#anyway despite this eyesore
Photo
happy birthday @mistress-light!
Time passes, people move. Like a river’s flow, it never ends.
#gamingedit#bayonettaedit#lozedit#deadspaceedit#ffxvedit#witcheredit#mistress-light#thelvadams.gifs#graphic design is my passion 🐸#anyway despite this eyesore#i hope you have an amazing day friend 💚
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Imagine writing a post that says "man, i hate being called lgbt and not queer" then having someone reply "I dont call myself queer because I got abused alongside the use of that name which is also literally a fucking slur that is still used as the aforementioned slur" only to reply with "its ok because if someone tells me not to call them queer personally then i won't but I will call the community as a whole, you included, queer". And not seeing that you've written something really fucking backhanded.
Funniky enough I wouldn't hate being called queer if it felt worth it, or if I was like anyone that calls themself queer in the slightest. This group is the one that said "you can't say these words because they're bad" and having everyone go along with it and then immediately go "this word isn't actually bad now, sorry girlies." I'd give less of a shit if the word queer in its current use wasn't a synonym for cunt to me.
#or a synonym for 'easy to market to' or 'punter' or 'gullible' or 'eyesore'#and then immediately follow it up with the fact that yous are all people that tried desperately to make a statement and strive for-#-individualism and then fall at the last fucking hurdle and end up in this neat little group where you are the same as everyone else.#and you end up there because its safe and its cozy#surprise bitch. being lgbt isnt nice and cosy. people should feel safe but they shouldn't fall into a fucked little hivemind where they-#-just disappear into the crowd despite working tirelessly to be quirky in whatever way#anyway. bed time I think#i clearly went fucking off it right here#not that I'm wrong or anything#lgbt#lgbt discourse#queer#queer discourse#queer is a slur#queer is a slur not that I care#not that I would have cared had it not been for the circumstance we are currently in
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What is the Accountability Archive?
(I was gonna make this an addition to another post but OP turned off reblogs while I was halfway through my deep dive so I'm making my own)
With any activism (or something trying to pass itself off as activism), especially list-making like this site, the most important question to ask is "why". What is the purpose? What do they hope to accomplish? How will this data be used?
The answer is......eh? The list is being compiled so that possibly someday some future historian might maybe think about wanting to form a committee to explore the possibility of..."understanding how 'power holders' manufacture consent". These power holders are, of course, politicians, but also journalists?, and "public figures", which is an extremely vague term. Am I a public figure? I certainly make my opinions public. So when these future researchers want to understand the nature of the current conflict, they won't need to look at the history of the region, the contemporary local politics as well as the international stage, and the personalities of the specific people involved. They'll just check out this eyesore of a website to find proof that slyandthefamilybook supports genocide. And future lawyers will be able to use this incontrovertible evidence to...sorry, to prosecute war crimes?????? Sorry, I couldn't help but laugh at that one. Well if I am on there it shouldn't be too hard to check. Surely a site called the "Accountability Archive" believes in transparency
Oh. Well. I'm sure if you pass their screening process they'll respond promptly from their encrypted archive-less email and definitely give you access. But don't worry. They have a "vision" of one day making this public. When are we the people going to be able to see the info? I want the juicy deets on who is and isn't a Zionist!
So, sometime in the future. Maybe. Probably. Well what kind of info are they collecting anyway?
Alright, seems normal so far. I appreciate that when talking about targeting of civilian populations or infrastructure they've remained impartial. I submitted a page from the ADL cataloguing US professors who celebrated Hamas' pogrom on 10/7. I will let you know how or if they respond
One thing I've noticed is the distinctly European spelling of some words like "dehumanisation" and "analyse". So who are these people even? They must have pictures, or names, or evidence of their bona fides. They claim to be "middle east experts" [sic] so surely they'll link articles they've written, or talk about degrees or accolades they've received. Something, anything to let us know that they're real serious people who know what they're talking about
Well that's......I mean that's not even an answer. You don't answer the question of "who are we" with "this is the purpose of our website". They have a Twitter, which despite being made in October 2023 (huh. weird) only made its first post in February 2024
The site itself went live on November 22, 2023, but according to Google was only certified as of 9 days ago
I'm not going to try to dig into who potentially runs the account. I don't want to doxx anyone. But this should give you an overview of what this site is and why you definitely shouldn't use it
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broken compass ; SATORU G.
in which : Satoru's a selfish man, so why can't he take your absence well?
It’s not like he was ashamed of it, he was rather aware. GOJO SATORU knew of his heart filled with greed, arrogance, words he’d probably have a hard time spelling. The same heart who loved you, and probably the same beating pulse who lost you.
“I told you so.” Suguru snickered, glancing over at Satoru whose arrogant façade and shit-eating grin was long gone the moment his messages were going green, you weren’t receiving them. And here he thought you loved receiving his messages every 2 minutes? 3 hours? Nah, it’s probably been a month since he’s replied to your previous message.
You: hey ‘toru, happy monthsary :) 9/27/2016
You: Satoru?? 9/28/2016
Satoru: yeah? (!) 11/1/2016
“God damn it” he groaned, and Satoru is…well, Satoru. In an attempt to test his luck, he texted once more. And to no surprise, it didn’t send either.
He wasn’t the only set of eyes who watched the messages turn an eyesore neon color of green, the raven-haired man sat next to him, a small grin tugging on his lips as he contained a laugh. A polar opposite in contrast to the white-haired man next to him.
“She was g’na leave anyways” Suguru shrugged, nudging Satoru in the shoulder. In his attempt to light the mood. In which Satoru’s frown deepened.
“Just find another one” Suguru spoke once more, the silent unsettling him. Despite being friends for the longest of times, it’s only now Suguru has acknowledged him in this current state. If anything, Gojo would’ve been crying to his flings about God knows what
“No, ya don’t get it” The man with covered eyes spoke, his glasses dangling off his nose as he spoke, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration, as Suguru objects to his statement.
“there’s other girls—”
“But I want her.”
And with that exclamation, the room fell silent. Leaving Suguru in disbelief, and Satoru with his head down to the palms of his hand. Even the strongest has his flaws, his emotions.
On the other hand, you’ve moved on... surprisingly! A part of you misses Satoru, more than you’d like to admit. Or would you even admit that at all?
He ghosted you, tormented you for the whole year. Probably ruined and brought a piece of you home with him. And for him to not bring you as a whole made it worse for you.
But in his conscience, loving you was easy, getting along with you was easier, losing you was dramatically ironic.
And finding you amidst of the crowd is like a muscle memory from him.
So, when his fingers tugged on the air, fiddling and practically grasping onto nothing. He wasn’t surprised, he never will be. Loving you was a muscle memory, a mental memory. Literally.
His fingers fidgeting with the hem of the pocket of his pants as his eyes pierce through the huge crowd. Knowing Satoru, he’d find you all the time amidst the crowd. That’s what you loved about him.
There’re two problems about that though, Keyword: Love and Newsflash—Satoru find’s that word an understatement, despite not knowing the word completely.
So, when he’s left with the huge crowd in the train station. It’s his own man vs society moment, his gaze ever shifting almost everywhere to find you. Hell, he doesn’t care anymore. pushing the people aside, none of them matter anyways. He’d argue if asked, because despite the people itching to get Gojo to spare a glance at them, his eyes were always set on you.
It didn’t take him long, which was surprising. Considering that it took him longer to find you than to reply to all those messages you sent back then.
He found you, you found him. despite the crowd, the tension was frightening, it screamed Satoru. Suspenseful, awkward, and cruel.
So, you turned on your heel, walking the other direction in an attempt to ignore the pair of eyes piercing through you.
“Come on, don’t be like that.” he spoke, it was loud, and loud it was. His voice like a ringing melody…on a Monday morning.
“Like what, Gojo?” You murmured to yourself, but he heard it like your voice was his only source of blood flow, the only reason his pulse would beat. And at this moment, maybe it was.
“Like I’m not here trying to say I’m fucking sorry.”
Truth be told, he loved you more than anything. Missed seeing you when he woke up, missed you being the first thing he saw when he unlocked his apartment at the evening, miss the way your hair flowed and tangled with his white hair whilst you were fast asleep. You were like an artifact, and he wasn’t the type to listen to his 7th grade social studies lectures. Because he realized. Not the other girls, not one of his girls yesterday. You. It was you.
A confused expression lighted up on your face, the same face which used to gush over his antics. God, he’s not good for your health. God bless you for having it in you to look him in the eye.
“Look—im sorry for…” His words got caught up in his throat, this was no God. This wasn’t a sorcerer who deserved the title of ‘the strongest.’ This was the emotion crisis of a god.
“Forget about it, move on.” You cut him off, your voice raising slightly as you spoke, quickening the pace of your steps.
“Hey wait, I didn’t tell you how...”
How I still think of you every night. How the moon reflects on your beauty, yet it’s telling me you’ve moved on
“I said forget about it.” You exclaimed, and it was as if a large dimension of osmium was lifted off your shoulders.
You’d like to think he was the osmium that burdened your shoulders; remarkably toxic, unhealthy and he felt like a dagger of knives clinging onto you bare.
Could you really fault him for discovering love? After all, who wouldn’t love you? You were so simple, yet complicated, comforting yet intoxicating. It made his head spin. He knows you’re convinced you’re just a mere nuisance to him. but in his perspective, you’re much more than he’s willing to admit.
But he’s going to admit all of that. When he sees you again.
But that interaction alone led you to Shoko’s headquarters, a frown on your face as she listened to you talk about your encounter.
“Men really are something.” Shoko hummed, eyes glimmering in disdain as she saw how much Satoru affected you. She wasn’t looking down on you at the slightest, she felt pure disgust over Satoru’s antics. But she can’t say she was surprised.
“I know.” You grumbled, your head resting against your knees as you spoke.
“Any chance you two would get back together?” Shoko broached about something rather sensitive, but you could never uninterest the doctor.
“..no, ‘m done.” You hurriedly replied, not bothering to elaborate any further, she can see why.
“don’t cry like that, if Satoru saw that he’d put you in an album cover for some song.”
“Shoko!”
12/23/16;
And it’s been a few days since you see Satoru, seen Shoko. Hell, have seen anyone. Working as a transcriptionist pays you well, and you don’t even have to go outside. It’s like a miracle.
But within the few days, you’ve always received flowers by your door.
“who’s this from?” you inquire, glancing up at the delivery man who seems just as clueless as you.
“..sorry ma’am, I actually don’t know.” He shrugs, flashing on a sheepish smile as his gaze fell down to the bouquet on your hand, a bouquet full of roses, with azure aster on the side, the pretty shade of blue standing out as much as the roses. No wonder they were called blue devils.
…?
It was in the name, maybe you knew who it was from.
And it went on for a few days, which turned into weeks and ranged into months. It was a draining experience.
Everyday it was a different flower, it got prettier by the day. Although, nothing from him came pretty.
and it was getting to the point where all the shelves in your apartment were filled with flowers, from pretty red roses to lilies who still look as lively as ever.
Maybe Satoru did it on purpose, you weren’t like Satoru. You let living things grow to its fullest extent. He left things to rot and die.
He wasn’t going to let you rot anymore, not even leave another scar on you at the slightest.
You haven’t received flowers from him this week. You’ve had enough, and maybe he has too, maybe you guys just need closure. You weren’t even sure if it was in a good way or not. Fumbling to get your phone from the nightstand as you unblocked his number.
And that was probably the worst thing you’ve done.
multiple messages flooded your phone, it was all from him. He’s been texting you all the while you’ve been ignoring him.
Satoru: miss ya 11/04/16
Satoru: do you like roses? 11/17/16
Satoru: 11:11pm 11/27/16
Satoru: I can’t seem to leave you alone 12/04/16
Satoru: what do ya want for xmas 12/09/16
It’s just everything you’d expect from Satoru. Texts laced with bitter genuineness. His love is inhospitable—…what are those last few?
Satoru: last message, I’ll leave you alone. Sorry for seizing the opportunity when I lost it, can ya blame me for falling in love with you? 12/23/16
Satoru: actually no, not last message. I just miss you so fucking much. 12/23/16
What does Satoru know about love? You thought to yourself. In fairness he knew how to woo women, hit them in the right spots. But he never knew how to love them genuinely. Something he was willing to learn within your guidance.
Satoru on the other hand who’s been panicking on the fact all his undelivered messages suddenly sent, he’s sulking and pacing back and forth because –what the fuck???
Yet a small glimpse of hope was shining upon his eyes, maybe you wanted to talk?
You:??? 12/23/16
Yeah, never mind. All that hope is shattered, clinking like glass onto the floor. He’s afraid to walk over it, because he’d be walking on you.
You: I miss you too 12/23/16
and that was all he needed, a few simple words and with a snap of his finger. He hauled himself into your apartment complex.
“ya miss me?” he hummed, and for the first time in months. An actual grin plastered his face. He’s disheveled, messy, not in his best state. He wants you.
“maybe.” You shrugged, tracing your marble countertop as you waited for the pan to heat up, not bothering to face him.
God, were you the prettiest. He’d swallow his pride all over again to see that pretty smile dangling off your face. His blue eyes shined with determination as he approached.
And once he got a close-up view of you, he pulled you in from behind, a soft and alluring embrace. The hard callous palm of his hand finding yours easily. He’s warm and love embraces him as much as it embraces you, in contrast to the dickhead he was a few months ago.
“I miss this, miss you.” He murmured as he buried himself on your shoulder.
“Miss the mornings where I’d see you cooking something. Or when it’s late at night and we can’t sleep so you talk about your day till you whine about being sleepy.” He thought to himself.
“..miss you too,’toru.” You spoke, and for the first time in forever. He sighed out a breathe that he didn’t even know he was holding. Like you were his source of living and he could finally bloom within your presence.
“I’m ready to try again, are you?” he whispered, his blue eyes peeking up at you from your shoulder, causing you to steal a few glances at his pretty face.
“I’m ready, as long as it’s with you.”
took me awhile but here we are bc i miss u guys><
#gojou satoru x reader#gojo satoru#jjk gojo#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk#jjk satoru#jujutsu kaisen satoru#SATORU IS A COWARD#jjk x you#jjk drabbles#jjk angst#jujutsu kaisen angst#i love u gojo
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For you, what if (au) sir night eye survives, but he can’t do a lot of serious hero work due to is injuries.
So you can think is either some domestic fluff scenarios or maybe some, spices once perhap?
YES THANK YOU sorry this took so long, i worked on this in bits over the summer since i wanted to relax (plus i was rarely at my laptop to write anyway lmao)
i was going to make this smutty but i felt burnt out so its just hurt/comfort fluff!
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Reduced
[Survived AU; Nighteye x Reader/Significant other]
[Contents: Hurt/comfort, body image issues, descriptions of scars and amputated limbs]
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Mirai was never insecure over anything about his appearance, at least not anything the public would criticize him about. Not his hair, not his wrinkles, nor his abnormally long neck, not even his permanent resting-bitch-face. Really, the only thing he was at least a little concerned about was how cold he’d come off as to others, and luckily he’d been getting better at that. Mirai never cared how he looked, as long as he was clean and professional about his appearance.
At least, that was the case. Then the Hassaikai raid happened.
As blessed as he is to even be alive, to watch the world laugh and to be able to smile back at them, he can’t deny that the injuries to his body were… quite the eyesore.
Despite being fitted with a new bionic arm to replace the one that needed to be amputated, he still had to take it off at night to sleep, causing him to stand there in the mirror and stare at the scars. Scars that weren’t just on what was left of his arm, but a giant, discolored one on both his front and back abdomen that warped the skin in crooked patterns. His partner joked lightly about it with him, saying that he matched All Might now, making him a true number one fan; and as amusing and ironic as Mirai found that, it still never lessened the lingering disgust he felt looking at the damage done to his body.
“You’re feeling insecure about it again, Mir, aren’t you?” His partner, [Name], spoke up as they closed the door to their shared bedroom, making Mirai jolt slightly in surprise. He must have forgotten to close the bathroom door before getting ready for bed, and they caught him staring at his body in the mirror after he finished brushing his teeth.
With a small sigh, Mirai pulled himself out of his thoughts and began placing his stuff back in the cabinet, bionic arm whirring softly each time his elbow joint moved. “No, just… lost in thought, is all,” he responds. It wasn’t a total lie, since he was technically thinking deeply on things - it’s just they also happened to be about his scars.
There was the soft padding of feet across the hardwood floor, disrupted only briefly then they must have walked over the rug by the bed, before Mirai saw his spouse appear in the mirror next to him. “Does it ache today? I can go get your meds,” they offered, placing a reassuring hand on his right, non-injured shoulder.
“No, I’ve been surprisingly fine this week,” Mirai says as he closes the cabinet gazing at [Name] through the mirror, a small, relaxed smile on his face. They really have been such a help during his healing and his adjustment to living without an arm. While Mirio, Toshinori, and his crew back at the agency were also helpful and accommodating, he couldn’t help but feel as if they were… pitying him, almost.
But [Name]... they didn’t pity him.
They showed him true sympathy and compassion, while letting him do what he still could without babying him all the time. Being a Pro-Hero themselves, they knew how humiliating it is to be waited on hand-and-foot when one is injured so severely. They were his grounding force throughout his few years of healing, even going so far as to check in on him back at his agency, now that he was back in the workforce - likely to make sure he wasn’t doing any fieldwork, and stuck purely to his office. Normally he’d get annoyed if someone was constantly barging in to ‘check on him’, but with [Name], he’s come to love their daily visits to his office. Sometimes it was to have lunch with him, other times it was just to chat and have a break from hero work, often still in their hero suit.
Mirai couldn’t ask for a better way to spend his work days.
“You’re thinking again, love,” [Name]’s voice cuts through his memories, bringing him back to the present where they both stood in their pajamas in the florescent light of their shared bathroom. Despite staring at his shirtless, scarred torso, he found that none of his thoughts were actually about the injury at all.
“Just thinking of you,” Mirai hums in response, turning his head to press a kiss to his spouse’s forehead. “And how much of a mess I would be without you here to help me.”
They give him a warm smile, their hand gripping his shoulder softly in reassurance. “Good, just think about that anytime you start to feel bad about your scars. That’s what your therapist said to do, right? Make positive correlations instead?” [Name] reminds him, moving out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom. “Now let's get some rest, we both have to be up early tomorrow.”
Taking one last look in the mirror, Mirai lets out a deep breath before turning and following his spouse back to their shared bed. He takes a seat on his side of the bed, reaching over with his good arm to undo the straps and mechanics of his bionic arm, letting out a quiet grunt of frustration when one of the clasps wouldn’t budge from the angle he was reaching at. Despite it being only a couple years since his injury, they were still trying to perfect a permanent prosthetic arm for him, one with the capabilities to allow him use of his quirk through touch. Something like that required time and dedicated work for it to be successful.
Before Mirai could become even more frustrated at the straps he spent years clasping and unclasping on his own, he felt a gentle touch against his shoulder blade where the clasp was, and pressure of the strap suddenly lifted as the bionic arm came loose to expose the scarred end of his upper arm.
“You looked like you needed some help,” [Name]’s voice speaks up from behind him, soft and quiet to fit the calm atmosphere that the night always seemed to bring when they were getting ready for bed. “Sorry if you didn’t need it. You just seemed to be getting frustrated.”
Carefully placing his bionic arm in a special case next to the bed, Mirai gives his spouse an appreciative hum. “I was, so thank you,” he replies, sitting back up with a sigh. “It seems even now, fully healed, I still need help with the dumbest things that I should have perfected by now,” he mumbled, mostly to himself, but [Name] could hear him loud and clear.
They move closer to him from their side of the bed, wrapping their arms around his torso and resting their head against his shoulder, careful of his injury despite it being healed. “It’s okay to need help, even when you’ve mastered a skill or task,” [Name] says to him, their voice muffled slightly by his shoulder. “No one is perfect at anything, not even someone who spent their entire lives mastering something. Everyone needs assistance at some point, and it’s in our nature to help. You suffered a terrible injury that left you handicapped, when all your life you’ve gotten used to using both hands to do things.”
Feeling Mirai tense a little beneath their hold, they press a reassuring kiss to his shoulder blade. “But that doesn’t make you broken, or stupid, or useless, or unable to perform the tasks you used to. Adjusting to life with one less limb when you’ve grown up with all of them is insanely hard, and I can barely imagine what it’s like. Now look at me, Mir,” [Name] continues, lifting their head so that they can gaze up at their husband’s face.
When they saw those golden iris’ peer down at them after a moment, [Name] gives him a warm smile. “No matter how small or lame the task, I’m always more than willing to help you. I will never think any less of you for what you are or aren’t able to do anymore, because I love and care about you. You are my husband - my soulmate, Mirai. No matter what happens to you, I’ll still love you, so, so much,” their words slowly trailed off into a soft mumble, nuzzling their face against his neck as Mirai leans his head down to the side to rest atop of his spouse’s.
“Even if I’m a burden?” He mutters, voice uncharacteristically low and fragile.
“You’re not a burden,” [Name] reminds him, their embrace tightening ever so slightly. “Not to me. Not to anyone. I’d wait on you hand and foot for the rest of eternity and not once feel like you’re burdening me at all.”
Their voice started to wobble, and Mirai could feel a few tears gently gliding across his shoulder and back.
“I almost lost you,” [Name] choked out. “I’ll do anything to make sure you’re comfortable and safe. I fear that if I don’t- that if I don’t appreciate every moment you’re still here with me, then I’ll never get the chance, because I never know if one day you’ll just be gone,” they take in a small, stuttered breath, their hold on Mirai loosening as he carefully turns to face them.
His brows were furrowed in concern, his right arm coming up to gently touch the side of their face, the tips of his fingers brushing away a few stray tears. “I’m not going anywhere,” he starts with, voice low and comforting in a way no one would believe would come from the notoriously stoic Sir Nighteye. “I’ve retired from on-field duty, and like you said, my health is only improving,” Mirai says as he leans in to press a comforting kiss to [Name]’s forehead. He never realized they were holding in such a burden, constantly fretting that he one day might just keel over, or have his existence wiped away during what should have been a simple rescue mission. It made his heart heavy knowing that they were suffering from such anxiety while caring for him, yet it flattered him in a sense to know they cared about him just as much as he cared about them, too.
“I survived a stone spear through my torso and arm - God himself will have to kill me if he wishes to separate us.” That got a breathy chuckle out of his partner, Mirai himself smiling at the small victory. He loathed seeing loved ones cry, especially the person whose laugh and smiles always made his day that much better.
[Name] brings a hand up to wipe at their tears, giving Mirai a grin, although a bit melancholy. “Exactly. So please, Mir, don’t think for a second that I would love you any less than before that terrible day, okay?” They say to him, hands reaching over to gently grip both his shoulders from behind. “I don’t mind taking care of you, especially when you need it the most. It’s okay to need help with something you can’t safely do yourself. I can’t tell you how many times I needed you to reach for something because I knew I’d likely get hurt trying to get to it myself,” they joke lightly with him in an attempt to lighten the mood once more. It was successful, if the tiny snort from Mirai was anything to go by. “I know that’s not as comparable to losing an entire arm, but you get the idea.”
Mirai gives them a grateful smile, placing another kiss to the top of their head. With that conversation over, and the two both physically and mentally exhausted from the days events, a well deserved sleep was in order.
Cuddled up to each other in bed, Mirai waited until his spouse’s breathing evened out, signaling that they fell into a peaceful sleep. He slowly maneuvers himself so that his face could press against the top of their head, his arm holding them close.
“Thank you,” he whispers, rubbing soothing motions against their skin. “For everything.”
#bnha x reader#mha x reader#sir nighteye x reader#mirai sasaki x reader#sasaki mirai x reader#sir nighteye#mirai sasaki#Anonymous#dame writes
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Fan Prize Story #3: Finding the Way Back
Chapter I
Masterlists
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Chapter Summary
Cal doesn't return from a mission forcing you to venture out into the Kashyyyk jungle to rescue him and face your greatest fears.
Rating: 18+
Words: 1.2K
This story was made for @angeldarkness95
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The heat of the explosion forces sweat to bead along your forehead, dampening your neat hair. It was closer than you would have liked, but your reddened skin remains unburned. You smile at the flames engulfing the wretched Imperial base; it was an eyesore anyway.
Something tugs at your mind, reminding you that this mission was a dual effort, bringing your attention to Cal. “That’s odd…”
Fear consumes you, urging you to rush to aid Cal, but you push away the lies. You cannot believe such trivial feelings, only facts are reliable. Cal completed his portion of the mission, since the base blew up so spectacularly. He is on his way back to the ship, just like you.
You shake your head and begin the journey back towards the Mantis. Cal must return from the opposite end of the base, where he completed his portion of the mission. Despite the tugging in your head, you keep your thoughts on getting back to the ship. Cal will meet you there.
You speak aloud to your worry, hoping to rest the fear. “It’s probably nothing.”
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It takes over half an hour to get back, even keeping your pace at a light jog. As you enter the loading door, Greez and Cere look up from their seats at the table.
You flash them a victory smile and glance around your current housing, grateful to be away from the wildlife. “Mission complete! Did Cal beat me back?”
Cere raises her dark eyebrows. “Cal has not returned yet.”
You shrug and sit on the bench seating in the middle of the craft, enjoying the downtime while Cal makes his way back. You suspect Cal’s return will take twice as long as yours, assuming he doesn’t get distracted. “I’m sure he’ll be here soon. BD probably ran off to scan something.”
Cere joins you and sits at the opposite end. “I hope you’re right. He’s not late…yet.”
You chuckle. “You know how Cal is, always getting distracted by something.”
You pass the downtime with your feet resting on the center table, enjoying peace after exerting yourself all afternoon. Blowing up an Imperial base is easy enough, like taking clams from a Gungan. The bucketheads stand out against the greenery of the forest, making them easy to target.
The difficulty was the dangerous fauna, which blends into the landscape, hiding from view, using the element of surprise as its chief advantage. You shudder at the thought of the multi legged creatures; the recent memory making your skin crawl.
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You lower your feet, boots sounding on the grated floor as it becomes clear Cal is actually late. Cere makes multiple efforts to reach him on the comms, but radio static is the only response. You take up leaning against the loading door frame, surveying the edge of the forest for Cal’s unlikely return.
Guilt creeps in, pondering if the tug in your mind had been a warning of Cal’s inevitable absence. You reject the notion, reminding yourself that you cannot trust in the Force anymore. It has failed you in your time of need, and you won’t be so foolish twice. Minutes drag by and you find it difficult to relax, despite your statuesque frame in the doorway.
Cere joins you, worry etched on her forehead. “We still can’t reach Cal on the comms. Kashyyyk does an excellent job blocking our signals.”
Greez’s voice rings out from the kitchen. “Kid, did you see anything out there?”
You answer Greez too loud, nearing overly defensive. “No! I mean, Cal definitely completed his part of the mission, or the explosion wouldn’t have been so spectacular.”
He raises two palms in a mock shrug. “How ‘bout the Force? You can feel each other through it, right?”
Your face heats at the thought of feeling Cal under any circumstances, causing you to stutter your attempted response.
Cere interrupts. “That’s not exactly how it works, Greez.”
“Well, what do I know? I’m just the guy who takes care of all you Jedi. You could at least fill me in on how it works.”
Cere joins Greez in the kitchen, attempting to explain the Force. You’d find comfort in their banter if icy dread wasn’t washing over you. Absent minded, you pull your favorite stylus out of your pocket and spin it to soothe the discomfort of worry.
You wonder if you were wrong to ignore the tug, if you’re too late now. Eyes closing and breathing slowly through your nose, you push aside the endless array of outcomes. Your mind, a creature of habit, attempts to slip into meditation, but you don’t allow it. Only focusing on your breathing and keeping one foot in the present.
You stare at the tree line, willing Cal’s appearance to put an end to the internal suffering in your mind. He doesn’t, and each second wears on you.
What if he’s horribly injured, or worse, dead? Regret seeps in, knowing that you didn’t tell him the truth about your feelings. How he takes your breath away when he stands too close, or how your heart flutters when he cracks a joke in his low and husky voice.
Finally, you succumb to the panic, moving into the ship to retrieve a supply bag, tossing your favored item into its depths. Cere and Greez perk up, watching you with interest.
You spare them a glance as you move methodically to ensure the bag is well stocked. “I’m going to go look for him. He’s been gone too long.”
Cere nods. “Stay safe out there. The Kashyyyk forest is dangerous. Keep your eyes up.”
You press your lips together. “I’ve got this. I’ll bring back Cal in one piece.”
She gives you a tight-lipped smile, standing to bid you goodbye. “May the Force be with you.”
You don’t acknowledge the language and exit the ship.
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As you enter the web of trees, your ears attune to the roar of life around you: chirping, screeches, and rustling from above. The noise puts you on high alert, each hair on your body standing on end. The heightened state forces you into paranoia; keeping a hand on your lightsaber and jumping at shadows, fearing the worst. Though it is not the perils of the jungle that terrify you, but the man awaiting your rescue.
You had a lover, a normal life, years after the purge. He had meant everything to you, but it’s clear you did not hold equal value in his heart.
Adrenaline courses through your veins at the memory and the dangerous terrain. You focus hard to calm your breathing, but the longer you go without meditation, the more difficult controlling your body and mind has become.
You speak aloud in a low tone, trying to soothe yourself as one might soothe a child. “It’s not a big deal. Cal’s fine. Nothing happened to him.”
Your mind takes the words and runs in a different direction, making you aware of the possibility that Cal is, in fact, luring you deep into the woods to betray you. If one man could betray your love and trust, why wouldn’t another? Perhaps it’s your fate to be cast aside for a richer opportunity, to feel the flame of love and burn in its heat.
Your feelings for Cal are likely blinding you to his true nature. His good looks are a distraction; his muscular form, his flaming hair, his kind eyes.
“No! Cal wouldn’t do that…I hope…”
The image of his eyes crinkled as he laughs at your joke, flashes before your eyes. He wouldn’t, would he? You want to believe the best in him, but you grip your lightsaber hilt tight as you move through the jungle.
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#HereForTheFanficsAndRomanceWorks#Cal Kestis x Reader#Cal Kestis x You#Jedi Fallen Order#Jedi Survivor#Jedi Fallen Order Fanfiction#Jedi Fallen Order Fanfic#Jedi Fallen Order Fic#Jedi Survivor Fanfiction#Jedi Survivor Fanfic#Jedi Survivor Fic#Fallen Order Fanfiction#Fallen Order Fanfic#Fallen Order Fic#Star Wars Fanfiction#Star Wars Fanfic#Star Wars Fic#Cal Kestis Smut#Jedi Fallen Order Smut#Fallen Order Smut#Jedi Survivor Smut#Star Wars Smut#Cal Kestis/Reader#Cal/Reader#Spotify
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Idle thoughts on the way cities should be able to function and overreliance on corporations to do civic good, but...
So the mayor of New York's proposed budget cuts would eliminate, among other things, our community composting programs and weekly collection sites. This doesn't mean I can't drop off my compost anymore; there's a local grocery store with a brown bin who let me if I ask (they have before when I had to miss our Friday collection slot because I was working), but it does feel extra weird and obnoxious to do a year before compost collection is going to become mandatory city-wide anyway.
And I have electronic waste I need to drop off somewhere. The city doesn't do regular e-waste pickup, despite also forbidding this stuff from being thrown in the regular garbage. There's a special collection event that comes to my neighborhood like twice a year. I can virtually never make it because I'm always working on Saturday mornings.
I used to be able to take my e-waste to Best Buy, but the one reasonably close to me closed this past year and now I'm just stuck with this stuff in my apartment until I figure out where else to take it.
A few years before the pandemic, a luxury housing/commercial development opened just south of my neighborhood, with tons of chain and big box stores that everyone was very, very excited about and I thought from the beginning were eyesores and also just entirely the wrong direction for the neighborhood to be going--Modell's, Michael's, a Bareburger, a Walgreen's, Sephora, Ann Taylor Loft... and yeah, some of the time they made shopping easier. I avoided them, but can't honestly say I never used them.
Fully half of them closed in the pandemic. Because they actually had no stakes in the neighborhood!
And it's not that I don't want Best Buy or Madewell, etc. to do electronic and denim recycling! But they become the go-to resources for doing it, so the city government doesn't make provisions for it, and then they pack up and leave because they never actually considered themselves part of the neighborhood...
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Handshake on also being a petunia hater by the way! I'm not really impressed by those guys either. For me I think it's just the way they're bred to be so big, the petals just get floppy and shapeless.
Are there any woody plants you think get overhyped in your local landscaping industry? When I lived further south mine was crepe myrtle but thankfully my winters are too tough for them, mwahaha!
Ok no but seriously. Let's talk about how horrible Crape Myrtles actually are; how, despite the fact their average cold hardiness is 0f, they're still hilariously (ironically) cold intolerant, and are really unsuited for half the areas they're sold for -- But how garden centers and nurseries (big box centers, especially) push them so hard anyways, despite this ... And so you just wind up with a bunch of incredibly ugly, half dead bush tree things everywhere as a result (because they also just don't grow right in half of these areas, either).
Let's also talk about how, for some reason, everyone who actually buys one always plants them in the worst damned locations somehow, and they never account for any kind of spread. And they never even care for them properly, either, on top of it. So they're not only frequently public nuisances or actively damaging to structures, etc, they're also often unhealthy, and usually really bad eyesores.
Because it's true. And literally nothing is uglier than a half dead Crape Myrtle that dies back more and more each year. Except, maybe, the Crape Myrtles that get trimmed into those weird false tree shapes. Those are so ugly to look at; I don't know why some people prune them that way- and it does absolutely nothing for their cold tolerance.
If I never saw another poorly maintained, half dead Crape Myrtle in Oklahoma (which is pretty much every one of them here) I'd be so happy 🤣
#birchwood-path#Answered Asks#2024 Asks#Gardening Asks#2024#Gardening#Gardenblr#Plantblr#Oklahoma#Green Witch#Green Witchcraft#Disabled Gardener
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Day 1:
A loud bang jerks me from my sleep. I look around, disoriented as I fumble for the clock. It takes me a moment to read the hands. 7 am. Another slam against the wood makes me throw the blanket back.
“I’m coming!” I holler, rubbing my eyes. “Gods above, who the fuck,” I cut myself off with a yawn as I trudge down the hall to my front door. I open the door scruffy and sleep wrinkled and blink once. Twice. There’s soldiers at my door, a flash of metal behind them. “What the fuck is that thing doing here,” I mutter, squinting at the towering steel watch automaton. Hated the bloody things.
“Excuse me?” I turn at the offended tone. The soldier in front crosses their arms.
“It’s 7 am,” I grumble and they roll their eyes. I nearly flinch back when they suddenly hold out an envelope, the paper cracking with the movement. I frown as I slowly take it from them. The letter has a seal. The Lord’s seal.
“Lord Gortash requests your presence at Wyrm’s Rock.”
.
I open the letter as I eat breakfast. I have to read it a few times. Apparently the Lord needed his portrait done, and I was the painter to do it. The eggs feel dry in my mouth as dread starts to take root in my gut.
.
“You are to behave while in audience with the Lord. Address him by title, be respectful and agreeable. You are not the first artist to come in.” The attendant looks over her shoulder at me. “Pray you leave with all of your,” they glance at my hands, “tools.”
.
I stood outside the fortress, supply bag in hand, as I reread the summons. The letter said an easel and canvas would be supplied. I hoped for their quality. I barely knock before the doors swing open and a sharp faced drow stands before me. Her face pinches as she looks me over. “Cutting it close.” She mutters and turns quickly away. “This way.”
She listed off rules as I struggled to keep up with her. I’m begging to catch my breath after four long hallways and two disgustingly tall staircases. The woman looks at me annoyed, but reluctantly pauses to allow me a moment. I thank her and she nods before turning to continue down the short hall. We don’t go far before she stops in front of a door. Hand on the knob she looks at me, tense.
“Goodluck.” She pushes open the door and ushers me through. The click of the latch behind me feels like a nail in a coffin. Looking around the room I take in the cavernous room. It’s a lounge or study of some sort, big tall windows. The lord himself sits in a big stuffed chair, feet propped up and already watching. I resist a step back. Uncertain of what to do, I bow slightly before cautiously stepping forward.
“Uh, greetings, m’lord.” I say and glance at the covered easel looming to one side. Gods it’s big. I turn back to the man. Discomfort runs down my spine as he slowly looks me over, humming as he settles back on my face. “Thank you for your request.” I swallow, trying to be careful with my words. “I’m, honored, by your consideration.” His filigree hand clicks as he taps his fingers. I fidget a moment before he finally stands, unhurried as he steps closer.
“Yes well, let’s hope the honor is deserved.” His comment makes me bristle but I keep a straight face. Rud. “I need a portrait done, something grand, something fitting of the hero of Baldur's Gate.” He gestures with his hands as he walks around me, circling like a starved hyena. It makes my hair raise. He stops in front of me. “Do you think yourself up to the task?”
“Yes, I will do my best, m’lord” I reply, tight and toneless. It’s not like I had much of a choice anyway. Despite his attempts at sugarcoating his character in the papers, I’d heard plenty about him.
We take a seat, him in a cushioned eyesore and me on the stool I’d been provided. He describes what he wants in surprising detail, a few pages worth of notes. I’m silently grateful for the specifics. Made my job a lot easier. I do a couple of thumbnails, sketching out options as he hovers over my shoulder, pointing out flaws and having me start over till he’s satisfied. Despite my annoyance, I have to admit he has a good eye.
He finally grows bored of watching as I prep the canvas, picking up a book and a glass of wine. I apply the clean base, layer and sanding, layer and sanding, till the surface is smooth. I’d never grown to like canvas texture.
It takes me 30 minutes to sketch in his figure. A green wash over the top. He hums as I start with the color. I glance at him to find looking at the canvas. His eyes flick to me.
“The others used a brown base layer,” he says, voice tinged with suspicion.
“I like green better.” He huffs and nods before returning back to his pose.
The first day passes slowly but by the end I’m settled into the project. I look him over. He may be a narcissistic tyrant but at least he wasn’t too bad to look at.
Day 2:
I relax surprisingly quickly into the process when we start again on the second day. He’s difficult for sure, but in a petulant prideful way. It makes me want to laugh more than anything.
“My arm’s sore.” I swallow a sigh as I glance at his face from where I’d been working. A smirk is tugging at his lips and I feel my mouth press into a line. It’d been 10 minutes. I looked at the arm in question where it lay, resting comfortably on the armrest of his chair.
“Maybe shifting your arm would help, I can work on a different area while you do so.” I smile, though it barely brushes my eyes. His eyebrow ticks up at my response, and I pick up my paint brush again. “If that’s alright with you, m’lord.”
The title is starting to feel like an insult on my tongue.
.
The underpainting is finished by the eve of the second day, and as I gather my coats to leave, I pause at the look the lord gives me. He seems to think for a moment, but turns, waving his hand. The dismissal makes my eyes roll and I make my exit.
The slam of the fortress door behind me makes me flinch. Huffing, I toss a glance at the mechanical soldiers guarding each side before starting off towards home. The sky is starting to purple like an old bruise, bleeding orange. Outside of the shadow of that oppressive rock, I take a moment to bask in the fading light. I take a breath, then another, and start off again.
I debate going straight home, longing for the soft embrace of my bed, but find my feet leading to the local bar. I step through, legs on autopilot as I melt into one of the bar stools. Xander the barkeep gives me a glance and I raise my hand in greeting.
“You look… tired.” He says as he sidles over, picking up a glass to dust off. His teasing gaze makes me snort.
“Fuck you, I am,” I mutter, smiling gratefully as he sets the clean tumbler in front of me. “You’d never believe where I’ve been spending my days. And will be for the near future.” I scrub a hand over my face. “Fuckin hells what have I gotten myself into.” Xander laughs as he thunks an amber bottle on the counter top.
“How much trouble can a painter get into?” He asks and I resist a groan, hiding my face in my hands.
“Enough to catch the attention of the High Lord Gortash himself,” I sneer the name, looking up at him pleadingly. “I’m gonna need a few glasses after spending the day in his blessed presence.” I whine and mope as he fills my glass. He lets the quiet linger.
“You haven’t, done anything, have you?” I bark a laugh.
“Nothing but my fuckin job. You’re about as social as I get.” I slump against the polished wood of the bar. “I don’t even know if he’s paying me? The whole thing is a mess of vague metaphors and barely veiled threats. You know how our lord loves his flowery words.” I joylessly swirl my drink. The ice clinks softly against the glass. Xander has fallen silent.
“Just look after yourself, don’t do anything stupid,” I look up with a retort on my tongue but the worry furrowing his brows gives me pause. I nod and he shifts in place. “Well, more stupid than usual.” He smiles, trying to diffuse the tension and I groan, turning away playfully.
“Yeah yeah,” I snark, waving my hand to shoo him off. “Go on, don’t you have customers?” He snaps the small dishcloth in my direction and turns away.
“Maybe a few you haven’t scared off.” He throws over his shoulder and I sigh, settling back into my seat. The drink goes down slow and I try to savor it, already bracing for the next day.
Day 3
”What’s your name?” The attendant startles ahead of me, turning to raise a perfectly sculpted brow in my direction.
“What, why?” She stops and I feel unsure of my question.
“I see you every day, I just thought,” I sigh, looking away from her. “Nevermind.” We continue down the hall. As she stops in front of the final door she surveys me.
“My name is Lorelei.” Her voice is softer as she speaks, tipping her head toward the door, “Goodluck.” Then guides me through. I stand a moment after the door shuts. I hadn’t expected her to answer, the name rolling around in my head.
“You just going to stand there?” I snap my head towards the voice. Gortash is already sitting by the easel and I shake my head.
“Sorry I, sorry m’lord.” I walk briskly over, shedding my coat and folding it. He’s unusually quiet as I set up and settle into my seat. I twist open the small jar of turpentine, refreshing my oils and look up. I can't quite read his face but I brush it off, “Are you ready to start, m’lord?” I ask, voice a practiced calm and he hums.
“Are you?” He mutters, settling into his chair and I resist biting back. I nod, not trusting my voice and cautiously step forward.
“Your garments need adjusting to match the sketch,” I speak slowly, unsure of what to do. He keeps quiet, relaxing further and flicking his fingers. It’s as much of a go ahead as I’m going to get. As I step into his space, goosebumps break out over my arms, something telling me to keep back. I swallow and carefully reach out, stopping a short distance away. “May I? M’lord?” I look at him, just to the side of his gaze. It feels dangerous to meet it, charged. I see a smirk spread across his lips making my hairs raise. He nods again, silent, Gods I wish he would speak. He’s even more unnerving when he’s quiet.
He watches me as I fuss over him, gently raising his arm to pose it against the armrest, tugging at the sleeve to make it drape properly. I try not to let my touches linger. I glance back and forth between him and the painting as I work. He seems to enjoy my discomfort, especially as I hesitate touching his gauntlet. It is cold and sharp, a sudden shock of magic tingling my fingers. It makes me flinch and I scowl as Gortash snickers, grabbing his arm again with more force than I’d usually use, quickly positioning his arm. His laugh fades, cut off in surprise as I do and I hesitate adjusting the sleeve. When he does nothing I relax, draping the fabric how I need and moving up his sleeve to the shoulder. I straighten out the edge, smoothing a few wrinkles.
The coat is different from his usual garb. A deep dusky purple, velvet. It’s silky soft and I admittedly love the feel of it. The high split sleeves separate with a gold and black embroidered lace hem. I’ve always liked clothes, the finer things in life, and this? It’s long, sporting a forked end. The embroidery throughout, small beads glimmering. He still has a barely closed shirt beneath. Black silk, useless buttons I doubt he’s ever used.
His watchful eyes feel uncomfortable when I pull the lapels of his jacket in place, recreating the wrinkles by his waist and down where it flows over the chairs edge. Kneeling beside the decadent seat, I sit back to check my reference, fidgeting with the fabric. I make the mistake of looking up to find his eyes already fixed on my face, nervously giving him a reflexive pinched smile that I scold myself for when I look away again. Time drags its feet in slow agonizing steps. But as I finally straighten and glance pleadingly at the clock, only 6 minutes have passed. I frown at the blasted thing and return to my seat with a sigh. As I settle I hear him scoff, but when I shoot a look up at him he’s looking away. I squint, noting what looks suspiciously like a pout on his rough face.
.
I roll my shoulders, leaning back to look over the portrait. Colors blocked in, I admire the rough angular shapes. The large jacket drapes beautifully, showing its cost in the soft sheen of the fabric. I set my brush down and glance up. I take a moment to stretch my wrists as I compare my work to my model. I go to search for his gaze.
“Would you be amenable to a break in an hour, m’lord? I can finish your left sleeve by then, giving you use of that arm.” I wait, arms crossed, for his response as he lifts his gaze to look at me. His gaze alone is condescending. He glances at the painting and I try not to let it get to my head at his apparent approval of my work.
“I suppose I can wait.” he replies, but his annoyance feels performative. I ignore it and nod, continuing. He’s looking off to the side for most of the hour. I’m surprised by the disappointment that washes over me. ‘No, absolutely not. Fuckin stupid behavior.’ I tell myself. I finish working on the quilted fabric, relaxing as I cross my arms. I feel quite proud of the finished product and look towards the lord.
“Done, m’lord.” He finally looks in my direction again and I carefully turn the easel towards him. I slip off my chair and arch my back in a stretch, the twinge making me wince and I curse quietly. I step towards the side table beside him where water and wine await me. There’s a few snacks as well that I eye, tearing my gaze away as I straighten and look at Gortash. “Hungry or thirsty?” I prepare to pour it myself, trying to minimize his movements. Less for me to fix.
His eyes are dark, near black pitch. They make me want to fidget, reminding me of a shark. He’s got an odd expression on his face as he looks up at me. Annoyance sparks at his silence, lingering when he finally breaks it.
“Both.” His voice seems rougher.
“Water or Wine?” I move the platter of foods within his reach as he requests wine. I pour his glass and hand it to him, avoiding his persistent eyes. He has to relish in my discomfort. Bastard. I turn to the second glass and pour myself some water, taking a large mouthful. I let out a breath and nick a few grapes from his plate before meandering back to my seat. I look up as I pop one of the fruits in my mouth. He’s staring at me, a slow grin spreading on his face. He pointedly looks at the fruit and back at me. I just give him a tight smile in return before turning away… Maybe taking the fruit was presumptuous but it was too late by this point.
.
Most of the coat is done just as the sun begins to set. I clean my brush and set it aside, standing and turning the easel once more.
“Done for the day, m’lord.” I state as I begin cleaning up, closing the turpentine, any still open tubes. I hear him stand and turn to watch him stand in front of my painting. I wait for his reaction, smiling as looks pleased. His eyes slide over to me.
“Well done,” he hums, glancing back at the piece. “Even just the sketch has impressive likeness.” I blink at the compliment, flustered for a moment. He sounded genuine. Odd.
“Thank you.” I dip my head in a slight bow, turning to gather my things but he stops me with a question.
“You are skilled for someone of your age.” His eyes flicker over me, making me shift my weight. “Have you studied?” It takes me a moment to come up with a reply.
“Briefly, lost the privilege before long. But it was something I enjoyed, was good at, so I practiced on my own. Was a barkeep till I finally started profitin’ off all this if you can believe it.” I smile to myself, surprised at the ease of my words. Even more so by the warmth I feel at his chuckle.
“Yes, I can.” He says it like an insult and I jokingly scoff, tempted to bite back but holding my tongue. “I look forward to seeing you finish.” His phrasing gives me pause, but his face remains that same off expression. I hum and bend down to gather my coat. I catch his eyes track the movement from my peripheral, it feels like a physical touch down my spine- I straighten quickly and clear my throat, annoyed that he doesn’t even try to hide his leer. Tired and mildly peeved I snap my fingers and point up in a quick motion, only then does he meet my eyes again.
“I would appreciate a semblance of professionalism, m’lord.” I force a smile and tilt my head slightly. I feel a touch of regret as his expression shifts to sharp annoyance. I straighten as he slowly steps closer. Suddenly feeling like a hare before a beast. I have to tip my head back slightly as he stops an arms length away. I lock my knees to stop stepping back.
“Oh? Would you?” He steps around me, circling and I swallow the dread balling in my throat. Should have kept my fucking mouth shut. “And would you consider your tone to be professional?” I open my mouth to reply but flinch instead as his clawed gauntlet brushes my back. The magic crackles across my skin and I clench my teeth tight. “Shh, don’t say sorry, I don’t mind a little showing of teeth. So long as you don’t bite.” He lets the metal ends dig in, pricking me through the fabric of my dress. My breath stutters as I break out in a cold sweat. I can feel him smiling, the fear tipping into something like rage. It heats my skin, a flicker of magic in my chest. The disused spark surprises me, something I’d thought lost. It tingles down my arms and I clench my fists as I feel it settle in my fingers. A new worry joins the first. He seems to notice my shift in demeanor, moving to walk around to my front, his claws still on my skin, they drag.
I quickly step forward just enough to lose his touch and half turn to face him. I work my jaw, taking a small centering breath. It doesn’t work.
“It’s getting late, m’lord.” I try to smile but I’m worried it comes out as a grimace. I feel my palms crackle under the cover of my jacket and take another step back. This wasn’t, good. “I’d best be off.” His hand is still slightly raised. He looks mildly suspicious and I fidget in place. As bad as I want to leave, I know slipping without his response would be unwise.
“What? Sure, yeah, right.” He’s struggling to find words and I don’t give him the time to. I dip my head in a short bow and slip out of the room. I find my own way out, ignoring Lorelei sputtering behind me as I take the steps as fast as I respectably can.
The cobblestone feels uncomfortably loud under my feet. Quick uneven steps as I weave my way through the lingering crowd. I turn down the first alley I see, leaning against the wall to catch my breath. I slowly uncover my hands from where they’d been fisted in my coat. Sparks dance over my palms, making my skin prickle.
“Fuck.” I rub my hands together, hoping to diffuse the energy. Looking to the floor, I bend down and dig up a few weeds. The magic arcs as I tear them from the root, shriveling and greying near instantly. Fuck. When the plants finally stop dying I rock back to sit on my heels. Inspecting my palms, slowly picking the dirt. I hadn’t thought about my curse in years, I’d stopped keeping track.
My mother had told me there was a devil somewhere in our line. A devil of shadow and death, not something as simple as horns. I think she had been afraid to name a god. That every so often, some unlucky babe is kissed with blight. Born to suck the life out of everyone around them. Though that last bit was probably a bit dramatized coming from the woman who thought I was her own curse. My birth had been rough, complicated. Left her with pieces missing. Her womb had withered as I grew, when I came into this world I came as the one and only child she would ever be able to conceive. Drove her mad, that she was stuck with me.
.
I half heartedly eat a few random things before I head to clean up for bed. I’m anxious throughout the night. Sleep does not come easy.
I wake unrested and groan, grateful the lord would be too busy to sit for his portrait till later in the day. I try to sleep longer, but I just end up laying there, picking through the flare up over and over again. The only catalyst I can think of is his damn gauntlet. It had to be some sort of conduit with that odd purple stone. Something felt off about it, familiar.
I get dressed and make my way to the nearest spell shop, thin gloves in hand.
“I need a nullification spell.” I set the gloves on the counter, pushing them towards the young wizard. “On these, please.” The tiefling glances at the accessory and back to me.
“Who they for?” She asks, and I glance up from where I’m digging for my coin purse.
“Me, they’re for me. Unruly spark, worried it’ll get me in trouble.” I laugh and glance to the side. She’s nodding, carefully picking up the gloves.
“How strong?”
“As strong as you can make it.”
Day 5:
He doesn’t mention the gloves. Not out loud at least, he stares plenty. I could care less, relieved that as I cautiously touch the gold filigree decorating his arms, only the faintest buzz tingles over my arms. As the sensation trails down it dissolves into the soft leather covering my hands. It leaves me in better spirits than I’d woken with. Painting comes smoothly and two hours in I’m calm and focused.
“You ran off quite quickly yesterday.” I pause in my brushstroke, glancing to meet his eyes, then away again.
“It was late, m’lord.” When I peek at him I find him inspecting my gloves. The leather creaks as I grip my brush.
”Ah, yes. Of course.” He catches me looking. I hate that I flush as I look away. “It’s coming along quite well,” he hums, as if trying to keep up conversation. I look at the painting, nearly done with his clothes, starting on the chair where it peaks from under his flowing robes. I hum.
“I’m quite pleased, m’lord. More so that you agree.”
We take a break when I finish painting his vestments. He leans over to the table near him before I can stand, pouring two glasses of wine. The action gives me pause and I watch him with a raised brow. He takes a sip from one, impatiently gesturing for me to take the other. I step forward carefully.
“M’lord?”
“Take the bloody wine.” He’s starting to frown and I rush to do as he says, eyeing the alcohol. He sits back with a sigh, swallowing another mouthful, the red staining his lips. I curse myself for looking. I raise my own glass and watch the dark wine swirl, breathing in its aroma. It smells expensive. “It’s not poisoned.” I look up at him pointedly as I take a slow sip. It’s rich and surprisingly sweet.
“I’m simply enjoying the luxury,” I tease and shift in place, wandering over to the food and looking it over. He watches me with a growing smirk, crossing his legs. The fabric of his pants pull tight over his thighs at the action. I roll my eyes to hide the way they settle on him.
“Just the one?” He asks mockingly, smiling over the brim of his glass. I snort and make a show of looking the plate over.
“What can I say,” I shrug as I select a few small fruits, popping one in my mouth. “I’ve got luxurious tastes.” I say after swallowing the sweet treat. Gods if it wasn’t true, I wished I could afford the things the lord was served so carelessly. I salivate at the thought of what lays in his pantry.
“Oh? Do you now,” he purrs, his tone of voice making me blush, caught off guard. Why’d he make it sound so dirty. I eat another fruit to busy my mouth. “Tell me, what else do you like to indulge in?” I can’t read him as he asks the question. I can’t figure why he would ask in the first place.
“Your wine seems to have loosened your lips, m’lord. Asking personal questions of the help.” I grin, stepping away to look about the room. I miss the way his eyes rove over me. “I like the sea, being in it.” I look at my glass, swirling the wine. “Used to prefer the forest but..” A memory of bare feet running through the underbrush. I clear my throat to dispel it. “Now I live by the sea.” I turn back to Gortash, taking a drink to distract myself. “I’m sorry to disappoint, I don’t do much other than work, the pub is about as far as my adventuring goes.” It’s hard to meet his eyes, they’re intense this close. I blame my flush on the wine. “I’m nothing to linger on.”
”Oh I doubt that, my dear.” I can hear the smile in his voice, seeing it when I look up to meet his gaze. I give him an incredulous look to cover my surprise. He holds my gaze as he takes a long drink of his wine. I’m unable to break it and I feel a sizzle of magic run down my spine, despite its warmth I break out in goosebumps. His eyes flick to my covered hands. I feel suddenly nervous, there’s no way he could know, but the fear sparks regardless. He notices. But he doesn’t mention it, which is somehow worse.
.
As the sky burns into orange and violet, all that’s left is where his skin shows. Which is admittedly a larger portion than I’m used to. The man shows more of his chest than Ms Desmond who owned the brothel down the way. As we finish up I’m surprised to find him filling my glass again.
“I really shouldn’t-“
“I insist.” He rises to push the glass into my hands as I’m still seated. I feel uncomfortable sitting as he stands.
Looming over me. I nervously take a sip and he steps to my side, turning to face the in progress painting. I watch him a moment before turning to look as well. The quiet is awkward.
“What do you think, m’lord?” I ask, peeking at him. His eyes slide easily over to me.
“Your work thus far leaves little to be desired. I’m keen to see you start on my features,” his voice is smoothed with the wine. I don’t say I am as well.
“I’ll do it last then,” I snark with a smile. I wouldn’t dare admit I was already saving his face for last to savor it. I was distractingly charmed by his rough face. He turns to look at me, a challenging expression on his face. He sways minutely closer and my magic sparks. I have faith in my gloves, but it makes my body heat regardless. With nowhere to go, it settles in my gut. His eyes break from mine, and flick down, then up. Was he?
“You’ve got a mouth on you, despite how hard you try to control it. Can’t help yourself can you?” There’s no uncertainty in the question, it doesn’t need an answer.
“Whatever do you mean, m’lord? I’m the picture of respect.” I smile, schooling my expression into practiced sweetness. He laughs, hard enough he pitches forward with the force of it. Forward into my space, close enough for me to feel the warmth of him. The sound makes me smile wider, pleased to have brought it out of him, magic flaring in response. I don’t notice as he takes a minute step closer. Smelling his perfume, this close it keeps pulling my attention. In a weak moment I imagine how it’d feel to bury my face in his nape, chase the scent to the source.
His eyes are dark enough I see myself in them. It’s hard to see where his iris and pupil meet. His lashes are dark and full, pretty up close. He feels suddenly too close and I turn to take a drink of my wine to escape. He hums as I break the contact, it sounds amused. I realize my mistake when the sip only makes my chest warm further. I’m near certain I’m flushed, heart beating rabbit fast. He must know his effect. Any suspicions confirmed when his touch makes me shiver. I’m not sure why I don’t move away from his hand, trailing on my back, down the underside of my arm. I realize too late when his decorated fingers trail over one of my gloves, golden claws catching slightly where the leather meets my skin. I feel a worrisome prickle in my palms.
“Why the change?” I watch in horror as a small spark dances over the metal of his gauntlet. But where its coiling around my wrist keeps me pinned. I hold my breath as he slowly turns my hand to face upwards. “It seems an odd barrier for someone of your profession.” He’s awfully close. Distracting as my mind is torn between where I feel his breath on my skin and his touch tickling over my palm. I don’t have an answer for him. I feel him watching me as I watch his hand. The way his thumb teases at the edge of it, the bare pad of it slipping under should not be as lewd as it is. For gods sakes he was only touching my hand. The leather bunches as he pushes further in, only when warmth starts to rush down my arms do I jerk away. My eyes shoot to his, he looks disappointed.
“I’d best be off, m’lord.” I intend it to come out firm, but I’m ashamed at how soft my voice sounds between us. But he looks resigned after I pull away. My longing feels wrong. I shouldn’t want him to push me, push into my space. He nods, and steps away.
“Of course,” he murmurs. He lets his eyes wander over me as I watch, “Have a good night.”
.
I don’t think this is what he meant when he wished me well. I turn my head and press my face into my sheets, hand buried between my thighs. I’ve got my clothes from the day in bed with me, shamefully seeking any trace of his scent. My peak hits me with a hammer blow, a second following the first in a shockwave that leaves my legs shaking. I can’t meet my own eye in my mirror as I clean up.
Day 6:
I have the irrational fear that he’ll know what I’ve done when I step up to Wyrm’s Rock. I wake so frazzled I nearly forget my gloves by the door. Afraid that he’ll take one look and know my indiscretions. He barely looks up when Lorelei shuts the door behind me. I quietly set my things down, trying to discreetly watch him. He waits till I set up my paints to speak.
“Not much left to do,” he says, settling into the now familiar pose. I glance up from my station. My fantasies flash and I look to the painting.
“There’s only about two days of work left, I’d guess,” I reply, reaching out to brush a few bits of dust from the canvas. He makes a soft noise in his throat. “I can probably finish all but your head today. Wrap it up before sunset tomorrow.” I look his way. “I won’t keep you for too much longer.” His mouth quirks.
“Take as much as you need, no sense rushing now,” he says easily, I nod, starting to paint.
“Of course Lord Gortash.” He perks up at the use of his name, I can’t resist the smile that takes over my face at the reaction.
.
I hate him. I’m too nervous to start with his chest, deciding on his hands first. His hands are rough and as I work I notice the scars littered across them. The bulk of his past broken knuckles. He has surprisingly workman-like hands for a noble. I hate that it makes me like him more. The gold adornments of the gauntlet provide me a distraction as I take my time getting the shine right. The odd purple gemstone seems to glow from within, I like recreating the sharp highlight shapes.
I hate his stupid whorish shirt. I can feel the bastard smiling with how my skin prickles under his attention. His chest is on full display, the plush swell of it flustering me as I work. The beginning of his softer stomach peaks from the edge of his shirt, dark full thatch of hair disappearing beneath the silken fabric. It looks soft. Soft in a way that makes me want to test it against my cheek, turn to run teeth- I grimace as I try to think of anything else. A peak of his nipple shows with how wide the fabric is splayed open for gods sake. His chest hair curls around the shape of it, I imagine tracing it, resorting to detailing it instead. I’m hardly surprised by the few scars that litter his skin. I try not to focus too hard on a few peaking out around his collar, scars that look suspiciously like bite marks.
I’m nearly done with the span of it when he requests a break. I easily agree, not wanting to admit that a pause from staring would do me good. Give me a chance to try and calm my pulse. I should have known better than to hope for that as he sidles up beside me with two glasses of wine. I don’t have the fight in me to try and refuse it when he holds it out for me. I watch him as he leans in close, nose a breath from the canvas as he inspects the gauntlet. I can tell he wants to touch it, I’m grateful when he doesn’t. He leans away and looks over the rest.
“You paint quite a flattering portrait,” he remarks and I take a sip of the wine.
“I paint what I see, m’lord.” I fail to see the heavy compliment in my response till after it escaped me. He turns to look at me and I refuse to do the same.
“Oh?” He sounds horribly confident and I can’t suppress a small groan.
“Apologies, I didn’t mean to feed your ego, wouldn’t want it to grow any bigger m’lord.” I roll my eyes to look his way and he flashes his teeth in a smile. Gods they’re sharp.
“You’re lucky I like you, otherwise I’d have that insolent tongue of yours cut out. It’s a wonder your sharp mouth hasn’t gotten you in trouble.” He brushes one clawed finger on my jaw, tapping it on the underside of my chin. It makes me instinctively tilt my head up to shy from the sharp sting. His eyes feel heavy where they settle on my mouth, I watch as they slowly drift up to mine.
“It can be soft when it needs to be.” His brow quirks up and I feel my neck heat at the innuendo. I resist looking away, embarrassed and he chuckles. “Maybe you just bring out the worst in me, m’lord,” I say, trying to gain some dignity back and shoot him a hollow cross look. He doesn’t buy it. He turns away with a filthy smile on his lips to swallow half his glass. The way he licks the red wine from his lips makes me want to squirm, the way it runs over his teeth as he smiles. I drain most of my own to try and forget it.
.
I’ve got some of his hair done as we finish up for the day. There’s a tension that makes me want to both run and beg to stay. He’s watching me in a way that seems like he can tell, that he’s waiting for me to choose. He beckons me over with a crook of his fingers that makes me think of other things. I’m not sure if it’s the right choice to obey. When I’m close enough he passes a glass to my hands, smirking as I reach down to pluck a grape from the plate beside him.
“It’s time to discuss payment, so long as you don’t fumble the last stretch of our time together,” he teases and I give him an expression of mock surprise.
“Payment? By your summons I had assumed my pay was my continued breath,” I say in exaggerated surprise, hand drifting to hold against my chest. He runs a hand over his mouth as he smiles up at me.
“Cheeky.” I definitely do not fixate on his tongue as he lewdly wets his bottom lip. “So long as you don’t botch my handsome mug, you’ll keep your life along with five grand .” I cough as I choke on nothing and rush to cover my mouth. Five Grand? I look at him shocked and he shifts. “Would you prefer less?”
“No no I, just caught me off guard, m’lord.”
“It’s a fair price for the work and quality of.” He says it so nonchalant, it almost makes me mad. His easy appraisal makes my face burn. And I turn my eyes to the plate to try and calm down. I take a sip of my drink.
“Thank you, m’lord. Your praise is appreciated.” I smile to myself. He sits up, shifting his weight forward to lean closer. “I’ll be able to finish the painting tomorrow, though the final gloss coat will have to wait three days for the paint to fully dry.” I avoid his eyes as I speak, still too flustered to trust my reactions.
“Of course,” he hums, inspecting me as I fidget slightly. My distraction proves to be my downfall as he notices my gaze. “You’ve helped yourself to my refreshments thus far, no need to be shy now.” He nods his head towards the food and I look to him a moment,
“Oh no I,” I cut myself off as I watch him reach over and skewer a small pitted plum on a golden claw. A drop of red juice spills from the wound, leaving a small stain as he lifts it up. I watch it transfixed as his gaze shifts to me, slowly raising the fruit till its level with my lips. I blink, struggling to find my voice. ’I should be stepping back,’ I tell myself as I stand stock still. The seconds stretch before my eyes dart to Gortash. He’s staring like he’s starving for the fruit himself, his growing grin isn’t as infuriating as usual. My magic jumps with my pulse, making my skin buzz, sensitive. I feel the fruit press softly against my lips and I flush. Step back, leave, a small voice cries in the back of my mind. This is Stupid.
My eyes flutter as I glance at the fruit, taking a breath. Slowly reaching up I grasp his wrist to keep it steady, breath hitching at the sharp bite of magic in my palms. I look back at him as I slowly part my lips and lean forward to take it into my mouth. My tongue curls over the bottom to catch the juice leaking from it. His eyes drop quickly to watch, breaths growing shallow as my lips meet the warming metal. The conduits power makes my lips tingle making me sigh as I pull back. His smile morphs into something more feral and I keep still as his hand shifts to hold my jaw. As I bite down he squeezes my cheeks and a small trail of juice starts to make its way down my chin. His eyes follow it as he slowly stands and uses his thumb to smear the red over my lips. My hand tightens where it's wrapped around his wrist.
“Hmm, greedy,” He whispers, crowding into my space. I can’t find a moment to breathe, too overwhelmed by everything about him. His other hand comes up to replace the first, the heat of his touch shocking after the bite of his jewelry. I let go of his wrist as he turns and picks up another fruit. It gives me a moment to catch my breath, kick my brain back into drive without his hands on me. His hands on me, what the fuck is happening. I should leave, I should have left a long time ago- He's facing me again, gauntleted hand scraping up to cup my jaw as the other holds another plum. “More?” He asks, eyes flicking over my face. Maybe he notices the turbulence drowning out my thoughts, waiting for me to do anything.
I tell myself it's the pressure of his position that makes me nod, makes me utter ‘yes’ in response. But I can’t use the same excuse when he leans in close and watches the soft purple fruit slip into my mouth, thumb following to press it down against my tongue. The salt of his sweat mixes with the sweet and I can’t hide how willingly I mouth at the digit, lightly scraping my teeth on it as he pulls away. He grins wide like a gnoll, eyes black as pitch. I chew slow, pliant when his fingers insist entry before I can swallow, drawing some of the sticky sweetness out to paint my lips again, pulling his fingers into his own mouth. His tongue slips out to lathe over them, humming and licking his teeth. His nose brushes mine as he leans closer.
I grasp at his coat, the soft velvet slippery in my fingers. It feels like gravity pulls me forward, trying to drag me into him. He’s so close. He groans as he tilts his head and presses his lips to the corner of my mouth, using his grip on my jaw to tilt my head up. A breath leaves me in a rush as I feel him taste the juice where it stains my skin, leaving a burning trail as he chases where some had dripped down the expanse of my throat. Teeth scraping my jugular. Then he steps away, chest heaving.
“It’s getting late.” His voice comes out breathy, deep with his arousal. I swallow, hand coming up to touch my face.
“Yeah I.” I take a breath, heart pounding in my ears. “I should be going,” I finish, eyes catching where he’s straining within the confines of his pants. I wet my lips, possibilities flashing through my mind. He catches my stare, taking a small step closer. Like it was subconscious. I bend down shakily to grab my coat, shivering as his fingers trail over my curved spine when I do. He draws back by the time I stand. I watch him, unsure of what to say, still reeling. I step towards the door, he follows. He’s close as a shadow till I reach the door, hand hovering over the doorknob when his hands slip over my hips, digging in at my waist. I can feel him hot against me like a brand where he presses to my back, leaning his face into my hair. His breath fans over me and I shiver, pressing back against him. One of his arms slips past me to grab the knob.
“Goodnight.” He murmurs against my skin, opening the door. I’m reluctant to pull away as I step through the doorway, turning to watch him close it. I snap out of it when the latch catches with a resounding click. Then the click of the lock.
“What the fuck.” I mumble, startling as a laugh sounds from beside me. I whip to face Lorelei where she’s leaning against the wall.
“I’ll say,” she snarks with a smile, pointedly looking over my disheveled appearance. “You’ve got a little something…” she arcs a hand over the lower half of her face, “Everywhere..” She squints, a flicker of worry lighting in her eyes. “That’s not blood is it?” I sputter and roughly scrub my sleeves over my mouth and throat, blush burning dark enough it must blend in with the stains.
“No, no it’s, never mind, I’ve gotta.” I fumble and she laughs, “It’s late, I should be home.” She raises a perfectly sculpted brow.
“That you should.”
She makes no other comment as she walks me out. Not till we reach the door does she stop and touch my arm to make me wait.
“Be careful, goodnight.” Then the door slams shut and I’m left to process the events of the last hour. I refuse to do it sober and head straight for the pub.
.
“Don’t ask.” Is the first thing out of my mouth when I collapse into my usual stool.
“Wasn’t going to.” Xander smiles like he absolutely was and pours my drink.
.
I undress quickly as soon as I’m home. Stripping down to collapse onto my bed with a groan. Slick dampens my thighs but I don’t dare feed the arousal still pooled heavy in my gut. Gortash haunts my sleep, body burning where it remembers his touch.
Day 7:
Lorelei shoots me a look as she wishes me good luck. Unable to hide her amusement at my expense. I roll my eyes as I step inside, giving her a rough thanks. The door closes, and we’re alone. Gortash as usual is already sitting in his chair when I enter, looking up as I step forward. He smiles, propping his head up on his fist. I can already feel heat crawling up my neck that I try to push down, embarrassed at how easy I am to fluster. I’m not used to it.
“Good day, m’lord-“
“Please, I think we’re past the formalities.” He licks his lips as he smiles, I want it against me.
“Yes, of course, Gortash.” He hums, settling back in his chair, satisfied.
I resign myself to my embarrassment as I work, unable to escape his attention now that I’m working on his face. His hungry gaze follows me to the canvas. Pupils blown wide, slightly flushed. By the time we take a break at midday, my heart has already sped up enough to make me jittery. His portrait is nearly done. I wait for him to do something. But all he does is pour me a glass of wine alongside his, touch lingering as he presses it into my hands. Then he just sits back and stares at me. He's enjoying the tension a little too much, it annoys me.
“What.” I break the silence and he smiles like he’s won.
“Whatever do you mean?” He hides the width of his grin behind his glass and I look away with a huff. I take a swig, slowing when I notice him following the movement. Gaze heavy. I smile peeking back at him. A drop seeps out the corner of my mouth and I wipe it with my thumb, wine hidden by the red leather of my glove. I lick the excess. He scrubs a hand over his mouth, gaze leaving me and I count it a victory. 1:1
.
I can tell he’s growing impatient as I finish up. Still keeping to his seat as I slowly clean my brushes just to draw it out. I brush invisible dust from my lap, standing and turning the easel to face him.
“I’ve finished, Lord Gortash.” I smile, dipping my voice at the honorific. He looks at me in a manner that makes excitement run down my spine. He stands slowly, staring at me till he reaches the painting, shifting his attention to look it over. His smile drops and I worry for a moment till I realize it’s in surprise. He’s quiet as he inspects it, eventually leaning back folding his arms. Honestly I wonder if he’d made that a habit just to draw attention to his chest. He's got a growing smile, rubbing a hand over his stubble as he tilts his head to look at me.
“Brilliant work.” I can’t help my grin at the praise, wrinkling my nose with the movement of it. He sways a little closer. “You’ve made quite a handsome portrait,” he says with a teasing tone. I shrug.
“As I’ve said, I paint what I see,” Glancing in his direction, I playfully pout. “Don’t tell me that with all your opulence, you lack a mirror?” I lilt my voice in the question and am rewarded with a slight flush on his cheeks.
“Even your sweet words hold a bit of bite.” He taps his glass and steps backwards, keeping his front towards me as he goes to refill it. He tilts the bottle in my direction in a silent offer. I accept but make my way slowly, relishing in the heavy attention. He eases into the seat, perched on the edge as he pours my glass. I let my fingers slide over his as I take it from him, skirt brushing against him.
“I thought you said you liked my flash of teeth,” I shift my weight and lean against his leg, our knees knocking together. I pick out a plum from his plate and bite it in half, tongue dipping out to catch what drips from it. He is quiet as I pull the other half away and hold it out for him, pressing the torn half to his lips to stain them rouge. He smiles as he opens his mouth to accept it, nipping his teeth against my finger tips. Licking them to soothe the sting and catch any trace left. I feel heat crawl steadily up my neck at the wet heat of his mouth.
“I do,” he mumbles against my skin, I watch his throat bob as he swallows. He grasps my wrist and tugs my hand down to rest on his shoulder. His thumb swipes under the hem of my glove before his touch trails up following the line of my arm. It settles on my hip and I take a sip of my wine, pressing into the touch. He tugs gently, guiding me between his legs and onto one knee. He bares my weight easily, and I grin at him as his arm coils to rest on my opposite hip. “What isn’t there to like?” He wets his lips and lets his eyes roam, winking when they return.
“You’re a bastard, Lord Gortash.” I let my hand trail up into his hair, scratching my nails on his scalp. “Albeit a handsome one.” He nods, grip tightening. His eyes linger on my mouth a moment, dark.
“Careful,” He hums, turning to set his glass down on the table. Once his hand is free he uses it to ruck up my skirt on its journey up my thigh. Blooms of magic linger where we meet, knotting the air in my chest. “You might hurt my feelings.” His smile betrays his cross tone and I scoff, leaning to set my own cup beside his. He inhales as my chest nears his face, tightening his hold to press into my neck. His stubble scrapes the skin as I feel his lips part and press a wet kiss against my pulse. My hand snaps to his other shoulder to catch my balance.
“Oh please, you have to have a soul to have feelings,” I say breathily, flinching as he bites in warning. When I pull back he hums.
“I should busy your mouth before it gets you in trouble,” His voice is deep, words a soft mumble. His gauntlet nips at my hip as I watch him reach up and rub roughly over my jaw, gripping to trace his thumb under my lip. “You must be hungry, haven’t taken from me in hours, you poor thing.” He uses his hold to pull down my lip. “You must be starved.”
“It’s not taken when it's hand fed, Lord Gortash.”
“Well if that’s what’s stopping you my dear,” he says as he blindly grabs something from his plate and presses a random fruit to my lips. He pushes till I relent and his finger pushes it to the back of my mouth. He withdrawals quickly with a hiss as my jaw starts to close. His hand is at my throat to feel me swallow, he’s agonizingly close. I lick my lips and he leans closer, nose pressing into my cheek as he brings us together. “Gods maybe I should be the one worried about trouble.”
He sharply slaps my flank, telling me to get up. I startle at the sudden change and am reassured when he can barely keep his hands to himself. He presses up behind me as he tells me to fetch my things. Breath hot on my nape. As I straighten I toss him a look over my shoulder at him.
“You shooing me out again to, tend to yourself?” I lean back to feel him against me and he groans, taking a moment to wrap his arms tight around my waist.
“No no, I’m taking you with me.” I grin.
.
Lorelei isn’t outside the door when Gortash gets me through it. It takes us 10 minutes to cross the room, especially as he turns back to grab the discarded wine bottle. His hand starts in the middle of my back when we start off down the hall. Six doors down it slips, pressing into one of the divots at the base of my spine. Heat begins to pool in my gut as his hand continues to drift. He’s squeezing my ass just as he pulls away to unlock a door and drag me through. He uses my body to shut the door, pressing me hard against the wood and following suit.
I groan as the treatment knocks my breath from my chest. He’s crowding close, face pressed into my hair as his hands tug at my skirts.
“God’s you drive me half mad, leaving me torn between kissing you and killing you.” His hands are rough as he pushes a knee between my legs, hands insistent on my hips. “Should punish your foul mouth, men have lost their lives for less than you’ve said to me.” He draws back to look down at me. Reaching up to push some hair from my face.
“Oh please sir, what can I do to earn your forgiveness?” I say in a sarcastically sweet tone, running my hands over his shoulders and that ridiculously luxurious coat. The conniving smirk that stretches over his face worries me. He traces a finger over my mouth, taping his clawed finger against the soft flesh.
“You could start with getting on your knees,” he purrs, hand shifting to my shoulder. At my slight hesitation he tightens his grip and shoves me down as he shifts to leave just enough room. I grip his pants to slow my descent for the sake of my knees, still wincing at the contact. He’s got me pinned between him and the door. I crane my neck to look up at him. Blushing heavy as I see I’m eye level with his straining cock. Its weight evident. “Your mouth can do many things as you’ve shown,” he hums as he trails his fingers under my chin to raise my face. “But can it beg?” I smile, batting my lashes.
“Beg for what, my lord?” His nails dig into my chin hard, sneering down at me.
“Forgiveness.” I whine as he jerks my head forward, raising his hand to comb sharp down my scalp. I jerk as his rings snag. He feels all encompassing like this, his perfume, he must spray the stuff in his trousers. I blink up at him, eyes wet with the sting.
“Ah, I- I’m sorry,” I gasp, hand flinching up with the urge to grip his wrist as he uses his own to lift me up. I strain up to relieve the pain. “I’m sorry, please.” I try to find his gaze in the shadows of his face, dark hair haloing him. “Please forgive me,” I huff as I feel my mouth wet at the thought of being this close. The heady smell of him peaks through the flowery cologne. “I’ll do anything.” I beg, wanting more than anything to touch him. Wanting to push till he gave in and I could have what I wanted. He leans his head against the door with a sigh.
“You eager little witch,” he breathes into the air, voice thick with desire. Hook.
“I could be nothing else sitting for days and paint your likeness while having to resist your temptation.” I let my eyes flicker down. I’m suddenly thankful for his open shirt when it gives me more to stare at. I look back up tilting my head the slightest towards him. Closer to him. “My desires raged, especially with you dressed as you are, it’s unfair to expect less.”
He shivers as I raise my hands to settle on his calves. It looks like he bites back a sound. Line.
“Do you hear yourself? Words slipping easy, from your wicked tongue. Always more, more.” His face twists as he runs a surprisingly gentle hand along my jaw, around the shell of my ear. He mimes a bite, “You tricky fiend, you react so boldly, outside of your station, makes me wonder of your blood.” He peers down at me, a clawed finder dragging sharp over my skin. If I hadn’t left my mother I could have probably had him killed. All the more power to keep me contained. The thought sends excitement down my spine. I could have probably have paid to watch.
“Trying to find an excuse to draw my blood?” I teasingly lean into his sharp touch. Pushing my hands up to his thighs, breathing heavy hoping he’ll feel the heat of it. I suspect he does. “You curse my words, yet haven’t found something to otherwise entertain me with.” I hold his gaze as I sway forward to brush against his front, the hot line of him on my cheek.
He lets out a shaky sigh with a curse. Sinker.
“Bed, lets, shit,” he laughs lightly as he savors my touch a moment before shifting back. “Come’re,” he says, offering a hand. I take it and he tugs me up hard, quick enough I stumble into him with a giddy shriek. He smiles, pulling me close before leading me to his disgustingly large bed.
“Your opulence astounds me,” I sigh, stepping beside him to bend down and run my hands over his soft sheets, softest I think I’ve felt. I sigh and twist to sit, falling back into the plush mattress’s embrace. I look up with a smile as Gortash looks at me with what I can only describe as fondness. He steps forward to stand between my legs, propping a knee up on the bed.
“Finery would suit you, all wrapped in velvet and silks,” he speaks as he gently shucks off his jacket and drapes it on the plush loveseat at the foot of the bed. He bends over, hands falling on either side of my head as he crawls atop me. His legs nudge my own to bend and make room for him. I reach up and run my hands over his shoulders, pushing under his gaping shirt, dipping around his ribs to his back. I use my hold to pull him close, body bowing to meet mine. He kisses the corner of my mouth, ignoring as my head turns to chase his lips. He gets a grip on my shoulder and half lifts me, hand feeling over the back of my dress.
I’m confused till I hear my zipper, roughly dragged down to my ass. His hand slips inside to grope the shape of me, pressing his face against my skin as he tugs me close with a low moan. Before I can react he’s pulling back to get a grip on the front of my dress and shuck it off me. He pulls the whole front of the thing down, slipping over my arms and leaving my top half bare.
“Nothing underneath?” He wets his lips as he speaks, gaze dragging to my face. I smile, buzzing with giddy energy. His hands squeeze at my waist hard, the direct contact with the gauntlet making me gasp, skin burning where my magic roils in response to it. I feel my hands prickle within the confines on their gloves, the only thing he hasn’t pulled from the top of me. He continues and grabs at the skirts, taking no time in the way he rids me of them. He nearly smacks himself with the garment in his haste, carelessly throwing it to the floor. He’d grabbed my underskirt with the first and I shiver with chill at being suddenly bare. He takes a moment to look me over. I push back self consciousness, defying it to shift my legs to press a heel to his back, trying to bring him closer.
He moves and starts tugging roughly at the laces of my shoes, nearly ripping them in his haste. They thunk once, then again as he drops them to the floor.
“Move up the bed,” He pants as he bends to remove his own. I settle myself between his pillows, legs drawn up and together as I wait. He kicks them off quickly and is over me in an instant, hands squirming between my thighs to pull them apart and make room for himself. He leans over me with an arm by my head. Dragging the nails of his jewelry over my skin, tracing from my neck to my hip. The sharp sting and zap of magic makes a sound slip from my lips, one that encourages him. He presses harder, leaving welts in lines over my hips. My hands come up to settle on his shoulders, one fisting the silk of his shirt as he noses along my jaw, trailing up to keep just shy of slotting our lips together. Gods I want him to just kiss me, teasing bastard.
“Gortash, please,” I whine, tilting my chin to try and close the gap. He only smiles and tips to the side, pressing his mouth to my cheek, kissing my chin.
“What more do you want my dear,” He hums, tickling his touch on the underside of my breast. He follows it up and around, hand pressing down over my heart.
“By the gods, Gortash, kiss me,” I huff exasperated as he smiles, pleased at my responsiveness.
“Enver, call me Enver while in my bed.” He circles the pad of his thumb around my nipple, hand slipping down to feel how my tit fills his palm. The sharp edges of metal make me flinch, impatiently wrapping a leg around his waist. I can feel him through the fabric of his pants and seek him out, trying to make his weight press me to the bed.
“Enver, kiss me.” I weave my hands in his hair as I speak, and finally. His nose slots beside mine as he ghosts his lips over my own, damp skin catching as he lets out a breath. His hips press against me at the first full touch, pressing his mouth hard to mine with a groan. A high sound slips between us when he presses into me, his expensive trousers soft against my skin, mouth insistent against mine. His lips are surprisingly plush, paired with the scrape of his scruff, surely reddening my chin. His arm slips under me to hold me close to him as he parts his lips, tracing the seam of mine with a deft tongue. As I welcome it into my mouth I imagine it elsewhere, his head buried between my thighs.
He groans low as I feel his length rock against me, smearing my arousal over the crotch of his pants. I angle my hips, chasing the friction as I cling to him. He's vocal against my lips, sweet noises that make my blood sing. He kisses me hungrily, taking breath from me as he blocks out all else in the room with the shape of him. He pulls back enough to shift his weight, petting his bare hand over my skin as his eyes follow. He looks back to me as I feel the hand slip to trace over my thighs. My pulse jumps. He swears as his questing fingers meet my center.
“You filthy greedy thing, you’re soaked,” he says it like a curse, eyes fluttering. I gasp as his fingers trace over my entrance to drag roughly over my clit. The treatment making my legs jerk as arousal sparks sharp in my gut. He’s smiling as his eyes draw to his hand, the dim light in the room reflecting off his wet fingers. “God’s you’ll be my end.” He watches my face as he stiffens two fingers circling my cunt, testing the give. My heart thuds as he pushes, burying them inside. A moan is half cut off in my throat as I feel him press into me quickly, reaching as far as he can before curling those fingers inside me. I whine as he drags them out slow.
“Ngh ah, Enver,” I pant fisting his hair tight as he pushes them into me again. My core aches with built tension as he fucks me with his fingers, spreading them apart. He pushes a third, impatient and I gasp at the stretch, the slight sting as he bullies them in as far as they’ll go. Wet lewd sounds fill the room as he pushes them into me over and over, shaking above me. My hands slip between us and fumbles for his trousers closure, hastily shoving a hand inside to palm his cock. He curls his fingers particularly hard when I find him, awkwardly wrapping a hand around the warm flesh. His girth makes my hands barely meet around and I buck my hips into his touch. I whine when his fingers leave me, as he shoves his pants down to free himself and wet his length with my slick. I get a proper view of the thing and feel my face flush darker.
He’s about the average length I’ve seen but thick, a battering ram of a cock. I’m sure it would leave my jaw aching, finding myself hoping for a chance to find out. He runs a hand over himself, drawing the skin back from the head and my legs fall further open as I watch a bead of pearlescent pre drip from the tip. He uses his free hand to grip behind my knee, pushing the leg up and open wider, tilting his hips to drag his length over my core. The sticky head catches over my clit and I jerk with a happy hum. His eyes are locked to where we meet as I felt him notch the head at my hole. Testing the give. A bite of pain makes me whine as he uses his weight to start to push the tip. It feels much bigger than his fingers, making my chest heave.
“Wait it’s,” I mutter, eyes wide as I move to press a hand to his chest. I want to ask for more prep as he urges forward, not even fully breached and I feel the stretch burn. He hushes me as I open my mouth to speak, holding my hips to the bed. “Fuck,” it comes out a broken sound, chorused with his groan as he pops past the ring of muscle. He only gives me a moment before he rolls his hips and forces himself deeper. I scramble for purchase as he sinks inch by agonizing inch. Hilting himself with a snap of his hips, the force making me jerk on the bed. I heave for breath, tears prickling in my eyes. He circles his hips and the motion provides friction to my clit as he makes room for himself.
When he draws back I gasp, instinctively squeezing around him as I’m left feeling empty. He pulls all the way out, tip barely kissing my entrance before he buries himself within me once more. He leans closer, lips finding my neck and shoulders as he starts to build a rhythm. Drawing out slow, pushing back in hard, like he’s trying to reach as deep as possible. He brings my hips higher up to fold me in half as he leans over me. Digging his teeth into the meat of my shoulder, leaving a trail of bruises across my skin. The slick silk of his shirt slips in my gloved hands, but the way my magic spikes with each of his movements keeps me from removing them. The closures of his pants smack my ass with each pass. The lord still dressed in his haste to have me.
“I knew you’d fit me perfectly,” his words are more air than sound, the last punctuated with a roll of his hips. He slows, leaning in to press his lips to my chest, laying kisses to my shoulder. “Forgive me darling, I lost myself in you a moment.” He changes his angle and I sigh a sound as it makes sparks light behind my eyes. I twist a hand in his hair and tug in retaliation.
“That fucking hurt,” I hiss, humming as he rolls in slow again, making me shiver. I feel him smile, squirming a hand between us to nudge his fingers where we meet. I snap my jaw, hissing his name in warning. His attentions shift to thumb at my clit.
“Does’t hurt now?” He mumbles against my neck between kisses, mouthing at my jaw. My hand splays over his back as he slowly builds my peak. Small sounds escape my every exhale as he pumps his cock, aiming for my own pleasure in apology. I keen as he finds a rhythm that makes it hard to find my voice. I press into his touch.
“Fuck-” He drags his lips across my cheek, “-you,” I finish, messily pushing his hair back to see where he smiles above me. He pecks my lips,
“Maybe later, right now it's my turn,” He says cheekily and I smack him with a groan. He laughs, cutting himself off with a moan when I clench around him, “Gods darling-“
“You’re ah-awful,” I hiss, face scrunching as heat claws at my insides. Sweat prickles over my skin and I kiss him, nipping at his lip as the coil in my stomach pulls tight. I moan into his mouth, Heart thudding as the pressure builds. “Enver, I’m,” I gasp against his lips as he picks up his pace, thumb circling hard enough my legs twitch where they’re wrapped around his hips. “More,” I pant and he kisses me hard, dragging his mouth away to kiss below my ear. My joints ache as he rocks into me, fisting his shirt and smelling burnt leather as my hands crackle with sparks. The sharp sting races up my arms and I jerk in his hold. I’m so close my head feels stuffed with cotton, ears ringing with the tease of it.
“Always so greedy,” he whispers against my neck before biting harshly. I cry out at the pain, losing my train of thought as he brings me strokes away from falling, barreling me over the edge. I open my mouth in a silent cry as my vision fuzzes. I feel his body shake above me as he feels the effects of my orgasm pulse around him. Keeping his attentions up till the first bleeds into a second. He makes a wounded noise as I squeeze down again. Shifting to bend me further onto myself, bearing his weight down into me and I wheeze as I feel the blunt head of his cock knock my cervix. It aches with a warm buzz as I linger in the after effects of my high. He’s muttering something into my neck, pace growing desperate.
“Gonna fill you, fuck you like you were made for it,” he says, voice slurred. His hips stutter. “Fill you up, make you mine,” his voice pitches towards a whine as he chases his own finish. A shiver runs through him as he catches it, buried inside, still shifting in a blind attempt to push it deeper. As he calms he lays over me, a comforting weight as we both catch our breath. He blindly presses kisses where he can reach, hands trailing paths over my sides and thighs. I return the affection, scratching against his scalp making him sigh. He eases out me and slips down slightly to rest his head against my chest.
“Comfortable?” I query with a suppressed laugh. Watching as his head moves with the shake in my chest. He nuzzles my tit in response, grinning based on the swell of his cheeks.
“Yeah,” he says breathily. “Feel heavenly my dear,” he continues, tilting his head to look up to me and I look away. I can’t disguise the blush spread over my face. “How are you faring?”
“Good, I feel satisfied.” I look back at him and he mock frowns.
“Wow, such high praise, what a compliment,” he deadpans and I roll my eyes with a smile.
“Oh please, as if your ego needs any feeding, gluttonous as it is.” He smiles with a huff and I brush his hair back with absentminded fingers. “I think my enjoyment was obvious.” I sigh as he squeezes me.
“Give me a minute and I can draw proper praise out of you,” He mouths at my chest, leaving a light mark and I watch him roll his hips against the mattress.
“Oh? I’m impressed,” I sigh as he wriggles his hands down to squeeze at my ass. I give him a playful slap on the shoulder as he does. He pauses before his next remark.
“Why the gloves? You kept them on,” he asks as he plants a kiss.
“Wouldn’t want to hurt you, have a cursed touch I’m afraid.” I try to sound light hearted and he frowns. “Bad blood, not sure who but I have ideas.” I grin as I tap my fingers in succession on his skin. “Could leech your life if I’m not careful.” He sits up on his elbows and I pull back slightly. Worried about his reaction.
“You continue to surprise me,” he says with something like wonder. “That hardly sounds like a curse to me, a gift maybe, you make a beautiful wraith.” I flush again.
“You are such a strange man.” He tugs at my arm to reach a hand, teasing his finger under the leather. I resist pulling away as I feel my magic flare to spark at his touch. I feel his arm twitch at the shock.
“Makes us a matching pair.” As his eyes slide back to my face I struggle to catch my breath. His questing touch slips further under the burnt leather and I can’t help how I flinch back. I shoot a panicked look towards my hand as my magic spikes with my worry, I feel it crackle. He must feel it too.
“Wait be careful-“ He pulls away before I can, smoothing his touch down my forearm, he leans down to press a kiss below my collar bone. “Idiot.”
“So cruel,” he hums, moving to trail his fingers through my hair where it's splayed on his pillows. I watch him watch his hand. As he repeats the motion. I look down to his shoulders, reaching up to push past his collar, feeling over the buttons till I reach the few still clasped. I smile to myself as I easily pop them open singlehanded. He chuckles as he shifts his touch to feel along my jaw.
“You like it,” I say as I look back up. He shifts to lean over me, pressing close to peck my lips, eyes looking between mine before closing them as he kisses me again.
“That I do,” he mumbles between kisses. I wrap my arms around his waist, wanting to feel his skin on mine. He’s so warm. I break the kiss to press one to his jaw, sighing as he mouths at my pulse in turn.
“You ever going to undress?” I ask with a peck. Leaning in to press my face into his neck. He smells so good. “As much as I love your clothes, I’d rather see you rid of them.” He laughs soft and squeezes my waist as he sits up, sitting on his heels. I admire the view of him. I trace a hand over his soft stomach as he rids himself of his shirt. I look up to watch as he moves, shamelessly taking in the newly exposed skin. He tosses the garment over his shoulder towards the day bed with a grin.
He seems to be waiting for my reaction, watching my face as I let my hands trail 0ver the larger scar on his side. He preens under my appraisal. He keeps still allowing me to press my hand upwards, feeling over the hair on his chest, following it over the swell of his pec. The way he shivers from my touch, lips parting with a quick breath in makes me smile. I give a little attention to his biceps, tracing the marred surface before moving back to his chest. He hesitates moving away, not wanting to lose the contact.
“Parting from you pains me,” he groans as he leans to sit back, turning to hastily push his pants down. I sit up, laughing at his expense as a leg gets caught. He shoots me a look that I sooth with a hand over his arm. He frees himself and scrambles to lean back into my space, grabbing at my waist. “Especially now that I can finally have you,” he says in a way that makes my chest clench. I smile when I lean in to kiss him.
“I love how much you want me,” I reply as I slip my arm over his shoulders, sitting up on my knees to lean over him. He sighs, tugging me forward onto his lap. I feel him twitch beneath me and I grin, flashing sharp teeth.
“You don’t know the measure of it,” he says before tilting his chin up to steal a kiss. I arch my back against him and he hums. “I want to know you, study the parts that make you,” his words make me burn red. “Everything I’ve learned has only given me more questions. Oh how badly I’d like to know you.” I scramble for words, hot with embarrassment.
“Gods Enver, you already have me in bed, no need for the flattery,” I sputter, trying to appear composed. He smiles, looking at me with a raised brow.
“It isn’t flattery my dear,” He teases, running his hands over my sides. He holds my hips and pulls me to him, letting out a shaky breath. “You must know you’re enchanting. I’d almost suspect a spell.” He wraps his arms tight as he cants his hips. “But I can feel the suppressors on you, your sleek gloves only make me crave your touch more. I wonder how it’d feel.” He kisses my shoulder as a prickle of anxiety runs down my spine.
“You wouldn’t like what you find.”
“What makes you so sure?” He looks up at me, giving me the view of his expression as I grind down against him. “You really think a man of my position doesn’t have precautions?” His hands press up to my shoulders. Creeping his touch down my arms. “You must be clueless to my mass of enemies sweetheart, a little necromancy wouldn’t leave anything lasting.” He slowly holds my wrists to shift my grip, making me cup his cheek as he leans into my captive touch. He teases a thumb under the leather again. “Remove them only if you want but know I hold no objection to it. Far from.” I bite at my lip as I consider it.
“Your persistence won’t lead you to anything good,” I warn and he turns his head to kiss my palm.
“That wasn’t a no.” His thumb swipes under again, the buzz of the metal on his other hand drawing my attention.
“Would you remove your gauntlet?” He doesn’t look like he’d protest. “I’d feel better without that amplifying my magic.” He seems confused.
“It’s not an amplifier.” I blink, taking my turn to look confused. “What do you mean?”
“But, don’t lie, I can feel it, like a feedback loop, what else would it be?”
“Netherine.” He looks over my face. A slow smile forming. I feel his cock stiffen and I give him an incredulous look.
“Unbelievable,” I scoff and he wets his lips, squeezing my hips hard.
“You’re surprised? That I’d be disappointed with a gift such as this, that I wouldn’t relish a partner blessed by death? The depth that you must hold to react when the stone isn’t bound to you.” He presses his forehead to mine. This was far from what I’d expected, unused to the casual embrace of it. He pulls back only to tug off his rings, gathering them and glancing back to place them on the plush coat. He’s quick with it, impatient to return his hands to me. I gasp as his bare hands snake around to grope my ass. “I’m offended darling.” He lifts me slightly and twists to fall back on the bed. His dark hair halos him as I yelp at the sudden move, catching myself with hands on his chest. A small laugh escapes me at my surprise. “Your talents have obvious effects.” He says as he plants his feet to buck up against me. He’s hot like a brand.
I push back as he lifts one of my hands. I watch with bated breath as he looks back, he taps a finger against the leather. His near desperation for it’s shocking enough to make me agree, however stupid the decision. I nod and he leads the hand to his face. My chest heaves as I watch him draw it between his teeth, biting the tip of a finger to tug the leather off slow. As he pulls my hand out he slides his hand over mine, seeking the newly exposed skin. Heat pulses in my core, he must feel it with how he smirks around his bite. He makes the act look so depraved. The sexuality makes my hips twitch. He tosses the accessory towards the bedside when it's finally free, slipping his hand fully into mine to interlock our fingers. Even without the gauntlet I feel a tingle down my arm.
He frees me of the second and draws it to his face, leaning into the bare touch of my hand. I see a small spark bite at his jaw and start to worry when he moans. It’s a surprised sound, slipping out as he chases the sting. He uses his hold on me to drag me closer, dropping my hand to tangle his in my hair. His grip is soft on the back of my head as he cranes up to kiss me. I cup his face in both hands, eagerly returning the affection.
His hands settle on my hips to urge them to roll against him. His nails dig in and I nip his lip in retaliation. He makes a muffled sound against my mouth and I taste blood when he dips his tongue to meet mine. I pull back to inspect the wound, the heavy flush over his face. His breath comes quick, quicker when I press against the split, smearing the blood across his lips. He opens his mouth to taste it on my thumb. Teasingly closing his lips around the digit. I use the action to better grip his jaw. I lean down to kiss along his neck, arching my back to press myself to the length of him. I’m wet enough that the slide comes easy. The mess he’d made of me moments prior smearing between us. He moans high in his chest, hips twitching up against me.
I remove my fingers from his mouth to push his hair back, leaning down to slot my lips against his. He slips his hand down as we rock together, pressing down at the base of my spine. He arches his back to improve the angle, knocking against my clit on the upstroke. I moan against his lips as the next barely catches on my cunt. Again he slips past, and again, and again. I can't help the frustrated sound that escapes me, starting to reach down before he snatches my wrist. Another drag, I can feel him smiling.
“You want more? Thought you were satisfied.” He swipes his tongue over my teeth, shifting to mouth at my jaw.
“Enver, you prick-“ He bites down, slowing his movements.
“Ask nicely.” He drags his open mouth over my skin, keeping us pressed tight together.
“Stop teasing, please Enver just, I,” I stumble over my words. He huffs before squeezing me once and rolling us over. I gasp at the flip and he chuckles, rolling his hips, pressing me down into the mattress. He smirks down at me as he pulls back to sit on his knees, shifting his gaze to watch the slick slide. I see an idea spark in him and he leans down again to kiss me. It’s slow, sensual in a way that makes me sigh.
I frown at him when he pulls away to mouth at my neck. Even more as I lose the heat of him as he moves to my chest.
“Enver-“ He leaves a mark on the underside of my breast that makes me twist my fingers in his hair. He reaches down squeezing hard at my hips, I briefly wonder if there’ll be marks. They continue to feel around my inner thighs as he reaches my stomach. He looks up at me and I loosen my grip at the heated expression on his face.
“May I?” he asks, parting his lips to press a breathy kiss above my navel. Lewdly flashing his tongue and I blush.
I start to smile as I reply.
“Eat your fill baby.” Heat flares in my gut at the grin that he gives me, turning his attention to suck a few marks before he finds the crease of my hip. He guides my legs over his shoulders, pressing them open. Enver drags his lips over my inner thighs, hands wrapping around my hips to hold me to him. He teases as my breath picks up, slowly working his way closer. Be blows a cold breath on my cunt and I gasp. “Fuck,” I curse as he drags his tongue over me. He groans and does it again, prodding at my hole to lap up his spend. He smears the mix up over my clit and drags his tongue along the underside. I jerk in his grip and he moves an arm to brace over my stomach to pin me down. The other moves away to press a thumb to teasingly nudge at my entrance as he starts to flick his tongue over my clit, tracing around it and dragging rough over. I try to press into him. “Please, Enver put your fingers in me.” I gasp, arching on the bed.
He hums and I feel him shift his hand and drag two fingers through our come. He’s pressing them into me in one fluid motion before I can think. I cry out as he sucks on my clit hard and curls his fingers. He makes a pleased noise and starts to fuck me with his fingers. I can see he’s humping the bed in time but he seems perfectly content in his position. His enthusiasm is obvious with the noises he makes against me. Getting rougher with it, he’s slipping in a third finger easily with a hint of his teeth making my legs shake.
“Fuck, you’re so good at that,” I moan as I push his hair back to watch him work. “Doing so well.” He whines against me as I see his hips stutter at the praise. Dots connect and I smile. He tongues at my heated center with more vigor. Arousal snaps tight in me and I keen. “You should see yourself, Enver, being so good to me. Look perfect between my thighs.”
“Ah Gods.” He grinds hard to the bed and I watch a shiver run down his spine. It only takes a few more moments for him to send me over the ledge. He sucks hard at my clit as an orgasm floods my system making me cry out, legs shaking around his head. I tug at his hair as he keeps going, overstimulation lighting up my spine. He keeps his pace and I feel another begin to build. It grows quickly, my hands tingling with sparks as he makes me come again. As I squeeze around his fingers he presses in a fourth, the stretch near burning. I moan loud filling the big room and he works his fingers into me. My mouth opens in a silent sound as he drags out a third, teasingly pressing his teeth and curling his fingers hard. He slips his fingers from me and immediately puts them in his mouth as he pulls back, licking them clean before kissing at my thighs and hips as I catch my breath. He gives me a cheeky smile, licking the sweat from my skin and I pull at him. He crawls up my body to kiss me, further taking my breath as I clutch at him. I love how he kisses me, teasing and a little mean. I respond to his nipping teeth with nails dug into shoulders, biting his tongue when it slips into my mouth. He slows the kiss to something filthy.
I whine as he slots our hips together and drags himself over my soaked cunt. He lets out a shaky moan at the feeling. He rests his forehead to mine as he repeats the movement, the way he’s looking at me making me feel suddenly shy. Not expecting the vulnerability in it. He lets out a shaky breath when tilt my head to peck his lips.
“You okay?” I ask quietly, cupping one side of his face as I watch him search my face. He kisses me open mouthed, eyes falling shut. His eyelashes dense up close. He nods as he breaks away and nuzzles his nose beside mine.
“Yeah, just not what I expected,” he mumbles, rolling his hips lazily. His libido hasn’t faltered, reassuring me a little.
“About what?”
“This, just, you're stranger than I thought. Better.” I lightly slap his shoulder and he snickers. His next kiss draws me in, opening his mouth slow to groan into the kiss. He’s a distractingly good kisser.
“Scheming to get me in bed?” I tease, ignoring the flash of annoyance at the thought of him having planned everything. His laugh doesn’t help.
“Me? My dear I didn’t think you’d want me, leering older man that I am. Thirsting after you while under my hire.”
“You’re not older by much-“
“By enough. Darling you’re a stunner, even my station doesn’t bring me level.” He holds me a little tighter, smiling as he kisses the corner of my mouth. “Yet here you are, beneath me.” I wrap my legs around him and arch my back to press us chest to chest. His compliments make my magic spark, a grin that hurts my cheeks spreading on my lips.
“My my Enver Gortash, humility looks good on you. You are quite lucky.” My voice pitches as I tease and turn my head to nose at his hairline, kissing the corner of his jaw. He chuckles and butterflies rage in my chest. “As am I, I for one find you very handsome.” I pet my hands over his hair, voice whispered into his ear. “I liked the way you peacocked for me, even bribing me with sweets.”
“You had me desperate,” He sighed, picking up his pace again, angling his hips to tease inside.
“I could tell,” I snark and he bites my shoulder, kissing the red mark. He rolls his hips again and I try and tilt my hips to catch him. He skates past. He leaves another kiss before shifting up.
“May I have another taste?” He asks with another nudge and I nod, humming an affirmative and pressing back. He sighs and squeezes my flank and leans back quickly. “Turn over.” He's blushing down to his chest, it's oddly endearing. I draw my legs up to comply, adding a little flair just to feel his heavy gaze. His hand feels over my backside as I settle on my knees, back bent in a c. “Bane have mercy,” He prays and I feel him press against me, blocking the light as his hand slips between my legs to press his fingers into me. He moves them slowly, drawing out slick and I watch him coat his cock with it over my shoulder. His eyes flick to meet mine, biting his lips and looks over me as he fists himself as few times, fucking into his fist.
I hum with a smile when I feel the blunt head of his cock nudge at me. Lined up he holds my hips and slowly eases inside, groaning loud as he sinks in half way and pulls out, pressing in again further. He watches where he disappears inside me with an open mouth, eyes hooded as he rolls in again. He keeps going till I feel his thighs on the back of mine. The angle and way he uses his weight to slip inside makes me punch out a breath. Jerking when he fills me enough to ache. He pulls out till just the tip stays inside, hissing when I clench around him. His hips press forward and I groan. He’s murmuring praise I can’t make out, leaning down and draping himself over my back. A sound presses out of me with each thrust, hitching when his arm slips underneath me and clumsily circles my clit as he keeps pace.
He’s sucking marks on my shoulders when I come and he follows soon after. Moaning into my neck, sounding breathy as he takes a moment. I relax into the bed, turning my head and peeking back at him. A wounded sound leaves him as he pulls back, sliding sideways to fall into the bed. He’s quick to wrap an arm around my waist and hold tight. A happy hum and he opens his eyes to look at me. Watching as I shift to face him. I close my eyes when his hand starts to weave through my hair, brushing it from my face.
”Let's clean up before you fall asleep on me,” he teases with a whisper, letting his touch trace over my nape, nails scraping lightly over my scalp. It feels wonderful. “We can take a bath,” he says with a kiss on my shoulder.
“I bet you’ve got fancy oils in there don’t you.” I say, cracking my eyes open to peer at him. I get to watch the laugh that takes over his face.
“Yes, plenty to pamper you with.”
.
We fuck in the bathroom. Obviously. It’s so eager it’s embarrassing. When we make it back to the bed he strips the top blanket with a flourish. It makes me snort a laugh that seems to make him happy. He pulls back the second for me to get in and I squeeze him as I pass, crawling into bed.
“By the gods,” he says to himself, climbing in after me and helping himself to cuddling close. I welcome the weight of him, nosing into his hair as he lets out a sigh. The warmth feels more like something sweet as it curls in my chest. It’s paired with a stone of dread. I had expected him to be mean and selfish, aiming to try and use that to keep some sort of control. But this tender way he touches me in moments of reverence gives me pause. An unforeseen outcome.
We fall asleep tangled together.
.
When I wake up I do so slowly. Blinking at the start of dawn coming through the windows. I wake to warmth. Gortash is plastered to my back, arm curled round my waist. It feels so nice I try to keep still to keep the attention. He rouses anyway. I feel it in how his grip tightens, I can feel the uptick in his breathing through his chest. I pretend to be asleep, curious of what he’d do. Wondering if he’d stay. The first touch of his lips to my shoulder nearly makes me blow my cover. Gently removing his arm from my waist to trail featherlight fingers down my arm. Along my side, circling the slope of my hip. Back up to carefully move my hair aside to tuck his face to my neck. Carefully wrapping his arm round my waist.
“Mornin’” He mumbles and I blink. How’d he- I turn to face him, admiring his sleep mussed hair. He’s so warm, I lean into him and tilt my chin up to kiss him. The way he leans back to avoid it sends a pang of hurt in my chest. “Wait, morning breath,” he says and I frown.
“I don’t care,” I reply and shift my attention down, watching my hand on its journey across his chest. I feel the groan that escapes him as he presses his head to the crown of mine. He presses a kiss there before he moves to tilt my head towards him. He leans in and brushes his lips against mine, teasing into a kiss that I eagerly reciprocate. He sighs into my mouth, lips parting with it and I take the chance to drag my teeth over his bottom lip with the next kiss. He relaxes into the bed and pulls me to lay on top and sighs.
“I don’t have to be up for another few hours.” He traces shapes on my back. “Get some rest.”
.
I try not to hide under the covers when his breakfast is brought in. Relieved when the maids leave. He can’t help himself and feeds me a few bites.
He helps me dress, leaving dragging kisses up my spine as he zips the dress. We walk down the hall together, pausing in front of his office door. He leans against the door, hands thumbing at my hips. He just looks at me a moment.
“Ask Lorelei to give you my schedule, I’ve got an appointment unfortunately.” He pouts and pulls me in closer, I grin. “She’s at the front desk.” He pecks my lips. “We’ll have dinner.”
#enver gortash#bg3 gortash#lord gortash#gortash x tav#baldur's gate 3#bg3#fanart#fanfic#gortash fanart#Enver Gortash fanart#artists on tumblr#my art#digital art#digital illustration#digital drawing#romance#smut#mature#food kink#rough kink#long post#17000 word count#18+ only#18+ content#18+ post#18+ blog#18+ account#18+ mdni
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Sage belongs to @theacedragon0w0 and I love them very dearly (both Sage and Ace lol)
Have some fluff. Vlk never thinks she deserves anything nice— a side effect of living with her ex and parents her whole life— but Sage is slowly helping her realize she deserves nice things on occasion.
“You only have two sets of clothes?!” Sage yelped.
Vlk gave them a funny look and deadpanned, “That’s all I need. Pj’s and day clothes. Not to mention affording extra pairs isn’t something I’m currently able to do.”
“That won’t do.” The sinner huffed, crossing their arms. “Come on, we��re going shopping.”
“What? No— I just said I don’t need—“
“First off, you do need more clothes. Not having to wash everyday will give you more time to sleep. Second off, come on, I want to spoil you.”
“You already spoil me.” Vlk muttered, ears low. She always felt bad when someone else decided she was worth something nice like a good meal, groomed fur, or new clothes.
“Not as much as you deserve to be though.” Sage teasingly grabbed her face and leaned in, hesitating and waiting for the okay. Vlk couldn’t help the tiny nod and she got a quick peck on the nose, a fox like rumble escaping her at the kiss. “So come on. We’re going shopping.”
Despite everything telling her not to, Vlk stood up and grabbed her partner's hand, blushing a little at the contact and even more so when Sage squeezed back happily.
They got to the mall fairly quickly on Sage’s bike, and were looking at stores.
“So,” Sage pressed, “Do you have a particular style?”
“Not really.” Vlk responded sheepishly. “I liked red and stripes but given the red fur that’s probably an eyesore. Maybe black? Or maybe a forest or moss green? Nothing bright… anything with a skull would be nice..”
“Alright. And do you like jewelry or hats or anything?”
The fox felt her collar and nodded. “A new collar would be nice.”
“Of course!” Sage dragged her into a nearby store and looked at all the clothes. “Do you prefer men or women’s cuts?”
“Women’s. Men’s doesn’t usually have something off the shoulders.”
“Okay.” Leading the way to the women’s section, Sage couldn’t help their grin. They actually got to spoil someone for once. They were so excited!
… maybe too excited. After twenty different outfits that Sage had picked out and Vlk had to try on, the latter was exhausted and fully done shopping. They hadn’t even left the first store! But they did have two new cute outfits, one was a black, off the shoulder, dress with a thin collar that had a crescent moon chained to it. The other outfit was a grey button up with black pants. It was sleek and frankly made her feel more professional and worthwhile. The last outfit to try on also happened to be a keeper. It was a long sleeved black shirt that exposed her stomach with a pair of dark grey cargo pants. The black shirt had a skull covered in mushrooms on it.
The bill was well over a hundred dollars and the higher the numbers ticked the more Vlk wanted to cancel the whole trip or sink into the ground in shame. She had never actually paid for clothes so she didn’t realize how expensive they were. She had assumed the bill would top out around 80 but the dress alone was easily $140.
“Sage.” She whispered. “Sage, stop. I don’t need all this, just get me the one shirt or cancel it all together.”
“Too late.” They swiped their card with a smirk, before they caught the distressed look. “Hey… I wouldn’t have offered to take you if I couldn’t afford it. You deserve these anyways. And you look great in them! Next time we’ll bring Velveete though, she’s got a better eye for fashion then me. We’ll get you something real nice then rather than just casual clothes.”
Vlk nodded and took the bag that was extended towards her.
“Now come on. Let’s go do a little fashion show for the others and show them how beautiful you look in your new clothes! You can even invite Angel if you want.”
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and now here's the official warrior cats au chavra/mossshade redux... or rather, a rotten moss-covered swamp log that's taken the form of a feral cat. nightstar and meadowstar's beloved daughter 💚
+ mandatory realistic fur color/goldish tan alt to match with meadowstar's, lmao. she looks really fucked up
other notes below. ⬇️
much like the original chavra... she's a very solitary cat who lives in a wetland of some sort not far from the clan territories, but not near enough for clan cats/patrols to encounter her. probably a swamp-like area. seeing how she would've lived there for the majority of her life, she's likely one of the only cats who'd be able to live, train, and thrive there, therefore making it her territory. nobody else is as familiar with its wildlife and conditions as she is, so i'm sure whatever unlucky cat that may trespass/attempt to challenge her would quickly realize she has a complete advantage.
a very tough she-cat! living alone in a place like the swamps since childhood means she's gained quite a bit of skill and bulk in order to survive.
could MAYBE be good deputy/leader material?? that's very debatable though.
i obviously wanted her to look mostly like meadowstar, but a lot more scruffy + desaturated in order to show the difference between their lifestyles/personalities. meadowstar looks well-groomed, warmer, and dignified, while mossshade looks a lot more hardened, colder, and uncaring of others' standards/perceptions of her. she inherited her darker coat, golden eyes, and perma RBF from nightstar lol
as i've stated in the past, the topic of her actual name is a bit complicated since if her story in catstruck is meant to relatively be 1:1 compared to her original story in starstruck, then it means that it wouldn't make much sense for her to have a warriors name like mossshade. she'd be abandoned by nightstar when she was a very young kit, young enough to probably not even remember him or the clans. so... her actual name should logically be mosskit (sort of like how ravenpaw permanently kept the paw suffix even in adulthood), or just chavra. but i really reallyyyy like the little name parallel between mossshade and meadowstar so 😭😭😭 maybe she gets her warrior name later in the au once she's reconnected with the clans. and it'd also be really cute if meadowstar was the one to give her her name after he returns!!
also i've been wondering if i should change her prefix to mossy, since moss ends with s and shade starts with it. idk if there's any other instance of a prefix ending and a suffix starting with the same letter in warrior cat naming, so i'm unsure if it's normal or a bit of an eyesore. mossyshade doesn't sound particularly bad, but eh. 🤷
saying this here again like i did in my last post but she's the product of a short, secret affair that happened between nightstar + meadowstar, despite their longstanding animosity/feud with one another. because there is literally no way for me to translate her clone origin story into a warrior cats context. i'd imagine nightstar got rid of her not only because he wasn't interested in raising a kit during such a contentious time, but also because her basically identical similarity to meadowstar is undeniable and extremely obvious. he wouldn't want the forbidden affair he had with his literal nemesis (who is also the fellow leader of another clan) to get out. not like he's a staunch carer of the warrior code or anything. just out of pride. because of this, basically everyone is entirely unaware of her existence (including meadowstar), and she is entirely unaware of her origin.
anyways here's a size comparison between her and meadowstar!! ^^ considering how both of her father's are very large cats (especially nightstar), i'm sure she'll end up growing some more... eventually. it's in her blood to be a big ass cat lol.
#mossshade you are so pretty#my art#kirby#warrior cats#catstruck#starstruck#kirby oc#sorry i keep flooding the kirby oc tag with my warrior cattified kirby ocs. hope you can forgive me#chavra pendragon
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Omg what did the gym next door to you do
before covid it was a different, normal gym. i liked that gym. the building looked like a normal building. their members/employees were respectful. they maintained their parking lot and the foliage on the sidewalk. they never had any of the cars that would park in their lot when there was no street parking left towed. they were good neighbors, basically.
then covid hit and they went out of business and another gym bought the building but because of covid they couldn't have people inside. so they set up a gym in their parking lot WITH A DJ AND BLASTED MUSIC STARTING AT 5AM IN WHAT IS OTHERWISE A RESIDENTIAL AREA. every single day. 5am to like 10pm. annoying ass club remixes of songs plus the sounds of people grunting plus the sounds of weights being dropped. and like, the parking lot is right up against a wall of apartment bedrooms. an entire building of people were woken up every morning by this (and kept from going to bed any earlier than 10pm)
and THEN when covid restrictions were lifted and they moved everything back inside, they painted the outside of the building BLACK and gave it a red sign and it is sooooooooo fucking ugly. it is an eyesore and not in the cool, interesting, fuck the HOA way. it is an eyesore in the annoying i-do-crossfit-and-that-makes-me-better-than-you way.
and their members/employees hang out in the parking lot (which i want to remind you is right outside of a building of bedroom windows) playing music from their cars and smoking and generally being obnoxious well into the night.
and they have cars towed from their parking lot, despite the parking lot never being full anyway.
but the thing that irritates me the MOST is that they changed the name of the gym to something sooooooooooooooo infuriatingly stupid and unfortunately i can't tell you what the name of it is without doxxing myself but it's kind of like when an anti-abortion group calls themselves pro-life, despite making no efforts whatsoever to support actual life.
i hate them so much.
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✨ and 🥳 for the ask game ?
✨️ Out of the comments you’ve received on your fics, what are two or three of your favorites?
Ooo, this is so hard to choose... Here's a few....
>>“Could we PLEASE move those bananas off the altar! They’re an eyesore! What a baleful affront to Lord Ganon.”
This made me laugh so hard! I could hear Astor's voice so clearly!
I like how you write the villainous trio! They're so well done. Astor, ambitious and sort of grumpy, really thinking the Yiga are beneath him. Kohga is perfectly irreverent. Sooga is quietly scandalized by how rash Astor seems to him.
I'm enjoying this so far. Special mention to the cinematic mirroring of Zelda and Astor's actions.
(Also I liked the grandness of the prologue ♡) - Sturms_Sun_Shattered, Chapter 2 of Desired Fate.
Everything match to make a believable history and legend for Lorule, down to tiniest details. Despite of the similarities with Hyrule, it's amazing to see how different the triforce bearers of Lorule and their dinamics are. It kind of...fit that Hope would trust Beauty and ignore Reason, then only dim when listening to Reason when Beauty proves deceptive. Their fated cycle of reincarnation seems a much sadder one than that of Hyrule. The trifoces of Lorule seem more beautiful, and those of Hyrule more austerious... Yet, there is hope in Hyrule for all bright hearts after their duty is fillufiled, and they can know true peace however brief. While Lorule is likely fated to slowly descend into despair once danger is dealt with, and the remaining bearers, to live in gloom until a new bearer for Beauty is born for the dance of distrust and betrayal to begin over again. No wonder they would want to destroy their heavy bearing Trifoce.
I'm impressed.
You seem to be a brillant person.
On another hand, I wonder how you plan to explain that the bearer of Beauty has a huge crooked nose and can't seem to know good taste in clothing himself. Jokes are good, but really, how? - Chrysale (Silvara) on Chapter 18 of The Legend of Hilda.
Alright, I jumped the gun on that one, I thought chapter 24 was the end and I was clearly mistaken. I'm glad I was, though, because I love chapters like this, showing the aftermath of the big finale and how life slowly goes back to normal. Let me tell you, you really have a talent for making these unlikely pairings work, I never thought I'd be rooting for Yuga and Hilda, but you got me there. Astor and Zelda, though, that's even more of a challenge, Astor was such a dimensionless, one-note antagonist and the both of them really had no relationship whatsoever in the game, but you brought to life a colorful and compelling relationship between them that we actually get to see being built. The end result in this chapter, the two being happy and celebrating their soon to be family was so heartwarming and satisfying. I just have to say, that physician, daaamm, the man's lucky he still has a head, Zelda has patience and mercy like no one else, I mean, who the hell does he think he is? Anyway, another scene that impacted me was Zelda and Astor going to the tech lab to pick up the guardian only for their trauma to make taking it to their home and having it near their family unthinkable, ptsd is real. This was a fantastic chapter and an amazing ending! Well done! - Prometheus17 on epilogue of Desired Fate (fanfiction.net)
🥳 Why did you start writing fanfic?
No one else was writing the sort of thing I wanted to read... Or they did, but then abandoned the fic. T_T
Thanks @lize-the-prophetprophet for the ask!
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Sinn/Inez + flower shop and tattoo shop owners AU
@kimsgoeun
Sinn looks like any other tattoo artist: wears dark colors, has more tattoos than can be counted at a glance. Some are cohesive pieces and others are a mish-mash of random things.
Inez only took up work at the flower shop next door there because she needed to pay her bills and a friend that was leaving their employment there swore that it was a "chill and easy" job. Easy didn't matter to Inez, but something lowkey was certainly welcomed. She didn't expect to stick to it for long anyway.
Whenever Sinn was taking her break outside of the tattoo shop, Inez was often outside arranging and pruning the flowers. She stood out too, which at first Inez didn't think mattered. She too wore darker and neutral colors, skinny jeans, some boots. She looked more fitted for a tattoo shop herself than being surrounded by vibrant, delicate flowers. To her great displeasure, that thought occurred to Sinn who liked to tease her about it. Incessantly.
Inez was beginning to hate working at the flower shop. She dreaded seeing Sinn next door and tried to time her breaks to be different from Sinn's. However, Sinn started to drop by the shop itself and mindlessly browse the flowers while bothering her.
One day, being fed up with her, Inez brought over some flowers. Yellow carnations for disdain and disappointment and black roses with the sharpest thorns she could find for hatred and revenge. It was a kind of an eyesore of a bouquet, but Sinn was delighted to see Inez take the initiative for once to come see her nonetheless. And while the flowers didn't hold a positive meaning Inez still took the time to pick them out and give them to her so she must've not hated Sinn that much. Sinn didn't know what the flowers meant anyway until Inez explained it, which only served for the gesture to further backfire on Inez because Sinn pointed out that Inez had had to put thought into which flowers to choose. The pricks from the thorns was not worth the trouble in the end for Inez.
Ever since that moment Sinn spent even more time bothering Inez and it had become an expected routine for them both.
Inez eventually put in her two weeks notice to the owner of the flower shop and debated whether to tell Sinn or not. The days passed faster than she realized and soon it was her last day and she still hadn't said anything.
During their break (because by now they both took their lunches at the same time again despite all the times Inez swore "this is the last time!") Inez told Sinn she was quitting and probably wouldn't see her again. When Sinn whined about not being told sooner Inez brushed her off and said, "I thought about it and wasn't sure if I wanted to, but I'm telling you now."
That was the first time she saw Sinn genuinely upset with her and though she reminded herself of all the times Sinn got on her nerves, Inez still felt a little guilt about it.
Despite saying their awkward goodbyes, Inez came back to the tattoo shop later on to try and reconcile. She also gave Sinn a nicer bunch of flowers. Against her better judgement.
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You do know people can like content without supporting the creator right? Aren't you a fnaf fan? And a sonic fan despite the movies being made by Zionist? It's actually pretty common among both Hellaverse and HP fans. That's how consuming things critically works.
You realize sonic is much bigger than the movies and has tons of people behind everything right? Including the movies? I pirate that shit anyway. Who TF even buys paramount plus
And that as long as Scott isn't getting my money it's also far different! Bc with both sonic and FNAF the series aren't SEEPING with the writers clear views on queer ppl, POC, sa victims, addicts, sex workers... I'm sure I'm missing someone lmao.
The thing that makes Hazbin like HP is that you cannot take away the clear bigotry in everything and have any form of content.
Also the show just sucks dude. The writing is dog shit. The character design is an eyesore. The jokes are unfunny and edgy. Everything about is is just. Bad. Its so manufactured and boring even down to the music despite the music being made by someone with a pretty good amount of skill.
You ever think about how viv abuses her staff and then makes them draw those overcomplicated ass child designs lmao
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OMNISPHERE 2
I JUST DOWNLOADED WOW!!!! and in comparison, to Native Instruments. a big difference. I'm going to try not to sound like a complete hater because Karma is a rough thing on the inner regions that will mess you up totally.
Okay I Purchased Komplet solely for the purpose of getting Abynth 5
but when I got it I did not know you had to set up kontakt since anthing else never needed a player anyway. I've bought plugins before, and it never needed these things before. Long rabbit hole depression story later. I somehow figured it out on my own. which nobody explained to me beforehand.
which I know indicates I'm not very bright. Perhaps...
anyway
I buckled down and bought Omnisphere despite what I heard some guy on youtube said Omnisphere is overrated. Now coming from a guy who makes Beats. He says. I would imagine he needs a more minimal Pallet of sounds. comprisingly of drums dominantly which is fine. I do not scoff, and another guy who he is in a back and forth "war" about the community and what not. and the guy is doing a complete.
hate on bringing their own children into it. with accusations of evil demons and hating on each other's women, I think. and then the other guy stated omnisphere is now deleted from his computer because CPU issues and so on. and Later in another video He does a video where he reinstalls Omnisphere.
As entertaining as this can be I find it dizzying.
One article on google said you needed like 200 GBs to install the software for content and to record with it.
and you may need to use a an external drive to store these plugins.
from todays experience this is not true at all.
And honestly, I wish I did not buy the Komplete 3 years ago. It really fucked me up emotionally spiritually and physically. which I can't blame it entirely on Native Instrument people. In the end I blame myself for not completely moving on which I tried and it wayed heavily on my mind and was reminded by this mistake often by my significate other.
In comparrison. having what I paid for three years ago I feel vindicated. Now comparing the two companies.
Komplete. Its good I feel like now I didn't waste my money now and I can stop kickng my ASS for it. everything works and now I need to figure out the drum machines.
Now looking at things is an Eyesore. I'm 53 yrs. old and I wear glasses. and I find the menu a little too small and my eyes strain and tear up. If this was not I problem I would not be in the market for other software. also They discontinued Abynth 5 which I think is amazing and my favorite plugin. which is fullfilled my expectations of what it is.
So today I got The Omnisphere 2 because I wanted to get the Bob Moog tribute plugins. but I also wanted the Omnisphere. reason being getting into Hard Synths was another rabbit hole for me. with with novation. but thats another story all together
basically, I don't have space for Moogs all over my office so the plugins are my best option until I get a house.
So Omnisphere off the bat is very intuitive as to what.
I want to record. The sounds are amazing. I've already recorded 3 test tracks just to see what I'm dealing with.
The look and functionality of it is great on the eyes and I'm wearing glasses. I don't need to get a 50-inch screen to see what the hell I'm doing. and the sound menu is easy to read and access. whereas Kontakt is confusing. despite the fact it does work and is competent. and yet Omnisphere has better sounds. at this point I don't see why Kontakt is so necessary to a DAW. because a daw never needs Kontakt to be able to use any plugin before. this is what
really messed me up.
Another issue I was worried I got the Omnisphere would I need Kontakt, would it open in my Daw? and would it take a big chunk of GB's? Well the 200 GB scenario is only true with Komplete I had 800 plus GBs on my laptop now down to 630 GBs I thought I needed the whole thing when I only needed Absynth and other ambient sounds.
I'm very happy about that it only took about 64 GBs and honestly the sounds are richer fuller and you can shape it with in the preset itself which tickled me pink. I thought I needed to add other reverbs delay. which does work with Komplete but seems more functional and precise with Omnisphere.
It basically boils down to preference. it the realm of cars. Komplete is more like a gas guzzling Hummer with the promise of Tattoos babes chic Jeans baby gap the gap, pottery barn, flip flops, crocs, a Pitbull a bad ass status with bells and WHISTLES. with a man bud or smooth bald head and lots of finger tattoos.
Omnisphere is more fuel efficient sturdy reliable. there are no tattoos unless you want them and no perfectly groomed beard and and your involved in a realistic loving relationship.
I love the Abynth but the others is lacking to my expectations. which I will buy Plasmonic from the creator Brian Clevinger. later. I'm also getting other Plugins as well. so, You can have both if you want.
You probably have more money than I do and that's not a shocker. Im just glad I don't to spend more money than I have. what a bad Lesson I had to learn. Very bad extremely bad so bad, evil depressing bad.... and bad bad bad andfilm score 2 more times BAD PI
You can both and more. Just don't let the fan boys tell you otherwise.. Im sure they got paid for their review . I for one paid for everything and lost then gained it back somehow by divine intervention.
get them both if you like. if you need to make beats get the drums you like. if you like filmscore get Omnisphere
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