly snatched up in a hand. Had I done something wrong? I tried not to protest and stayed as compliant as I could, lying on the flat of my back in her open palm. Why was she grabbing things and heading towards the door? Why did she keep looking down at me with a pained expression? Where was she taking me? Was she getting rid of me? What did I do? The grind of the door knob and the click of the door opening to the frigid night air made me quake. What was going to happen to me now? 

#Nobody’s Fool #bonus chapter #g/t related #g/t community #g/t writing #giant/tiny #giant tiny #giant-tiny #g/t au #g/t angst #This poor man is so scared #he needs a hug!