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5eraphim · 1 year

Note

Thinking about Medic fucking up his captive s/o so bad that they develop psychotic delusions of him being a god.. (Medic would probably just enable it because he loves the idea of his darling worshipping him and obeying everything he says <3)

YOUR MINDDDDD!!! This was so fun to write, thank you so much for the request ＼(^o^)／

(I didn't know if you were expecting a oneshot or headcanons, but I really wanted to write something lewd about this, hope that works for you! Reader is kept gender neutral here ✌️)

Summary: Reader suffers visions of lust for the divine, a secret kept hidden for some time now. But the darker the confession the more painful the penance, especially when Medic is the enforcer. And while atonement is necessary for salvation, the guilt always remains.

Character: Medic 🕊️ (Team Fortress 2)

Rating: X (MINORS DNI!)

Content Warnings: Heirophilia, priest kink, guilt tripping, BLASPHEMY, yandere, mind break, blood, needles (Or whatever the hell you want to call the vita saw), abuse of power, handjob

Word Count: 5k

MASTER LIST

TIP JAR

(Song Inspo- Cirice, Ghost)

"Call upon Me in the day of trouble: I will deliver you, and you shall honour me." (Psalm 50:15)

"The Lord favors those who fear him, Those who wait for His faithfulness." (Psalms 147:11)

Breaking the room's silence, you heard a heavy wooden door creak open, sending a shiver down your spine. All day dark storm clouds covered any sunlight which might've peaked through the glass windows of your homemade chapel domicile, but even without sunset, you knew it must've been hours into the night. And for hours, you knelt on the lightly padded kneeler in front of the makeshift stone table you called your alter. The chapel was humble, hardly more expansive than a garage, but constructed with the utmost reverence to your Holiness. The small space allowed for little more than the altar, a pew, a few kneelers, a foldable wall to serve as your confessional booth, a bookshelf that held all your precious scriptures, and some candles to adorn the place, as well as to provide the only source of light in the room. Once, you kept a bed to rest on behind the pew, but now you slept on the bench, using nothing more than a towel for a pillow and a single sheet as a blanket. It was uncomfortable, but you would endure any discomfort to prove to your divine one that you needed nothing but this to get by.

There was a numb ache in your knees from remaining in this position for so long, becoming harder and harder to ignore the longer you forced yourself to stay in this position. Some candles around the altar burnt themselves out long ago, casting angular twisting shadows along the walls surrounding you. But despite how the serpentine darkness unnerved you, causing you to jump every now and then at an odd flickering shape just out of the corner of your eye, you dared not move. The only sound in the room, save for the steady pattering of rain outside, were the verses of scripture you resited again, and again, and again, murmuring under your breath. At the same time, you nervously fiddled with the beads of your rosary. You tried your best to focus all your energy on praying the rosary, but your mind was restless, and no force of will was enough to distract you from the guilt gnawing away at your conscience.

It was agony to endure this guilt, and you prayed desperately to see your Holy Guardian return soon, though upon hearing his arrival, you were far from comforted. Your vespers halted when the heavy wooden door creaked open, causing you to instinctively look over your shoulder behind you. Your beloved Father was finally home. "Are you still up, my Child?"

You swallowed nervously, unable to formulate any words. All day you dreaded the moment your Holy Father would return home, and now here he was, several paces away. Then, for just a moment, he stood at the door as you watched him remove his glasses to try and wipe away the raindrops. You watched him walk forward, withdrawing his damp overcoat, which fluttered like bird's wings behind him as he ran a hand through his wet hair to push away some of the water. Medic wasn't precisely drenched, but you couldn't help but notice how his damp clothing clung to his body, his broad athletic build clearly visible, even in the low lighting. You were so momentarily distracted by this you completely forgot he asked you a question until he stood almost directly behind you.

"You look unwell, little one. How long have you been here praying?" "I am unsure, Father." The concern in his eyes only worsened the suffocating guilt inside you.

"Sit with me then. Tell me what is troubling you." Medic watched as you attempted to pull yourself up. Still, the tension and numbness in your body were too great, and you stumbled a little, catching yourself on the high part of the kneeler, almost dropping your rosary in the process, which you quickly stuffed into your pocket. While still clearly concerned, Medic smiled gently, using his own hands to help hold you steady as he gently pulled you to your feet. You couldn't help but flush slightly, feeling his strong hands against your shoulders and back, aiding you to walk to the nearby pew. Time must've really escaped you, as standing upright and walking aggravated the ache in your knees. You held onto his hands for balance as you gingerly sat down, your legs trembling slightly, threatening to slacken at any minute. He sat beside you, causing you to unconsciously scoot away a little closer to the corner of the bench, and you bit your lip nervously, feeling your knees touching as he turned to face you slightly. The guilt you tried so hard to keep at bay all day now felt all-consuming. Still, despite the anxiety written across your face, Medic smiled, his eyes gentle and loving. It took all your strength not to wince when you felt his hands around your own. His gloves did nothing to downplay the intimacy of the moment.

"Tell me your troubles, Child. Open up to me, and I will listen." It was too hard to look him in the eye, to see the compassionate affection exhibited by your Savior, which you knew you didn't deserve. But, if you wanted to do the right thing, you knew it was time, to tell the truth.

"Heavenly Lord, I fear I have- um, I find myself troubled by certain, um… These awful visions in the night. Deep while I am sleeping. I see things I don't want to see and think things I don't want to. I feel this awful burning in the night, but when I awaken again, I can't- well, I can't describe it, but I feel so ashamed."

He squeezed your hands a little, causing you to briefly meet his eye, now colored by curiosity, before looking back down. You wanted so badly not to have to tell him what you saw, hoping naively simply confessing to the visions would be enough, but you could tell he wouldn't be content with that. "Oh? And what do you see?"

"I don't want to say… It's embarrassing, and I feel wrong thinking about it now." He leaned a little closer, his voice still gentle but with a definite edge.

"I can see that, but my Child, how can I absolve you of a sin you can't even confess? Am I not your salvation incarnate?" Your head jolted straight up, eyes wide.

"Yes, you are, my Lord! You are my light, my life- I would never doubt this!" Although he remained unconvinced, he could tell you were hiding something, and you weren't about to get out of this until he knew what it was.

"And do you doubt there is a sin so severe I can not absolve you of?" Chewing your lower lip nervously, you shook your head no slightly. Looking at his hands around yours as you spoke in a frail, unsteady voice.

"I see you, my Lord. But, I also see us together, but not as we should be." He said nothing, waiting for you to continue.

"I see us, or rather, I see you over me… I don't know how to describe it, though-"

Medic interrupted in a firm voice. "Tell me the truth." Your shame brought you nearly to tears.

"I see your body over mine- over my naked body… I see your hands stroking my skin and your mouth against my neck and shoulders. A-and everywhere you touch me, I burn, and it hurts, but I can't stop wanting more! We're on the altar bed, and-" Your breath hitched when you felt his fingers moving against your hands as though trying to urge you on, clearly sensing how bad you wanted out. And you couldn't help but fluster and stammer at this smallest, seemingly innocent, caring act.

"I know this is wrong- I don't want to think like this, I swear! But once these- these awful dreams start, I cannot stop them! And all I am so blinded by the image of my body against yours, as we- As we become one, my Lord."

Getting those final words out took so much effort, but now it is over. You told Medic everything.

Your heart wrenched as you saw his expression form into one of an almost pitiful disappointment. "I always feared it would come to this…." He trailed off. He pulled his hands away from yours as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He removed his glasses with one hand, rubbing his eyes tiredly with the other. Medic looked as though he somehow saw this coming, like he was privy to something you were utterly blind to. You pulled your hands back to your own lap as your fingers fidgeted restlessly. Nothing hurt more than letting down your Lord; sitting with this feeling only amplified your considerable guilt. Finally, you forced yourself to look him in the eye. He was already disappointed. You didn't want him to think you were more pathetic than you already felt.

"My Lord, I'm telling you the truth- These awful dreams, these visions disrupting my sleep at night, I can't understand where they come from. I don't mean to offend you; I just-" Your gaze dropped from Medic's face to your hands wringing anxiously in your lap. You no longer had the strength to look him in the eye, summoning all your resolve to force yourself not to cry. After all, what right did you have acting so pitifully before him? You were the sinner after all, yet here you were, cowering before your Lord. Weak, feeble, in need of his mercy and guidance.

"I suppose this isn't entirely your fault… I always knew this was coming. Perhaps I didn't expect this so soon, is all." You snuck a peek up at his face, and to your surprise, he didn't look disappointed as you feared, but something different you couldn't understand entirely. Still, you felt too unworthy to look upon his face much longer, bowing your head a little, facing your lap, trying not to think about how despite the situation, you felt so warm sitting so close to your Holiness, knees only barely connecting.

"Please, Father, I don't understand what you mean." He shifted his weight away from you slightly, leaning against the back of the pew, sighing through his nose, contemplating his following words carefully.

"I thought I noticed how your eyes seemed to follow my hands as I guided you in prayer. Or how some evenings you wouldn't follow my eyes, somewhat- distracted by my lips. Yes, I've always known how the human mind can be swayed by thoughts of lust and decadence… But maybe I was wrong for thinking you were strong enough to resist such… carnal impulses. You were all too aware of the tears prickling in the corners of your eyes.

"But I told you- I never asked for this! You know I'm not to blame here!" All in an instant, you felt a cold shiver run up your spine as you watched all former warmth and kindness vanish from his face all at once as he stared you down with his icy cold, narrowed blue eyes. "You think this absolves you of anything, sinner?" You were about to speak to try and defend yourself, but he cut you off before you got the chance.

"You are nothing but full of pride and arrogance if you think you're somehow holy for merely wishing your sins away! I never thought you were so foolish, so childish, but it would appear I was all wrong about you-"

"Don't say that, please, my Lord, I didn't- I mean no offense, you must believe me! I need you now more than ever! I'm so confused. Please tell me how I can atone for all of this!"

Your hands were clasped tightly as you begged the Medic to show you mercy. You didn't mean to offend him or cast doubt upon your devotion, but you were terrified. You desperately grabbed onto his hands, tears beginning to fall, your breathing erratic. You couldn't think clearly. You were too desperate to somehow prove to him you were worthy. But he continued to look at you coolly, his blue eyes harsh and stern. It was impossible to hold eye contact. Your mind was so wracked with guilt for what you'd done. Thankfully he spoke next in a more level voice.

"Tell me, my Child, and I want to hear the truth. When you think of these dreams, have you been touching yourself as well?" Instantly on the defensive, your face heated as you try to explain yourself.

"No! No- I haven't! I wouldn't do that to you- I wouldn't dare!" He looked at you skeptically, his lips pressed firmly together in a straight line. You could feel fresh tears sliding down your face. "My Lord, you must believe me! I'm sorry I was so greedy- I'm sorry I dreamt such perverse things while you were gone, but you know I wouldn't go so far!"

Unfortunately, he appeared to remain unconvinced. Medic softly petted the top of your head with a gloved hand, he didn't seem convinced, but at least his anger appeared quelled. Once again, you felt so overcome by the shame of your own actions you buried your face in his chest, momentarily forgetting your sense of restraint, unable to think of anything but doing whatever you needed in the name of forgiveness. Murmuring apologies and pleas for mercy between sobs, no doubt streaking tears into his vestments. Over and over in your head, you screamed at yourself. "Why did I have to lose control like that?" "How could I be so weak!"

"Please, my heavenly Father, I would rather die than betray you! I love you more than anything! But, just please, please, please tell me you believe me!"

He waited for you to quiet down a touch before he responded. "I wish I could have my Child. But you've disobeyed me." The moment these words left his lips, your heart sunk like a rock, as you felt frozen in place, unable to believe what was happening. It was like you'd just felt the air knocked from your lungs. You felt Medic's hand continuing to pet the top of your head.

"My dearest child, I'm afraid if you want me to believe you are faithful and to believe you are pure, you must pay." With your head still pressed against his body, your voice mumbled but still understandable, "Heavenly Father, whatever I must do to prove my faith, I will. Without fear and without any doubt." Medic's hand drifted from the back of your head to the side of your face to guide your head up to meet him at eye level.

"You'll do anything?" Without missing a beat, you answered. "Anything."

Medic nodded. "There is a way. I can absolve you of all your sins, but only for a price. If you truly wish to purify yourself of such… carnal thoughts of yours, all your distractions leading you from Holiness. I can forgive you of your perversions and restore your devotion to your Father. But, this will cost you." You could tell he was testing you, but there was no threat of pain dire enough to sway you now.

"My life is yours, My Lord. Do to me whatever it takes to make me pure again." He studied your face briefly, trying to tell if there was any final hesitation, but you were resolute. "All you need to do is obey. Follow my word, and have faith. Believe that I am your God and your Savior."

"I can." And with that, he nodded, rising. "Kneel at the pulpit for me. I'll join you there in just a moment." Eagerly your rose. Whatever ache you felt earlier was forgotten entirely. Kneeling once again before the altar reminded you of your cause. You were to live and serve your Divine Lord; if he wanted you to prove it, then you would. But when you saw the Medic returning, you couldn't help but shudder, all too aware of the fear you tried so hard to silence.

Medic held a kind of insidious instrument in his hand you'd never seen before. Your eye instantly draws to the wicked sharp tip, the awful needle easily the length of your forearm over a shorter yet wicked sharp blade. The hollow bulb at the back of the device made the thing look like some kind of mechanical mosquito, and you were about to be its prey. Your mouth went dry, and you felt dizzy just looking at the thing. Still, you forced yourself to remain as still as a statue, turning your gaze from the device to Medic.

"The price you must pay for your penance will be a blood price." The closer he walked, or rather, the closer the weapon got, the more sinister it appeared. If looking at it was terrifying, the idea of it going inside of you was even worse, but deep down, you knew this was what you deserved, and you brought this on yourself. So no matter how terrifying the punishment, you had no one to blame but yourself. Medic drew close enough to stand right behind you. With his free hand, he held yours, turning it upright, before using his fingers to try and find a vein in your upper arm, right above your elbow.

Goosebumps prickled all across your body when you felt the tip of the needle make contact with your arm. You could feel yourself breathing a bit heavier, your knuckles going while as you gripped the edge of the kneeler with your free arm, your other palm disappearing as you closed your hand into a tight fist.

"Now focus on me, think of only me. Let your God guide you back to the light, it will hurt, but only for a moment, and you'll be restored once it's over. Do you accept your penance?"

It will only hurt more if you watch, you reasoned with yourself, so with your eyes squeezed as tight as possible, you spoke. "I accept." While the initial pick of the needle's tip against your skin terrified you, the feeling of the needle digging into your flesh hurt all the more. The sting was far, far worse than any needle before. It was impossible to keep from wincing or to hold in your yelp of pain as you felt the needle burrow in deeper.

"Steady now. I need you still. If you move too much, we'll have to start all over."

You let go of your grip on the kneeling, biting down on your own knuckle to keep from screaming. If only you had something to hold onto in the hand being drained, but you had nothing but your own fist to tense down on.

"Now I'm going to pull blood. This is going to hurt. Just remember this is for your own good."

It was almost impossible to talk, but through grit teeth, you tried anyway. "Thank you, my Holy Father." And without another word, you felt Medic begin to drain your blood.

He was right. It hurt. The unbearable tension you felt from your teeth and skull all the way down to your curled toes burned like hell. It was hard to hear anything over your heavy breathing and the occasional whine of pain, but that was for the best. The idea of listening to this awful thing as it sucked your life away sounded far worse. How long has it been like this? How much longer would he keep you here? You had no idea, but it was becoming harder and harder to stay still by the second, and you were afraid you wouldn't last much longer.

You wanted to look at the altar, to remind yourself why you were doing all this, to think of anything to distract from the pain, but it was impossible to open your eyes. But instead, you swore you could feel a numbness in your fingertips and in your toes. Your head felt so heavy and tense, and you found yourself wondering, if only for a second, if Medic was done with you all together and if this was your last moment before death.

Then, just as soon as it started, you felt Medic pressing down over where he injected the needle before pulling out in one decisive strike. This was far worse than the insertion, the pain white hot, causing you to arch your back, your head falling back as you screamed in agony. The ache was terrible enough, but the nausea was just as miserable. When you felt Medic's hands leave your body, you slipped forward, panting, your upper body clinging to the top of the kneeler for dear life. It felt like the room was spinning or like the floor was about to give out at any second. The pain you felt before in this spot felt like a joke compared to what you felt now.

"Blessed are you, my Child. You have come to me with your sins, and I send you forth, cleansed and pure again. You have put yourself at the mercy of the divine, and you have been granted forgiveness."

"I don't feel so good…." You were still slumped over the kneeler. It was impossible to think of anything but the pain. You weren't even proud of yourself for withstanding it. All you wanted was to fall asleep. To wake up to a new day and to pretend none of this happened. Medic must've put the device away as you could now feel both his hands rubbing little circles against your back. You didn't want to think about what he wanted to do with your blood, the terrible needle was gone now, and that was all that mattered.

"Without sin, salvation is empty. You hurt now, but take comfort knowing the pain you feel is all your sin and weakness leaving your body."

You tried to nod, but you were too weak to remain upright. Your head began to bob forward as your body went limp. Fortunately, Medic immediately caught you, keeping you from falling directly to the ground. You didn't even know how you were still awake, but you felt like a rag doll, limp and no longer in control of your body. You could feel Medic supporting your total weight, guiding you back to the pew, laying you down, your head resting on his lap. You felt so terribly cold, curling up into a ball on your side. You were about to give in to the drowsiness all together, but only in turning your head to the side did you notice the straining fabric of Medic's trousers. "You did well for your Savior. Would you allow me to reward you for faith?"

For a second, you considered if this was a trick if Medic were baiting you, giving you one last test of the night. After all, actually seeing your Holy Lord in such a state after dreaming about him for so long, it all felt too good to be true. But to your surprise, when you turned your gaze upward to look Medic in the eye, you noticed how wide his pupils were, the flush or arousal on his cheeks, the teasing half-smile. You realized just as likely as this was a test to see if you really could fight back against your lust. Perhaps this was another test of your loyalty? It was impossible to tell, and you felt a familiar confused fear resurfacing.

"My God, I'm honored, but I fear I am unworthy…." Fortunately, he wasn't offended by your hesitation.

"To indulge in the sins of the flesh would be a mortal sin for any other, but you must know- I am no man. I am your Divine. To service me is an act of Holiness. Allow me to guide your hands." Your mind was caught in a whirlwind of exhaustion and desire, it was impossible to think clearly, but you were helpless to feel the need burning inside you. It was weak, and you didn't have the strength to give in together, but you were ready to take the opportunity while you could. The unstoppable desire to serve and to give everything you had to your Master.

He looked at you with eyes glimmering, shining with love and the faintest smile, "Sweet lamb, your desires are only unholy when you indulge in secret, away from me. But now that I am here to bless and guide you- If it is my mortal vessel you are so taken by, show me your devotion." You knew he was right, and you wanted to give in. You wanted to trust and have faith, but you couldn't help but hesitate. It was almost impossible to remember life before Medic, but you were confident you weren't nearly experienced enough to please him as he deserved. The idea of being put on the spot, of your Lord coming to you of all people for something like this? The opportunity filled you equally with anxiety as ecstasy.

"You are my salvation. My sole purpose for living is to worship and serve you. I owe you everything I have. To indulge myself like this- I don't understand how I could be worthy. I adore you, but am I enough?" Your words had no effect on him. If anything only spurred him on.

"Don't be so shy, my little saint. You've done so well to prove to me your devotion, and now I want you to show it. Take my hand." And with that final command, you obeyed.

You dumbly felt your head repositioned on Medic's lap as he undid his pants, pulling his undergarments down with them enough to comfortably free himself from the restrictive fabric. If you weren't feeling half-dead, you might've had the shame to look away, but now, all you could do was take in the sight before you. You felt like an outside observer, out of body and entirely at the whims of another, but still, you couldn't deny it felt good. Better than good. You were somehow flushed and tingly inside, feeling so pure and yet filled with lust, a sensation you'd never known before, as though your entire life had built up to this moment. All in the service of your God.

Medic was already quite hard, and you watched intently as he took your hand. His glove already pulled off, and you couldn't help but shudder at the skin-to-skin contact. With your hand open, he licked along the length of your index finger before he closed his lips around the digit. You never realized how many sensitive nerves were in your hand until you felt his mouth around your fingers. His skilled tongue wrapped around your fingers, coating each one with a bit of saliva. You felt his cheeks sucking in as he sucked a little harder, the lewd noises making the moment feel all the more erotic.

After he had his fun with this, you felt the chilly draft against the now wet flesh. Though for only a moment as your hand was pulled down to make contact with his warm flesh. He sharply breathed in through grit teeth, using his hand to tightly wrap yours against the shaft before applying a little friction. Even in your current state of mind, you could feel the tension in his body, and you felt so honored and privileged to witness your Holy Master consumed with lust. He was more beautiful than any man, angel, or devil you'd ever dreamed of.

It was hard to keep up, but you did your best to use your slick fingers to massage the flesh beneath his tight hold. You felt a holy kind of pride as you watched his brow scrunch, a breathy moan amid his panting, knowing you were doing so well to honor your God like no one else. Then, despite the vertigo, you forced your head to move, to use what little strength you had left to connect your lips to the wet head of his cock, and to kiss your Master, tongue out, ready to merge. It felt like your lips only connected with his anatomy for a moment before you felt him reach his climax. His breathy moaning and thrusting against you put all your initial erotic dreams to shame. You couldn't believe your Lord allowed you to see him like this, more charming than ever before. Even in your haze, you could feel the warmth of his body against yours.

When you rolled onto your back to lay on the bench more comfortably, you felt as though you could still feel his vitality, the essence within you. You were too numb to sense if any of the mess landed on you, but you were vaguely aware of the sensation of him rubbing around his lap and maybe even on you with a cloth to collect what he could of the mess. You wrapped your arms around yourself, sighing with bliss. With a gentle touch, Medic caressed the side of your face with his four fingers before you felt his thumb tap against your slightly parted lips.

"Swallow. This is the salvation you've awaited."

Your eyes were already shut, and you were thankful his touch was so gentle as he pushed the cum stuck to his finger into your mouth, which you happily allowed to pass your lips as you suckled. Then, finally, he pulled his finger out, running his thumb over your lips, trailing your saliva over them as he stroked the side of your face. But moments before you nodded off, you whispered, "My Lord, will you promise to pray for me? Will you pray I will one day be worthy to receive your grace? That we can become one?"

You weren't even sure if he heard your final words, everything was going black, and your mind was lost in the haze. Before slipping away into oblivion, your last memories were the lethargy possessing your body, his fingers in your hair, a salty aftertaste on your tongue, and the pattering of rain, sounding further and further away.

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jazzhandsmcleg · 9 months

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it's been a while since I made a text post. so here's one now.

getiting ready to moooove it's all very exciting and very dreadful. nice place good company (hi Lizzie) slightly better commute vs. the horrors of slinging everything I own around in 90F/32C+ degree heat and deep-cleaning two (2) separate domiciles and wrangling both new and old neighbors. also no dishwasher in the new place. I'm bummed about that and I hardly even use the one I do have.

I'm reading Arkady Martine's Teixcalaan duology and having a great time. in particular I want to squish A Desolation Called Peace between my hands like a stress ball. 75ish pages to go.

my bank account was hacked over the weekend; symptoms: check for $4200 cashed to a complete stranger. got that back today. gonna use $300 of it to buy a digital piano (!) sometime this week, whenever the seller gets back to me. sheet music included.

honorable news mentions: bankruptcies, beans, missing water bottle o-rings, long lists of things to do, kittens, the elusiveness of a decent sleep schedule, etc. bottom line: things are busy but surprisingly okay!

time to eat something (see: beans) and go to bed (see: elusiveness of a decent sleep schedule) so that I can do things other than work and lie around tomorrow (see: long lists of things to do).

I am hoping that YOU (yes, you) are doing well :)

#food mention #Jazz notes

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thestarkerisobvious · 2 years

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Two Sore Arms - Chapters 1 - 2

by @thestarkerisobvious and @cutepandaprincess

CHAPTER 1

Tony was sore.

Usually the suit took most of the brunt of the violence, but not tonight. Tonight, before Iron Man joined the Avengers in their daring-do, Tony Stark was called upon to join in the daring-do. And the daring-do done did him hard. Tony was feeling his age, tonight.

And his age had something to say.

And his age, he was beginning to realize, really didn’t matter how long he stayed in the gym. No matter how long he stretched. No matter how many vitamin supplements he took to keep these excellent genes from aging. He was still agining. And he was still feeling his age.

And his age was his age.

And his age… hurt.

But he was home, now. And no one would ever know. The bad guy was adverted, the battle was over. Tony could crawl home to his domicile and no one ever, ever, ever had to know how old his body was. He could just crawl into bed and rest for a few days. Rest that was all he needed. And no one would ever know.

That’s where he was. Collapsed helplessly on his couch, aching. Taking stock of how much pain he was in. It wasn’t bad, bad. Not really. Just some over-the-counter stuff and a good night's sleep (And maybe a good long soak in the hot tub. Really, that was all. And then more sleep after that. Probably 2 days worth. Nothing more.)

He was counting his blessings when he heard a noise.

It was a GOOD noise, really, A wonderful noise.

Under normal circumstances.

It was the sound the automatic door made when Peter swung by and landed on the suitpad. It was the door that opened only for him, without announcement.

It was Peter.

His young lover had arrived.

Tony groaned in despair. Dammit, this couldn’t happen. This couldn’t happen! Every fiber of his being protested. If he had any voice he would have called out to FRIDAY to seal him off and tell the boy he wasn’t at home. This couldn’t happen. Tony COULDN’T let this happen.

His young lover couldn’t see him like this - not like this. Not unable to perform. Not up to speed. Oh gods, let this not be happening…

"Daddy?!" Peter sang, the same way he always did whenever he walked into the penthouse.

But he didn’t walk the same way he always did. His step was slower. After a long, LONG, day of school and superhero-ing, Peter was SORE. So sore that nothing he did was helping with it. Maybe one thing was left to try. His Daddy's arms.

"Daddy, I need you."

* * *

Oh god, it was here.

Tony moaned and closed his eyes, trying to hide.

He had dreaded this moment… dammit he thought he had more time.

But it was inevitable. The time had finally come. The moment he had been dreading from the moment he let New York’s favorite superhero into his life.

Peter Parker was about to find out he was dating an old man.

#Two Sore Arms #Starker #Peter Parker/Tony Stark #Tony Stark/Peter Parker #TheWticheway writes stuff #CutePandaPrincess And I Write Together

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voraciousvore · 6 months

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In the Belly of the Giant (17/39)

***Contains a giantess sex scene!***

Chapter 17

Dr. Rajak stepped out of the shower and dried off his hair, deep in thought. He wasn’t sure how to proceed. As he threw on some light casual shorts to sleep in, he mentally chewed on the request that the giant cop had asked of him. Joey had described to him, with poignant grief, how his girlfriend had gone missing, and how several human students had disappeared as well from the boarding school up the street. From the work he had done on the case, Joey strongly suspected organized criminal activity was involved, and the humans had been taken to be sold as slaves. The human woman that Mr. Henderson found seemed to confirm his theory, since she was discovered wearing a slave harness, and had manifestly gone through some sort of trauma. While the doctor felt sympathy for his plight, and the dreadful fate of the humans who had been taken, the giant had then proceeded to ask him to help with the investigation. Essentially, since he was a human, Joey wanted to use him as bait, to lure out the kidnappers. The doctor would allow himself to be kidnapped, and the police would track him to the lair of the dastardly giants.

Of course, such a plan was not without significant risk. He could be severely injured or even killed. If, for some reason, the police weren’t able to keep track of his location, he might end up another victim, another lost soul. The thought was terrifying. His wife had immediately and vehemently objected to the idea right in front of the two giants when they first suggested their idea. She didn’t want to lose him. The doctor had been more clinical in his approach. He told them he’d think about it, and call them back tomorrow with an answer. He hadn’t had the opportunity to discuss the topic with his wife after that. He figured he’d give her some time to cool off and think it over before bringing it up, so they came home with a strained tension between them and went their separate ways to get ready for bed.

Even though the unpalatable notion of being bait was disquieting, Dr. Rajak had a strong sense of duty and moral obligation. He was a man known for his boldness, since he had made the gutsy choice to live in giant society after all. He sought adventure, excitement, and yes, even danger. He didn’t like the idea of being a coward, standing off to the side when he could potentially save the kidnapped humans. Children, no less! How could he live with himself if he refused? He wasn’t the type to stand down in the face of difficult tribulations, not when he had something important to protect.

“Sweetie? Are you coming to bed soon?” his giantess wife’s voice resounded outside the human suite of rooms within their shared domicile. He had been so lost in thought, he forgot she was waiting for him.

“Yes! Give me a minute and I’ll be right out!” he yelled back. He brushed his teeth and ran a comb through his wet hair before he exited into the giant-sized bedroom. His colossal wife was waiting for him, towering above him like a skyscraper, wearing nothing but lacy pink panties with a cute little bow on the front. As always, he was in awe of how sexy she was, with her luxurious curves, slim waist, and giant breasts as full as water balloons. He especially liked to admire her magnificent structure from this angle, when he was standing down below on the carpet.

She reached down with her graceful hands and lifted the doctor up. Her skin was warm and silky soft. She carried him to the bed, lounged out on the mattress, and placed the doctor on one of her mountainous boobs. He bounced lightly on her jiggly breast while playing absently with her giant nipple. He was still thinking about the stolen humans. He glanced over at his wife’s huge, beautiful face, with her coral lips and sparkling sapphire eyes. Her glossy blonde hair cascaded down the bedsheets. He couldn’t imagine the horror of having her taken from him, not knowing if she was dead or being tortured in a dark basement somewhere. Joey must be going through hell, especially with a girlfriend that was so tiny and defenseless against the dangers of the giant world.

“Babe?” he said. “I know we didn’t really get a chance to talk about it... and I know you don’t like the idea... but I think I should help those cops find the missing humans.”

She frowned morosely and huffed. “I figured you’d say that. I know you too well. But that doesn’t mean I like the idea. It’s dangerous. I’d be devastated if anything happened to you.” She stroked the side of his small face with her elegant fingertip. “You’re everything to me.”

“I know, babe,” he replied. “But I can’t stand by and do nothing when there are lives at stake. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself, or my pride as a man.”

She sighed again. “I know.” Her eyes glistened as she held back tears. “Just... don’t get involved in anything that you’ll regret.” Her voice was shaky.

“Aww, babe...” He hopped off her breast and climbed up her slender neck and face to her sensual lips. “You don’t need to worry about me. Everything will be fine.” He leaned in to kiss her, and buried himself in the soft plushness of her lips as she kissed him back. He looked into her watery eyes and caressed her cheek tenderly. He could swim in those eyes, as deep and blue as the ocean.

He recognized that, if he agreed to Joey’s plan and something went wrong, this moment may be the last time he would ever have intimate time alone with her. She needed comforting. He kissed her again and slid down her chin, back to her neck. He hiked up her chest, between the two bulging mountains, running his hands along the smooth, plump skin as he sidled through her cleavage. He walked down her fit belly, admiring her lovely, voluptuous form.

He swore she had the flawless body of a supermodel. He knew the other giant men he worked with, or that the couple came across in their daily lives, were often jealous of him. They were baffled how a man as small as him could satisfy her. Intimacy wasn’t a problem for this couple, however. He knew how to pleasure her, all the quirks of her body that he could stimulate to make her wet. He reached her lacy panties. She was wrapped up like a present just for him, complete with a bow. He pulled down on the pink lace. When she understood what he was doing, she reached down and helped him, sliding the panties down her legs and casting them off with a flick of her dainty foot.

With her delicate, hairless crotch exposed, the doctor slid forward on his belly and began to massage her clitoris with both his small hands. She exhaled with satisfaction and parted her slim thighs slightly so he had better access. He moved lower, rubbing vigorously between the soft rose petals of her genitals where he knew she liked it best, with the meticulous precision of a surgeon. He was talented with not only his fingers, but also his versatile tongue. She grew moist as she began to get aroused. The man, too, was erect with fiery carnal passion. He quickly pulled off his shorts with one hand and tossed them away while continuing to pleasure her with his tongue and his other hand. He had to keep up, since there was a lot of her to please, after all.

He lowered his whole nude body between her legs and slid his arm up inside her, his way of fingering her. He wriggled his arm and hand around inside her warm, wet cavity, groping the squishy flesh inside. Her juices were really starting to flow now. He grinded his hard dick and balls against her wet pussy, thrusting with his hips as he was soaked all over his body with her discharge. He moaned with sublime pleasure. She moaned back as if answering a mating call, with profound satisfaction, and he could feel the sound vibrating through her gigantic body.

Her supple legs spread apart wider as her passions heightened. She wanted him inside her. He happily obliged, sliding his feet and legs into her vagina. He knew from experience not to dive in headfirst, lest he drown in her fluids. He kicked with his legs and wiggled his feet, even his toes, since she was sensitive enough inside to feel the lightest movement. He could feel her heatbeat pounding as blood rushed to her sexual parts. He slipped in further, partially of his own volition but also because her muscular contractions were sucking him in. Before he knew it, he was swimming up to his armpits.

His arms were still on the outside, so he grabbed what he could use as leverage and shoved himself in and out with deep strokes, sliding against her fleshy insides. Her vagina squeezed around him, increasing his own pleasure as his penis was stroked and squeezed. He moved faster and faster until before he knew it in his excitement his arms somehow were inside her too and he was immersed up to his neck. The giantess reached her hand around and gripped his shoulders with her large fingers. Taking care not to submerge him for too long, she stuffed his squirming body completely inside her pussy and maneuvered him around as she pleased, pulling him out so he could breathe before plunging him back in again with renewed vigor.

She performed this same motion several times. He was in tune with every movement of her gargantuan body, every breath and muscle and pulsing vein. The man rubbed his cock up against her slippery vaginal walls, loving every second of his sexual gratification, until he climaxed and shot his seed all over. She took a bit longer, but he was splashed with fluid and squashed with her throbbing muscles when she finally orgasmed. She pulled him out into the comparatively cool air and let him dangle from her thumb and index finger. He was dripping with cum. Both sex partners were breathing hard.

“Ah, that was great sweetie,” the giantess complimented. “Thank you, I feel much better now.” She dropped him in between her ample boobs with a splat.

“The feeling is mutual,” he gasped through a gooey mess of bodily fluids. He tried to hug one of her titties with his arms, as far as he could reach, but he was so lubricated he slid off and slipped down her belly. The giantess laughed and pinched him between two fingers, raising him up again.

“So much for that shower earlier,” he quipped. “I wasn’t expecting you to give me another shower so soon.”

She smirked. “Let’s get you cleaned up so we can sleep.” She got up out of bed and walked towards the bathroom, her hips swaying seductively with her natural gait and her big breasts bouncing. The doctor looked down at her impossibly tall, naked body as she carried him. If he was killed in action or lost, at least he had lived a good life.

Chapter 18

Chapter 1

#giantess #giant women #nsft #in the belly of the giant #gts

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pyrrhiccomedy · 2 years

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Does Heretic’s Mithra have any relation to Mithra or is the name a coincidence?

Please, there are no coincidences.

Anon is asking about the connection between the real-world cult of Mithraism - a Roman mystery cult centered on a god named 'Mithras,' largely practiced by the Roman military, which was a contemporary religion with early Christianity - and the realm of Mithra as it exists in Heretic: a poisonous realm of watery darkness that connects every place to every other place, outside the skin of the world.

Let's keep clear the distinction between those three terms, so this doesn't get confusing: Mithra is the realm; Mithras is the god; Mithraism is the religion worshipping that god.

Most students of the secret world don't fuck around much with Mithra. Unless you have a deep affinity for Knock lore, or you are - God help you - entertaining some kind of Antelucan heresy, there's no need. You can travel towards the Glory without ever passing through Mithra.

And you should, because Mithra is dangerous. From the moment you step into Mithra until the moment you leave, you risk drawing the attention of Mithra's stalking kings. These are silent, vast, implacable hunters, which float through the prismadic darkness of their realm until they catch a glimpse of some trespasser: and then they follow them, endlessly, through any door, anywhere, and claim them. (If you wear a mask - if you never take it off - they might lose you, when you pass out of their realm. Or they might not.)

There was never any...diplomacy between the Calendar of Hours & the Stalking Kings of Mithra. The Calendar rings the Glory, that light which may well have the power to annihilate any mithraic thing that looks upon it, and the Stalking Kings never made any attempt to leave their realm for longer than it took to claim their victims. There were only three Hours which even had the power to visit that place: the Madrugad, the Stranger, & the Ecdysiast.

And then the Intercalation happened. The Stranger became domiciled - she could no longer set foot anywhere beyond the reaches of the Wood - and the Ecdysiast was slain by his daughter the Madderblade. Which left only the Madrugad: the First Hour, the Locksmith, the Hour of Silence, who tends to the wounds of the Sun-In-Rags from her Throne in Fort Baldomera.

And during the Intercalation, one by one the Hours to the Madrugad's right fell before and were devoured by Mother White, until that inimical Hour reached the walls of the Madrugad's fortress: and the sanctuary of her precious charge. So the Madrugad passed into Mithra, and called before her the greatest of all of the Stalking Kings, the King-of-Kings of the outer darkness, and offered him a doorway to a Throne of his own, if he promised to hunt and kill Mother White.

The King-of-Kings agreed, and came through the wall of the world. He crossed the vault of the heavens, beheld the Glory, and did not die. He bound himself to the 14th Throne, and together with the Madderblade he slew Mother White. His special charge, ever since, has been to keep her dead.

As an Hour, we call him the Black Captain. But on the rare, dread occasions when he directly addresses some pathetic, petrified and awestruck human, he sometimes calls himself Mithras. In the same way that you, projected into some universe of completely alien matter, might refer to yourself as corporeal, if some entity there asked you what you were. He is the glittering darkness. He is the void at the bottom of everything, and the inverse of everywhere. He is what lies on the other side of the closed door.

Mithraism, in the world of Heretic, was a Black Captain cult. And Mithras is still one of the Black Captain's sobriquets.

#heretic #the bladed vow #the minute to midnight #the hour of satisfaction #the corrival of the Madderblade and the warden of the Stone Oaks #Hour of oaths hour of vengeance hour of the hunt #he who arrested the stars in their paths and bedeviled the Stranger with his cunning #master of all darkness - titan of titans #the Black Captain #dice matters

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tillinghastcorporatemedia · 8 months

Text

Xendelne is smarter than Artemis thinks sometimes

The sound of heels comes clacking down the hallway. “Artemis, what the Hell” Artemis sighs. “Vanessa, I told you I wasn't available for a shoot that day. I have travel scheduled.” Artemis turns back around and begins applying her makeup. “Look, we are out 2 models that day and Katerina is already scheduled.” Vanessa sighs quite loudly. “Look Vanessa, I've had this on the calendar for months why is this an issue now?” Artemis stops applying foundation to give Vanessa a hard stare. Vanessa, frustrated and unable to find any rebuttal walks away in a huff. “Great the model contract board is gonna hear all about this.” Artemis thinks before beginning the process of applying the rest of her face. Afterwards, Artemis leaves the building and hangs a right towards the es-station. While not normally a route that is taken after work, a hard day of being a model begs Artemis to have a few rounds of manna ferment. “I should call Paris and see if she wants to come out too.” No answer on her comms but there's always a chance she could be out with Peter again. “She'll pick up later” The sound of the doors opening to the cab of the es-tram coupled with the cool air of the night lulls Artemis into a calmer state. While the bar is not far away, the normally speedy es-tram is moving at a much more luxurious speed tonight, interspersing light in between the window frames. Pulling up to the station, Vanessa hurriedly gets out of the tram and back into the lights of the city as it shines and glimmers around this time of night.

Upon entering the bar, Artemis sees Xendelne lurking near the corner where the smoking section meets the emergency entrance. Xendelne waves Artemis over, who comes shuffling over once she has retrieved her drink. “Aw, you didn't buy me one too?” Xendelne pulls a sad face before giggling a bit.

“Xenny, I can smell the damn Os-fa spirits on your breath, you're don't need more at the moment.” Artemis says, sliding into the booth to the other side. Lighting up a hash-stick and taking a long pull before following it with a large gulp, Artemis exclaims loudly “Vanessa is such a big asshole, I don't understand why her and Katerina are such good friends. She's absolutely dreadful to be around at work, I cant imagine being around her all the time.”

“Normally it's one of two things Artemis, unrequited love or overbearing responsibility to a childhood bond.” Xendelne smirks. Artemis sighs again. “Xenny I swear that is the almost same exact reasoning you used two weeks ago. It just sounds like you're hedging your bets.”

“This is why we're friends Artemis, half the time I think you just want me for a sounding board.”

“No we're friends because you actually can shit talk without judgment.” Artemis eyes Xendelne as if she's trying not to say something else that might be upsetting out of care, to which Xendelne doesn't catch, instead rolling up a hand-rolled hash-stick that he slides an unknown substance into, lighting it up quickly and then looking at Artemis.

“Did you hear Letitia got fired again?”

“Again? that poor thing. Just can't catch a break. Seems like its happening more now than when it started.”

“Yeah, apparently someone on the writers team recognized her and printed the story with some identifying information. Kinda fucked up when you think about it. Like, someone who not only not from this planet but one outside Or'otl space. Just shows up and holds a store up, that's never happened here. Honestly, I think the housing board should give her and Cerys an upgraded domicile.”

“Xenny, what do you mean? They don't do upgraded domiciles.”

“So? Literally one of the only people on the planet who has passed all of the defense classes multiple times and still continues to do so was in the building. Literally it could not have been a better situation, sadly to say.” After that string of a sentence, Artemis takes another swig.

“Well what are we supposed to do. They literally made the papers recall every mention of Letitia and she still can't find a contract that wont take her as a liability.” Xendelne thinks, almost hard enough that Artemis can feel the gears turning. “What if she comes and works with you?” Artemis opens her mouth instantly to insult both Xendelne's intelligence and family tree when the reality of what was just said set in. “Honestly I think that's one of the smartest things you've said to me so far.” makes it to Xendelne's ear before Artemis is already out of the booth and heading to close her tab, rushing out the door to Xendelne's surprise.

“Artemis why are you calling me this late?”

“Cerys, is Letitia home?”

“She's been home for the last 3 nillet cycles, why are you asking and why does it sound like you're out of breath?”

“I'm running up your stairs right now that's why i'm breathing heavily, i've been drinking and i'm in heels.”

Cerys buries her head in her hands. “I'll wake Letitia.” She grumbles

“You want me to what?!” Letitia manages to curse out, still rubbing her eyes. “I want you to come model with me and I may already have a job lined up for you. Nothing big just some easy stuff. You'll have someone there with you but Vanessa needs someone to cover for her and we can hire anyone without a fuss.”

Still groggy but starting to understand more as to what is going on, Letitia asks “What kind of modeling is it? I'm not sure if I'm even model material.”

“Oh our makeup artists are wonderful and I wouldn't be asking you if I didn't think you would be fine. Worst thing this company would have you model is maybe swimwear, and that's not in season.”

“That seems kinda intense though, especially for someone who hasn't done this before.”

“Letitia, you would be saving both of our asses here, it would take the heat off of me.”

“Can I at least think about it?”

“Yeah I can at least let you think about it. That's fair.” Artemis sighs, knowing if this doesn't work she might be toast for a second. “Why don't I walk you home while Letitia sleeps on it? Does that sound okay Artemis?”

“Yeah but you gotta help me down the stairs.”

“Okay let's get you home”

#tillinghastcorporatemedia #science fiction #scifi #scifiart #sci fi music #aliendancemusic #music #romance #writers #romulan

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anotherhumaninthisworld · 2 years

Text

The suicide of Pétion and Buzot (graphic)

Source: La liberté ou la mort: mourir en député 1792-1795 by Michel Biard (2015) chapter 1.

For Buzot and Pétion, whose bodies are found in the countryside after their suicide, tracking down accessories/accomplices can be difficult, given the very condition of the corpses which offers witnesses a real plunge into horror. [1] Indeed, on 7 Messidor Year II (June 25, 1794), a quarter of an hour before midnight, the justice of the peace of the district of Castillon, "[...] warned by public outcry that two corpses had been discovered in a patch of wheat [...],” went to the scene, taking with him the description of the proscribed representatives which had been given to him by commissioners appointed by Julien, himself sent from the Committee of Public Safety. He notes first of all, without further details, the night not helping with the recognition of the bodies, "[...] that the two corpses have been devoured by the dogs, the top of the body being very infected by it [...]". He also discovered various personal effects and weapons on the spot, including seven pistols and two swords, which he had deposited at the common house of Saint-Magne, then he left the bodies under guard and went back to bed. Does sleep remain accessible to him after such a vision? His night is in any case short, since the next day, at six o'clock in the morning, he goes to the scene a second time and finds there the commissioners sent by Julien. This time in the light of day, he undertakes to describe the two bodies with precision. For the first, he notes: "[...] we found a corpse lying on its back, with a very black face and the teeth on the right side of the lower and upper jaw broken [...] said corpse is being gnawed by worms in the neck and has gut coming out of its lower abdomen and is revolting and unapproachable". Then the justice of the peace observes: “For the second corpse [...] the face, the whole upper body is being devoured, only the bones, hair and greyish hairbreadth remaining there [...].” Under this second body, he discovers yet another pistol, probably the one used for the suicide. Unlike the first corpse, where the black face and the shattered jaw easily attest that the man shot himself in the mouth, the second is reduced to such a state that only the presence of the pistol indicates the suicide. The dreadful report continues as follows: “Having wanted to have the said corpses undressed to be represented to those who gave them asylum, the rotten limbs followed the fabric; the citizen Boulanger Lanauze, health officer, domiciled in Castillon, required to go to the scene, considered that it was not possible without danger for those who would be employed to proceed; consequently, in the opinion of the commissioners, we left the corpses under the supervision of the municipal officers of Saint-Magne for their burial, taking the necessary precautions to avoid unhealthy air. According to the information given to us by the said commissioners and the verification made by them [...] it is indubitable that these two corpses are those of Buzot and Pétion, ex-deputies outlawed as traitors to the fatherland [2]. This same 8 Messidor (June 26), the two bodies did not even obtain a burial in consecrated ground, due to their appalling state: “[...] the two corpses could not without danger be transported to the cemetery of this commune, according to the report of citizen Lanauze, health officer; we had two six foot deep pits made, in one of which Buzot's body was laid; and in the other that of Pétion, which we then had covered with earth [...].”

[1] Recognition report of the bodies of Buzot and Pétion (Châteaudun library, collection of manuscripts, cart. 6/7/17). The date of 30 Prairial Year II (June 18, 1794), proposed by historiography for this double suicide, is incorrect. Similarly, Pierre Bertin-Roulleau claimed that the arrest of Barbaroux and therefore the escape of his two companions dated from that same day, because all three left their hiding place after seeing Guadet and Salle arrested pass in front of them (La Fin des Girondins. Histoire des derniers Girondins, après leur proscription, dans la Gironde. Septembre 1793-juin 1794, Bordeaux, Féret, 1911, p. 163-164). Barbaroux was actually arrested on 6 Messidor and guillotined the next day (June 24), while Buzot and Pétion managed to flee. The two fugitives committed suicide at the end of the afternoon or during the night of the 6th to the 7th. Doctors Gérard Lahon, expert at the Court of Appeal of Rouen, and Jean-Georges Anagnostides, expert approved by the Court of cassation, consulted on this document, affirm that the death can date back to 6 Messidor around six o'clock in the evening, which leaves thirty-six hours between death and the examination carried out on the 8th at six o'clock in the morning (cf. following note for their medico-legal report).

[2] Ibid. Gérard Lahon and Jean-Georges Anagnostides underline that "the putrefaction of a body, which in general begins to be clinically visible twelve hours after death, is all the more rapid as the surrounding atmosphere is hot, even stormy, and the corpse is abandoned on the ground, in the open air, in a context of bleeding wounds". Abandoned in the sun in a field, it fatally very quickly attracts predatory animals, attracted by the smell, which feed first on the areas where the blood stagnates, which explains the state of the upper body. In addition, the corpse "attracts flies which land and lay eggs in the vicinity of it, or even in it, where the blood has flowed, which gives birth to larvae (or worms)". Finally, "the putrefaction of a corpse, especially if it remains exposed in a hot atmosphere, can very well be accompanied, from thirty-six hours after death and a fortiori beyond, by the following physical phenomena: phlyctenular desquamation (bullous appearance of the skin) explaining an epidermis that sticks to clothing; a production of endogenous gas generating a secondary intra-abdominal hyper-pressure, leading to the appearance outside the belly of an intestinal loop exiting through a cutaneous orifice” (orifice which may have been created by a stab, but here more likely by an animal).

#good luck trying to sleep tonight #pétion #jerome pétion #buzot #frev #french revolution

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umbralsound-xiv · 1 year

Photo

I will admit i was not, perhaps, thinking quite so straight in the wake of the explosion that had taken my apartment!

The first place i went was the company house. Mist would surely help me with my current living situation, but not finding her home, and this would be far too much to tell her in a letter - Not that i had anything to hand to write with, considering the damage.

...I thought then, perhaps Khatun Tsaivarod was home... It had been so long since i had seen her...!

...I should have, probably changed my clothes first.

Daidukul Kha knocks several times, an almost frantic rapping that was sure to garner the attention of any who lingered within. No voice calls out, strangely enough. He just waits. Outside. In awkward silence.

Tsaivarod Dazkar looks up from the simmering pan in front of her, sure she had heard something over the noise of the oil. She called out in a low, sing-song alto. "Door is open, darling, if you try the handle." Not knowing who it was, she nonetheless had the confidence in both herself and her housemate that nobody stupid enough to wish them ill within their own domicile would knock.

Daidukul Kha slowly, almost hesitantly pushes the door open. Daidukul is, decidedly, not dressed in anything even close to resembling his best. Ash clings to his hair, and even parts of his clothes are scorched and burned in places. A bright smile is given, which tugs anxiously at the edges. "Tsaivarod Khatun! It is a pleasure to see you on these shores, once again!" He beams, explaining nothing. "Apologies that it has been so long; but time does not halt the ceaseless march of anyone, least of all people as busy and occupied as we. How are you?"

Tsaivarod Dazkar beams broadly as she opens her mouth to respond, though her expression changed as she turned, something much sterner. Sharp, almost dangerous as a twinkle lit in her eye, giving just a hint of softness to her otherwise now-dour gaze. "A pleasure indeed, dear." She brandished the mixing spoon. "...more so, should you show any signs of having followed my most -specific- instructions to care well for yourself in my absence, hm?"

Daidukul Kha stares. The look and the spoon are enough to silence him, only the corner of his mouth twitching. Was that fear, he felt? The selfsame fear many men on the Steppe had felt in many tales he had heard, surely. "----I am fine! Physically. Mentally too! My things are... Ah... A little worse for wear. But i have no need of an infirmary or anything of the sort! Please, do not worry for me, Khatun!"

...I’ve never felt such fear from a kitchen utensil. Surely she wouldn’t mean to do anything, but she was most undoubtedly a little cross.

I have been taking care of myself! Of course i have!

...It isn’t like i had intended to blow up my apartment.

Tsaivarod Dazkar: "Fine?" She sets the spoon back in the pot and takes it off the heat, using her brief turn away from him to hide her mirthful smirk berfore she walked, nay, stalked over to where he was. "Then I suppose you would have me believe -this-..." she wraps one arm delicately about his waist to keep him close as a finger raised, swiping a stripe through the soot on his cheek, holding the finger towards him as if offering that he taste it. "...was but frosting, of some sort?" She managed, just, to hold her laughter just below the surface at his brief stumblings over words in her presence, enjoying this part of the game too much to give up her act just quite yet.

Daidukul Kha remains completely still as her finger drew down his cheek, brows knitted as the ashy colour was presented to him via fingertip. "It would make for a dreadful frosting for any cake. No, i... Ah..." He grimaces, remaining otherwise stark still. "...I... May have... Blown up my apartment...?"

Tsaivarod Dazkar furrowed her brow, taking a moment to size up the color of her fingertip. "Hm. Are you quite sure it would be so dreadful? I don't suppose you've..." She leaned in, feinting towards her fingertip before swiftly and smoothly pivoting, gently brushing her lips and just the barest hint of her tongue across his cheek. "...tasted it?" Her laughter finally got the better of her, bubbling up with a smile. "Well I am glad at the very least that all of your limbs arrived at the same time after such an event. But still dearie, you've a most strange concept about what need not be worried about."

Daidukul Kha: "Quite certain! I despair for my notes and my---!" He takes a sharp breath in and even goes as far as flinching to close his eyes as she neared, only opening one eye...And then the other as she moved back, exhaling quietly. "Tsaivarod Khatun, i mean no disrespect, but i do hunt Voidsent for a living! --- Well, part of a living. Mostly a hobby. But this is not the first time i have been close to being incinerated, and like as not, it will not be the last! My apartment, however, is beyond repair, and now i find myself without a ready place to live. Granted, it happened only a bell or so ago! I had visited the company house afore here, being in the same ward, with a hope to stay in the guest room, however Mist was not present for me to speak with... So i opted to visit here, knowing it had been much too long since i had spoken with you, if by chance you were home!"

Daidukul Kha: "...Though now thinking on it, i should have liked to dress a little better before visiting."

Tsaivarod Dazkar "I do recall your profession, yes, and shall we also both recall that you have said not to worry about certain events pertaining to it as well, regardless of the worry they have rightfully earned?" She gave him a wry smile, shaking her head. "With your luck darling, it's a wonder you remain any dressed at all after leveling an apartment." She sighed, stepping back to her stir fry, and moving another pot off the heat. "But goodness, boy, your whole apartment? What ever am I to do with you?” Laughter again twinkled amidst and followed her words as she got down a second bowl.

Daidukul Kha: "Well, perhaps do not worry so much. You have much more to occupy yourself with, and i am perfectly capable of taking care of myself!" He chirped, brushing his hair from his face; a plume of ash filtering through the dying light of the room. "..." A pause, as he watches, and pulls his gaze back. "---Well, the walls are in tact. And i saved my books and my clothes, but they are all clung with ash and soot. I am sure Mist will not mind me resting my head at the company for a few suns whilst i get back onto my feet..." He walks a little closer, gaze now tracing towards the pot. "...I had not mean to interrupt dinner, however."

It did, however, smell wonderful. I have, for the most part, gotten my urge to consume all manner of food somewhat under control, so long as i have a ready supply of ethers.

Tsaivarod Dazkar chuckled softly as she served, shaking her head once more. "If you think that I lose sleep fretting over your welfare dearie then it is you who worries too much. And as for whether you are capable of taking care of yourself there are certain... custom orifices I have witnessed you having installed that would, if they could, speak to differ." She handed him a bowl and gently hooked a finger in the nearest hem, tugging enough to pressure the garment, but letting him follow only should he wish. "And things wash, all the same. And company certainly need not be an interruption, particularly when it be as easy on the eyes as yourself." Her gaze drifted down and up the mess that was his state of dress. "...notwithstanding, of course."

Daidukul Kha takes the bowl without hesitation, gazing over his shoulder as she passed, and idly walking after her with little encouragement. "...I don't like those words in that order..." He quietly remarks, looking to the meal and changing the subject. "What did you cook? It smells delicious!"

Tsaivarod Dazkar shrugged. "Whatever was this side of stale upon my return, simmered in a milk sauce. Plenty of protein in the vegetable selection, so no meat this time." She led him towards the fireplace, to her preferred corner of the couch. "And there's little need to hear such words in that order, should you stop performing them. Sit."

Daidukul Kha: "I've eaten a good many things from a good many places. If it tastes half as delightful as it smells, it will be a fine meal indeed. Not that i have ever doubted your cooking. Regardless, you have my gratitude for the meal, even on such... Extremely short notice." He moves to sit, tucked into the corner. "---Well, it's not like i get wounded on purpose. And i have not been for some considerable time, now. And even then, that was only due to... External issues."

Tsaivarod Dazkar: "I should hope your wounds are mostly due to external issues, darling, should you ever be stabbed from internally you may not be able to pass it off as nothing to worry about." She nestled into his side. "I think you're likely to have had all that's in here. Mostly bamboo shoots, ginger... some lime and various starches."

Daidukul Kha: "---From forces not wholly under my control, is what i meant!" He speaks between bites, clearly pleased with the flavour. He watches as she nestles with a faint smile, but does not near her nor pull away. "I should cook for you in return, sometime. Though i will admit i am a little out of practise... Busy though i am, i find little time for cookery, especially when there are so many things to be had in so many corners of the realm made by people who can cook it far better than i, with far greater authenticity."

Tsaivarod Dazkar draped herself along Daidukul's side as she settled in to eat. "You should." It may have come off seeming like a directive, but there was something soft and encouraging under her tone. She took a few bites and watched the fire for a moment. "The greatest worry I have about you, dear, is hardly about your health. But perhaps... how single minded you can pursue things, hm? To the exclusion of other, equally enriching activities."

Daidukul Kha: "I persue the things i enjoy. Languages, surely enough... And Voidsent, of course. But there is a whole array that accompanies it. With languages and tutoring there is travel. Travel is culture, people, history, stories. I get to learn about those who i teach, and much more besides. Voidsent hunting is full of history, full of barely tapped subjects so deeply unknown. But even then... I do have other interests, yes? Unless, of course, you had suggestions!" He takes a few more bites of his meal.

Tsaivarod Dazkar finished another bite and rubbed her horn on his shirt. "Well, were I one prone to be filled with selfish mischief I would say this, right here. But as we both know I am not." She smiled up at him. "Perhaps cooking and medical care of oneself might make it onto that list, hm?"

Daidukul Kha slowly turns his gaze back towards her at the sensation of her horn. He flusters only an ilm, sinking into his shoulders as he gives no verbal response to her former words, only returning the smile faintly and responding to the latter. "Cookery for certain, should i have the occasion or time to cook. Medical care... I can. But it is... Difficult to heal myself, and exhausting to heal others. But should the necessity arise, i most certainly can."

Tsaivarod Dazkar set aside her bowl nearby, nodding as he spoke. "Medicine need not be magic. Even if it is simply... preparing further. Or having wound treatment prepared ahead of time, hm? Much easier to prepare the materials you would need before you might, say... be stabbed. Or incinerate a room."

Daidukul Kha: "...When i get around to furnishing my new apartment, i will surely set aside some space for medical supplies..." He trails, opting to give a small nod of agreement. "...And shelves. And a bigger wardrobe? And... I do not know, but i will think of a good many other things..."

Daidukul Kha: "...I do not find decorating easy. It is... not like clothes."

For all my travels, fashion has stayed with me somewhat, and the decor of any room i have resided in has fled. I find it difficult to keep to a consistant style of anything, and so often have i need for shelves or other various things that it often ends as a clutter of shelves with everyting to hand, and nothing organised.

Tsaivarod Dazkar rolled her eyes with a playful laugh, reaching up to trace her fingertips along his collarbone. "Oh please, Daidukul, if you thought that you could mention to me that you had burnt all your possessions and then not have to suffer my assistance in properly decorating, then perhaps I have been home for longer than I originally thought. How many cycles has it been now, hm? Four? Five?"

Daidukul Kha: "I have not incinerated -all- of them, just... Lots." A small smile, equally as bashful. His eyes briefly dart to her fingertips, and back; his food had vanished sometime in the midst of their conversation, as he collects their bowls and sets them aside. "...Your assistance is hardly -suffered-, Khatun. It is welcomed." He smiles, not quite knowing exactly what he might be letting himself in for. "...A little more than three, and a few moons more since i arrived in Eorzea. I made your acquaintance sometime within the first cycle. In the spring, i think."

Tsaivarod Dazkar: "Hm..." She smiled, closing her eyes slowly. "Do you remember it so well, dear? I don't suppose you remember where it was, or what was done or said?" She smirked a little bit, an eye creeping open to watch his face.

Daidukul Kha: "...I do! I was taking a moment to relax in Camp Bronze Lake. You seemed to be enjoying the springs, and i was reading... Something." He glances back, catching her expression in puzzlement. "...I don't remember what i was reading."

Tsaivarod Dazkar: "Oh?" A brow raised, her tone amused. "It is not terribly like you to be unable to recall a detail such as that." Her fingers played a merry path along the front of his chest, dragging here, walking there. "Perhaps the material was simply... not up to par with your usual fare?"

Daidukul Kha: "...I met you. People are far more interesting than papers, and you are... More interesting than most. I mean this with all kindness, of course." His eyes move to her hand again, watching with confusion, not that he inquired further on what she was doing, nor why.

Tsaivarod Dazkar ceased the wandering of her fingers at the same moment that her eyes locked to his. "Hmm... I suppose so. You may consider your flattery to not have been idle in this case." She winked. "...and to think since then I've not recieved another back rub quite like the one you gave then. I don't think such timid digits have ever been so effectively applied."

Daidukul Kha: "---Timid? I---" He pulls his lips to a line, and glances away, hiding his face by gazing to the fire. "...You need only ask, Khatun, if this is what you wish. I would have thought you had no end of offers for such things, rather than asking me."

Daidukul Kha: "Not... That i mind."

I mind not for such things. Comforts to be found in the company of another... To an extent.

I have limits, which are far shorter and narrower than most who do not know me may expect.

...And even for those who do know me.

Tsaivarod Dazkar giggles, her tail flicking back and forth. "I imply no fault at all dear, none at all." Her laughter petered into a wistful sigh as she reminisced. "You know, Daidukul, none other alive has so quickly been presented the opportunity to gaze upon such a perfect pair of breasts as mine... and then chosen to try his hardest not to." The laughter bubbled back into her speech again as she continued. "...why, I remember in the moment almost being offended before I saw the heat in your cheeks."

Daidukul Kha: "I... Did not wish to be so... Invasive. I am not distressed by nudity, Tsaivarod." It was rare he used her name without epithet, and the notion of doing so brings him some hesitation as he catches his words. "...But it often has intent behind it...." Rarer still do his words trace into silence, half turning his head to look back at her, but still looking to the flames before him as he swallowed the crawling lump that lingered in the back of his throat.

Daidukul Kha: "Not... Not that yours did. It might have. I... I don't know. It---"

Daidukul Kha simply gives a long, uneasy sigh that simmers quietly in the air with the uncertainty it held.

Tsaivarod Dazkar raised a finger gently to his lips to press against them, forestalling further comment, and her voice softened. "Daidukul darling, should you not have the words there is no need to try so hard to find any, I do not mind for silence." She turned, rubbing her horn once more against him. "And to tell the truth, dearie, back then when we first met, I did carry such intent, or at least seek to show that I offered such." A genuine, soft smile graced her features. "...but I do think that, had you reciprocated, perhaps we would not have spoken again, let alone become..." She trailed off. "It was just that about you, that you did not wish to desire in that moment, that kept you from being just another fun, singular night in my memory."

Daidukul Kha meets his gaze with her own as her fingertip settled on his lips, listening to her words as she spoke. Only after she is done speaking, and spending a long moment in such offered silence, does he give a response. "...I am only glad you did not take offense to it. Despite any reputation you might carry, it saddens me some, that it is not your kindness and understanding they speak of first." His brow, however, does not cease it's furrow. Slowly, he tilts his head in her direction; his horn softly connecting with her own. "...I had considered such things when i was younger if only to stop everyone talking... Even if i know it would have made me miseriable."

Daidukul Kha: "...But my sense of self and fear won out, and i didn't."

...It shamed me some. To think of myself like that. Had i just accepted and laid with another, then perhaps people would not be so inquisitive about seeking it with me.

But in the moment, i know i would have detested it. It would have given rise to other words, less kinder ones than curiosity.

...But now, the fear of even the idea of it is so great that it causes me to give distance when i would much rather not...

Daidukul Kha: "...Tsaivarod. No one else -knows-."

Tsaivarod Dazkar forestalled him again with a gentle finger and gentler still shushing. "Shhhhhh... not something that needs to be in the forefront of your mind right now. I meant not to dig deep for awkward or painful memories. And it is not something that anyone need be privy to, should it not be relevant between you or should you wish. You don't have to shout from the middle of the market your preferences. Nhaama knows there'd be quite a line forming both coming and going should I do something like that." She sighed, her eyes drifting a moment back to the fire. "...to touch briefly on a slightly more... immediate subject, I suppose with your apartment in such a state as it isn't currently, you've nowhere to bathe off all this soot?"

Daidukul Kha immediately keeps his quiet as her fingertip makes it's return to his lips. He makes no further remark on the subject, but the long, deep sigh exhaled from his nose could have been easily felt. Her question is what bids him speak again, pulling backwards to allow him to do so. "...Not anywhere so private. There are bathhouses in the company house, or failing that, a stream. But privacy is not assured... And that is something of a problem."

Tsaivarod Dazkar raises a brow. "...and is privacy from me a problem that worries you?"

Daidukul Kha: "...Not so much as anyone else. You... Understand my... Situation." As to which situation, exactly, he was referring to, he did not elaborate.

The situation not only regarding my... Preference to remain clothed for more physical reasons, but for the mark upon my back. It seethes some suns, and others it is so mild i can forget it, but...

...If people knew... I do not want to think what i might be subjected to.

Tsaivarod Dazkar: "Would you wish, then, to attend me to the bath?" She squeezed his hand gently. "And if you wish to be left alone, we may finish our washing seperately or together, as to your preference. But if you wish for... I do not know if it is comfort I give you, or a feeling of safety, but... if you wish for simple intimacy. Closeness. I am of course willing to wash you and to have you do the same for me. Not in the manner of any explicit pleasures, but simply for sharing the moment."

Daidukul Kha returns the squeeze of the hand; he doesn't seem as though he quite wants to let go, opening his mouth to speak though words did not follow. At least not... Immediately. "...I trust you." He confessed, quietly. "...I -enjoy- physical contact. I do. Embraces and other such affection are enjoyed... And i would likely seek them out more if i was not so frightened of... People with ulterior motives, no matter how kind they are regarding their offering." He gives another squeeze, a little more gentle, then. "...But you know already. You know what i do and do not wish for, and i do not believe for a moment you would betray that trust."

Tsaivarod Dazkar: "Then follow." She leaned up to kiss his chin, stretching as she prepared to rise from the couch. "Let's go get you cleaned up proper, and perhaps we might see about my massage, hm?"

Tsaivarod Dazkar winks at you.

Daidukul Kha: "...I will attempt not to be so... Timid." The word is spoken a little flatly, as though taken as an insult, expression flickering into a faint smile as she drew back and they both rose.

...She’s not going to betray me, and there is no need for hiding or otherwise pretending of any discomfort i might feel. We can simply be close, as confidants, as friends.

...To think i would find such comfort with her, with the fearsome reputation i know to be the truth.

Tsaivarod Dazkar sighed again, somewhere between performative exasparation and sympathy. "Now now, darling." She wrapped an arm about his shoulders and gave him just a moment of her weight shifting as warning before swinging her legs up to be carried like royalty. "I have been myself for long enough to know that I elicit fear. Timid was, and is, no fault of yours. Though I am happy to help guide your hands should you wish."

Daidukul Kha: "...Only where you know they will be comfortable. You elicit fear to those who either deserve it, or... Only know of you through reputation." He manages to catch her warning, and quickly hooks an arm to catch her comfortably. "...And... When the bath is done..." Daidukul trails, as though hesitating to ask. "...You... Would not mind if i stayed overnight?"

Tsaivarod Dazkar gasped in a show of mock offense. "You would presume to spurn the implicit company of a -Khatun-?" She laughed, a soft and bright chime. "Worry not. I rarely say no to a body sharing bed with me. And I had all but counted on it the moment you stepped foot inside."

Daidukul Kha: "...I would presume no such thing! I would, however, ask a dear friend who i trust for comfort." His smile finally widens to something warmer. "...Which is something i appreciate dearly. I am blessed to have you as a confidant, Tsaivarod."

Tsaivarod Dazkar nestled against his chest, nodding. "And I am glad to have you see me as nothing more, dear. Now then." She kicked her legs gently, tail swinging slowly. "Shall we to the bath while I am still awake, or are you going to hold me while your warmth coaxes me to nap and we bath when I awake?"

Daidukul Kha: "...Bathing first might be in better order, yes? All the better to sleep after a warm bath." He chuckled, wandering down the stairs. "...I shall try not to fall asleep in the bath itself. Though i do not doubt you would be able to carry me, i should at least like to remember the company."

#Muse: [Daidukul]#Chapter: [Mediation]#FFXIV #IC #Screenshot #Writing #Snippet

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alotsgonnachange · 2 years

Text

Bloom For You

Nadia X Oc (Isabella)

2,064 words

No warnings just fluff

Happy Nadia day 😈

Isabella was banned from the palace kitchen.

Well not really banned per se, but she’d gotten in enough arguments with the chefs about her presence that all of them now knew who she was and were no longer interested in letting her use their stuff. Which wasn’t a big deal, she would make do regardless and did not particularly care what they believed. From her perspective, the kitchen was a communal place and there was certainly more than enough space for her to do what she needed to do in there without being disruptive. But the head chef was NOT having it today. Before she could even walk through the doorway she was accosted by this individual, who crossed their arms and stared at her expectantly.

“Again?”

Isabella looked down at the bundle of ingredients in her arms, not at all looking covert. She smiled sheepishly.

“I brought my own stuff this time.”

“No.”

“I’ll stay out of the way! I’ll go in a little corner by myself you won’t even hear a peep out of me! Quiet as a mouse!”

“Isabella. No.”

“What, so you’re just going to turn me away?”

“Look, I’ve already let this slide too many times.” The cook sighed and pressed their thumb to their temple, eyes squeezed shut in annoyance. “But today of all days, absolutely not.”

“What could possibly-“

“It’s the countess’ birthday.”

Oh shit.

“Today?” Isabella practically felt the blood drain from her face at this information. How could no one have told her?

“Yes. So I suggest you and I return to our respective domiciles and uh. Get working.” They adjusted their hat and brushed past her to enter the kitchen before regarding her once more, with a slightly softer look. “Talk to Portia. Everything needs to go according to plan today.”

Isabella let out a groan that was less than subtle and cursed to herself in her native tongue as she walked away. “According to plan” was everyone’s least favorite utterance in the palace. High volume and high stress days like masquerades, celebrations, visiting dignitaries and holidays were often a nuisance to palace staff. But the countess’ birthday was a whole new beast to Isabella, since this would be the first time she experienced this.

When she arrived in the seamstress’ quarters, she was surprised to see Tilly and Portia chatting in there and they seemed to perk up when Isabella entered the room. Isabella eyed them warily and placed her unused ingredients down, nodding in a brief greeting. “Buongiorno.”

“Morning, ‘bella! We were just looking for you!” Portia chirped, already armed with a clipboard, likely making preparations. “The countess wants to see you.”

Isabella blanched once again. It was barely 9 in the morning and she did not look or feel prepared to meet the countess. Tilly blinked at her reaction.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, Tilly. I’m fine.”

“Your face just went bright red.”

“Thank you, Tilly. I’m fine.” Isabella punctuated the last word by shoving a rack of dresses out of the way. Portia cleared her throat.

“It’s likely she wishes to consult about what she’ll be wearing throughout the day. For the different festivities.”

“Festivities?”

“Yeah there’s uh…” Portia squinted at the clipboard. “Brunch dedication at 11… Then croquet at noon…Then her family is arriving from Prakra at 2 and there’s a small luncheon and social that will happen in the ballroom between then and dinner.. and then THE official birthday dinner of spiced swordfish.”

“Did the countess make this schedule?” Tilly asked, examining her nails. “That sounds dreadful.”

“She’s right.” Isabella replied from behind her desk, where she jotted down some notes and measurements. “That sounds like too much. Who says she can’t just relax.”

Portia made a face, something like a cringe. “I don’t think it’s fitting either, but she did sign off on it. I think it’s tradition in the castle leftover from Lucio or something. Maybe Valerius would know.”

That bastard. Isabella shook her head and grabbed her own notebook and started heading towards the doorway. “I’ll go talk to her. Thank you, Portia. Tilly.”

After the third knock on the door, Isabella was slightly concerned. Hadn’t she been awake to tell Portia to summon her? She was aware that she could just wait, but at this point she was antsy and impatient so she pressed gently on the gilded door, peeking her head in. “Countess? Are you here?”

“They don’t knock in Valletta, Miss Ciccino?” The velvety voice came from behind her golden divider and there Isabella spotted a flash of fuschia colored hair. She sighed in relief.

“My apologies, countess. I did knock though. Portia mentioned you wanted to see me?” Isabella stepped into the room fully, shutting the door behind her and immediately wringing her hands. Her breath left her body as the countess stepped out from behind the divider, revealing herself to only be covered by a gauzy purple robe that was extremely short. Isabella willed herself to point her eyes at the ground, trying not to react. It was too late though as Nadia let out her musical laughter.

“Calm yourself, Isabella. It’s just us here.”

“You’re hardly dressed, countess..I don’t wish to make you uncomfortable.”

“Of course I’m hardly dressed, is that not your job?”

“I’m here now.” Isabella gulped and looked at Nadia’s face, attempting to at least appear normal and sane. “What can I help you with?”

“Here,” Nadia’s hand came to Isabella’s shoulder, leading her to the edge of her bed and placing pressure, encouraging her to sit. Isabella sat, surprised at the contact. “You look frazzled.”

“I always look like this.”

“Don’t worry, it’s in a very cute way.” Nadia smiled and perched herself next to Isabella, bumping against her arm with a slight playfulness. “I don’t want to change outfits 10 times today.”

“I don’t want you to either. Why did they give you that atrocious schedule?”

Nadia sighed, flopping back on the bed so that her hair fanned out behind her like a halo. “I do not know. And my family is supposed to be coming. They gave them two hours past noon as an arrival time which means they’ll arrive at five.” Nadia’s eyes met Isabella’s. “I don’t understand the fanfare.”

“I mean.. It is your birthday.” Isabella offered.

“Yes but..” Nadia made a face with a slight sadness tinged in. “I don’t want to celebrate this day the way Lucio did. I wanted to sleep in and enjoy maybe one extravagant meal. Much of this feels unprompted.”

“Well if it makes you feel better, the kitchen seems to be preparing something extravagant?”

“They kicked you out again?”

“Si.”

“Ah, pity.” Nadia rolled onto her side so that she was propped up on one arm, facing Isabella. “I was hoping you would make me some of that olive oil cake like last time. With the lemon slices on top.”

“I wanted to!” Isabella cried, balling her fists. “I think the chef hates me!”

Nadia laughed again, this time barely catching her breath as she replied between gasps. “No…no… I think they’re just scared of you, dear.”

“Scared I'll do what? Make something delicious?”

“I think they don’t want to mess with a bold Venterrean woman on a mission.”

“I’m bold. Is that a compliment or an insult, countess?”

“I only ever give you compliments, my dear.” Nadia reached up with a manicured hand to tuck a piece of stray hair behind Isabella's ear. The motion made her want to burst into tears but she managed a pained smile. “And I thought I told you to just call me Nadia?”

“Yes, I know. I just..” use formality because I am terrified.

“Lay down with me.” Nadia patted the space behind Isabella, who blinked in response.

“Are you sure?”

Nadia responded with an eyeroll and unceremoniously grabbed the back of her collar and yanked her down onto the plush sheets. Isabella cackled.

“I can’t believe you just did that!”

“Well believe it.” Nadia laughed along with her and after the moment passed, the two sighed. Isabella finally turned from where her eyes were previously fixed on the ceiling and faced Nadia, who was even more beautiful up close. She desperately wished to tell her this, but her lips remained glued shut. Nadia smiled at her and she gulped. She said the only thing she could think to say in an intimate moment like this.

“I think you should tell everyone to fuck off today.”

Nadia snorted. “Even you?”

Isabella nodded. “Especially me. I’ve bothered the chefs enough. But I can provide you with whatever you need, clothing wise at least.”

Nadia seemed to ponder the suggestion for a moment before speaking up once more “I think you’re right at least partially. I probably shouldn’t tell them to ‘fuck off’ though.”

“That’s fine. I’ll do it for you.”

“My hero!” Nadia did a dramatic flourish with her arms in the air before curling her hands to her face and fluttering her eyelashes at Isabella who nearly choked at the motion.

“What was that?”

“Haven’t you ever seen a theatre production where the damsel does that when the hero saves her?”

“Maybe? But what the hell kind of theatre allows for such cheesy acting practices?”

“Certainly the ones Julian frequents.”

A knock on the door shakes both of them from their reverie and Isabella sighed and approached the door, meeting eyes with Nadia who waved them in. Thankfully it was just Portia who had a sly smile on her face when she noticed the moods of the two women.

“Isabella, countess, have you decided on outfits?”

“Actually-“ Isabella began to speak but Nadia interrupted her.

“Actually!” Nadia stood from where she laid on the bed and grabbed a second, thicker robe to cover herself as she approached Portia. “Portia, I have consulted with some very intelligent palace staff and I would like to change the schedule for today. Tonight’s dinner shall remain, but hold off on the rest of the festivities.” She turned to Isabella and winked. “Or, of you feel so inclined, you can tell them to ‘fuck off.’”

“Nadia!” Isabella covered her mouth with a hand, turning red once more.

Portia grinned and said nothing in response, scribbling something on her clipboard and looking between the two. “Sounds like a plan. Can I get you anything in the meantime? Or uh.. you two!” Portia winked at Isabella who groaned and covered her face with her hands.

“Yes. Get the Golden Goose if you could, please. And take the rest of the day off.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice! I’ll have a servant bring one by! Happy birthday, Nadia!” Portia was already heading towards the kitchen and out of earshot, and Nadia closed the door, seeming triumphant. She turned to Isabella with a mischievous smile.

“How was that?”

“Phenomenal.” Isabella clapped celebratorily as Nadia gave an equally goofy bow in response. Her laughter died as soon as Nadia approached her again, this time standing over her with mere inches between them. “Nadia?”

“Stay with me today.” Nadia reached a manicured hand up to tilt Isabella’s chin towards her a bit. Isabella tensed but stared back, unable to muster a single word and almost entirely focused on the shape of her lips. “Please?”

Isabella responded with a frantic nod which made Nadia laugh and pull away, patting the top of her head. “How are you still so nervous around me?”

“I-I’m trying not to be!” Isabella replied indignantly, turning away to glare at a random spot on the floor. “Of course I’ll react if someone so beautiful comes so close to my face!”

“I’m just teasing, dear.” Nadia responded with a soft smile, beckoning Isabella into her arms, to which she shyly allowed the taller woman to wrap her arms around her in a warm embrace that made her heart pound. After a few moments of silence, she exhaled when she felt Nadia kiss the top of her head ever so gently. As they stood still in the room, the sun began to beam through Nadia’s gilded windows. Isabella watched as the hydrangeas that bloomed by the windowsill grew and unfurled before her eyes, most likely reflecting her current emotional state.

Nadia spoke, her voice rumbling against where Isabella’s ear was pressed to her neck. “Your magic is beautiful.”

Isabella smiled a bit. “I can make them bloom for you whenever you like. Happy birthday, Nadia.”

#my text #Nadia satrinava #the arcana #isabella #tilly

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mask131 · 2 years

Text

In France, home-invasion is a plague protected by the law

You know what makes me sick? Squatting. Aka those people that sneak into houses and flats that are not theirs, and claim it as their own house.

Because in France, squatters and squatting is a true plague. It is a true plague because home-invaders are PROTECTED BY THE LAW! Yep, French law is just so sick.

Let me give you an example.

A grandmother lives alone in a little house somewhere in the suburbs. One day, she gets dementia and has to be hospitalized. Her daughter arrives. She takes her out of her house, because it is too dangerous for her to leave alone, and she takes her to the hospital, and then to a retirement house. Meanwhile the grandmother’s own little house stands empty. Well-closed, but empty. When the daughter discovers that to pay for the retirement home (and not to throw her mother into the public hell-holes where they beat up elder people) she needs more money than planned, she decides to sell her grandmother’s empty home. It is where she spent her childhood, but her mother’s health is more important.

But as she discovers, a family entered the house. They broke into the house one night, changed the locks and are now living in the house. They are squatters. They claim the house is theirs, and that they will stay there, and not leave.

You say: but the house does not belong to them! The daughter can still call the police for them to get out, no? Well... No. Because the law protect these kind of home-invaders. You see, there is a loophole in the French law. People can’t be dislodged of their domicile. But “domicile” has a very vague meaning in the French law - it is just your main dwelling. If you can prove that you live somewhere all the time, then it becomes your “domicile”. You don’t even have to own the place.

And that’s how all the squatters and home-invaders work. They enter a place they never bought or that does no belong to them. They sign up contracts to install something : it can be a contract with a new electric company ; it can be a contract to install Internet or a new phone line ; any kind of contract works. Companies never check if people own the place they claim to be their domicile. So the companies do their work there, leave their contracts, and these contracts are enough. They are proofs that this place is your domicile. Home-invaders just present them to the law and say “This is proof that it is my domicile. We might not own the place, but we still live there, we claimed it as our domicile, and so you can’t get us away”. And thus the daughter can’t sell or even enter her mother’s house, and has to enter a long legal battle to get back the ownership of the place. A very costy battle, as it will need the hiring of several law experts.

Because here you see, the home-invaders have all on their side. They claim the house was “abandoned” - and this already puts the law in their favor because invading an abandoned place is less punishable than an “occupied” place, and if the home is empty long enough, it can be claimed “abandoned” by unscrupulous people. Proving it is not means spending money to prove it in front of the law. As the home-invaders did not rent the place, there is no “renter-owner” relationship between the two, and the daughter can’t even have them expelled through her quality of owner. And the home-invaders are a family! EVEN BETTER! Because when squatting is proven, people can be expelled quite fast... if there is just one person. Multiple persons, it takes longer. And if there are children? Even longer - especially if they are minors. That’s why nowadays most squatting cases are about families invading so-called “abandoned” buildings. Or even whole groups! We are talking groups of twenty to forty people! Of course the living conditions tend to be dreadful, with filth, overcrowding and more... But the home-invaders don’t care, because they know they’ll be expelled one of these days, plus they are not the owners of the place so not responsible. They can literally do everything they want until they are kicked out - leaving behind them a huge mess that will require extensive cleaning (or even extensive work if they destroy parts of the home - it happens, they can leave stealing things such as sinks or ovens). If the home-invasion happens around the “dark season” it is even worse, because due to a law originally made to protect the poor, it becomes terribly hard if not impossible to expel people during winter. Any kind of people, including home invaders, you can only expel them in the “bright season”.

At least, if the daughter can prove that there was a breaking-and-entering to take possession of the house (windows broken, doors broken), it will allow proving the home-invasion much faster, and once the state of squatting is recognized by the law, the procedures to expel them can start. But long and costly procedures, that can take up to several years. Some cases are not as lucky. Lots of squatters find ways to take possession of the domicile without breaking and entering. Like stealing the key, or obtaining it from someone else. If let’s say you leave a copy of your key to a trusted neighbor or friend, to keep the house while your are gone on holidays or on a business trip, and they steal this copy of the key and enter the house... well you’re screwed and you’ll need a lot of wits and strength to obtain back your belonging. Especially since, as it is their “domicile” and they constantly stay in there to make sure no one can expel them when they’re not here, they can install all sorts of things to keep the rightful owners out - all sorts of security systems designed to prevent the one who actually owns the house to even step a foot near it.

Of course, in front of such situations, the rightful owners can try to take the matters in their own hands. Because you see, to target empty houses, home-invaders search for vulnerable people. They search for recently built houses that haven’t yet been occupied by the family that bought it ; they search for elderly people who have to leave for a long time due to going to the hospital or something similar ; they search for families going on holidays, or houses that were just inherited after someone passed away but the heir isn’t here yet. And they enter and they invade and they claim it as their own, and throwing them out needs a lot of time, money and effort. There’s several hundred cases of it across France - thanks to these law loopholes spreading so fast in today’s age. Some home-invaders are homeless, jobless people or families. Others are criminals that live on stealing and invading. Some are foreigners not speaking a word of French and wants to have a free place to live in. Sometimes they are actually victims of the business, as they are sold or given the house not knowing they are becoming squatters. But these last cases are rare: usually home-invasions are malevolent and willingly done.

As I said: what happens if the rightful owners decides to take action by themselves? Since the police can’t do anything until a judgement allows the expulsion of the invaders, you have to wait for the law - but given the law is a very long process in France which demands you to spend a lot of time and money building evidences, files and finding the right persons to hire and go to, some people can’t stand waiting for what is sometimes years. What happens if you break into the house that is yours and expel by force the owners? What happens if you wait for the home-invaders to leave and quickly change the locks while they are gone? What happens then? THEN YOU’RE SCREWED! Because as I said, the “domicile-protecting” law. The home-invaders can call a lawyer and sue your ass off, for breaking and entering or expelling them of their “rightful domicile”, no matter if you own the place and they were occupying it “illegally”. They can sue you off, and YOU ACTUALLY RISK MORE THAN THE HOME-INVADERS! The home-invaders, at most, will get from the law a firm expulsion. But they won’t go to jail, they won’t lose everything, they won’t have to pay anything: clean up the invaded place, taking ownership of it, any kind of expenses to repair the damages of the home-invader? That’s on the owner who is getting back the home! (And this is why some petty home-invaders break down everything in the home once they learn they are going to leave). But if the owner takes personal actions against them... the law will punish them. At best, they’ll have to pay for the home invaders. At worst they can face prison.

This is a plague that everybody is denouncing in France for years now, as squatting is booming... but the law hasn’t changed - because the loopholes and the laws the home-invaders use were originally designed to protect the poor and the homeless and people will low-income, and renters at the end of bad landlords. As a result they are very difficult to unwrap... and the home-invaders, the squatters, fester like hideous human cockroaches. They take advantage of the elderly, of the sick, of grieving family memebers, of people who want to start a new life elsewhere, and then sneak in and spit their poison in their face and ruin what is for many a childhood home, a sweet house for their children to grow up, the results of their yearlong savings - but what is for them just a free place they can crash in and can go out of without any kind of consequence.

This makes me sick

#this post is a mess but i need to throw it out #france #french law #France is a fucked up mess #home invasion #squatters #squatting #loopholes #home invasion in general is one of my biggest fears #so this squatting phenomenon both terrifies and repulses me so much #ranting #big problems

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maeattemptsateverything · 1 month

Text

Arrest

Émile was running, leaving others teachers in awe and a mess of still ungraded essays in his wake. The headmistress would yell at him later but it didn't matter; he would never have left his job if whatever was happening wasn't important. He ran as fast as he could when he saw the troop’s movement.

The only thing in his mind was the Angel.

He still was too slow, when he saw that the heavy forces had already broken down his front door. The neighbors were already peeping through their windows; surely one of them called. His front yard was a mess, nobody minded to have kicked mud and pebbles into his living room.

The bathroom had the cabinets wide open, his medication on the floor while both the kitchen and his bedroom were being ransacked by armed soldiers. Émile was trying and failing to rescue his mother's delicate china and the clothes his sister chose for him.

The soldiers didn't seem to be getting anywhere near the bookshelf; a hidden entrance his father built long ago. A great relief but a useless one. His breathing was almost erratic and that was not helping his case.

"Could you be the owner of this house?" Asked a blond man standing in the middle of the living room, the Captain, with a smirk on his face but a bored look in his eyes.

“What is this? Are you a policeman?” Asked Émile, the same tone when some student causes mayhem on the back seats.

“I do the questions here, mister” The Captain keept a nonchalant attitude but was clearly tired, not wanting to spend more than necessary with yet another civilian.

“You need a permit to enter a person's house; otherwise it is a crime of trespass” the man let out a surprised chuckle, but quickly fell back to composure.

“Aren't you a funny one? But I suggest you mind your tone”

A small noise came from the basement; the boxes falling. His angel friend tends to knock off things with their antlers, especially if they can't calculate the space when they move. If someone checks the bookshelf…

"What do you want?" Émile feigned annoyance, shielding his rising anxiety with anger.

"Nothing much, just want to check around"

"Well you already did! And destroyed my stuff in the process. So. Get. Out!”

“Sorry mister, but I'm the authority here. Most neighbors had reported suspicious activities coming from your domicile” The living room started to fill with soldiers, at least twenty. Émile tried his best to hide his dread "So if you can be so kind to tell us if you are a thief or a drug manufacturer...”

“That’s bullshit you are talking about! I'm literally a middle school teacher, I couldn't be dangerous if I wanted to!”

“Do you also use that language in front of your students?” Laughed one of the soldiers, the rest followed like hyenas.

“I´m sorry, you seem like such a weak opponent that it's usually one of those two options.” he was not going to lose his temper to people that were a head taller than him.

Émile bit his lower lip, trying to not get paralyzed “You already checked and found nothing”

“Why does your bookshelf have hinges?” he froze in his place, watching how the soldiers inspected the hidden entrance.

And finally went down the basement.

“Wait! You can't go down there!” He tried to reason with the captain, grabbing his armor to slow down his pace.

Only for the captain to slam his head against the ceramic floor. Émile was so astounded by the sharp pain in his temple he almost didn't register the taste of his own blood in his mouth.

“‐nestly”

“W- at?” The captain's voice was deafening, but almost drowned by the high pitch whistle at the same time. He was breathless.

“Answer honestly now” the Captain looked bigger, even if he could only see him over his shoulder by the tail of his eye. The other thing he saw was his left elbow held over the captain's knee. One wrong move and it was going to be bent backwards.

“that may save you from future problems”

“"I ca- I can't” I can't breath

“You are talking, you are fine”

The whole weight of the captain was over him, feeling his own ribs threatening to break and puncture his lungs. He was not fine, he was feeling lightheaded and needed to run away. The noise coming from the basement was growing louder in his ears, screams; his eyes burned and itched, and could not make out the blurred figures that hurried back.

Émile's eyes were frozen on the single soldier that cried while climbing up the stairs. She was all confident when her troop invaded his home, not expecting to find a treath. But she collapsed right in front of him. Her helmet was torn to shreds, the sight of her milky white skull against the bloodied tissue of her eye. Multiple slashes and holes ran through her face; wounds that were fast, angry, desperate.

Scared.

“What. are. you. hiding?”

The commanding yet terrified tone of the Captain above him was a stark contrast.

The house was suddenly silent, the soldiers no longer approaching the basement. Instead they formed a defense around their captain, weapons pointed steadily and fully charged. Émile could only see its boots. Émile already knew what was coming when the creature emerged from the dark. The captain stood at the sight of the antlers and drew out a rifle, pointing at the open mouth.

These creatures are naturally meek, Émile knew this. So the sight was enough to make him crawl away to a corner and hide, instead he was frozen in place when faced with the Angel. Its pose was akin to a claim of surrender; hiding its wings making itself seem smaller, eyes wide open. It was scared, repent; He knew it was not going to attack again.

Maybe the only reason the soldiers were able to empty their cartridges.

An ear-shattering yell reverberated through the room. The Angel was taken down, crawling towards him with a body pierced entirely. It cried in pain still, sounding primal and anguished. Émile was always successful in calming it down, soft touches in its hair while humming calm reassurances.

Now Émile could only watch his friend suffer while himself was paralyzed; not even able to move his face.

“Don't let that thing move an inch! Cut the feathers, tie its hands, I don't care! Just wait for reinforcement and call the director! Don´t kill it yet!” the Captain was shouting, the only sound anchoring him to reality.

“And this one-” he was at the verge of panic; the Captain last order only tipped his balance.

“Throw this bastard in the truck”

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Can you hide a feral creature that is at war with humanity in your basement and expect no consequences?

#whump #whump writing #original character #original story #cw gore #cw restraint #cw police brutality #military #cw home invasion #cw arrest #cw abuse of power #angel whumpee #Arrest

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