#low resource medicine | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nimata-beroya · 1 year

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Note: Since my old masterlist is getting notes again (and I'm hosting @tbb-appreciation-week this year), I thought it's a good time to release a new version with a lot more resources. If any of you know another site or thing that it's missing from the list, let me know and I'll include it!! [Altho, I'm getting this close 🤏 to the hyperlinks limit on this thing 😆]

Note 2: To avoid tagging the 3 people from whom I got multiple resources repeatedly, I've placed 1-3 asterisks between square brackets after the links, depending on the OP. I give the respective credit to them in a legend at the end of the post.

PLACES / TIME

Interactive Galaxy Map by Henry Bernberg

Map of the Galaxy

List of planets and moons [Wikipedia /needs expanding]

Planet Name Generator 1 [SciFi Ideas]

Planetary System Generator [Donjon]

Tatooine Location References [*]

Various locations Cross-Sections (Jedi Temple, Palp's office, Tipoca City & more) [**]

Republic - Separatist - Hutt space during the Clone Wars

Hyperspace Travel Times (to calculate how much time would take to go from point A to point B within the GFFA)

Standard Calendar and Holidays [including month names!]

Galactic Standard Calendar [wookiepedia // including week day names]

Date converter according to SWTOR [Google sheet]

Dated Star Wars Chronological Order (Movies + live-action shows + animation)

TCW Chronological Timeline by @mauvrix

Estimated date for: shared by @spectres-fulcrum

Partisans' attack on Onderon

Siege of Lasan

CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT

General

Star Wars Name Generator 1 [Donjon]

Star Wars OC flow chart by @thefoodwiththedood

Star Wars Name Generator 2 [FantasyNames]

Star Wars Name Generator 3 [FantasyNames]

MetaHuman [Unreal Engine]

The character creator

Droid Name Generator

Star Wars Randomizer by @aureutr

Character Picrew [Twi-leks, Zabraks, Torgutas and Nautolans] @/megaramikaeli

Jedi

Taking a Closer Look at the Jedi Order in Star Wars Canon [Meta/Reference Guide] [**]

Jedi Order Structure Flowchart by @rileys-nest

Mandalorians

Mandalorian Armor design by MandoCreator

Keepers of the Way (Mandalorian Lore) [*]

Clones

Complete List Of Named Clone Troopers shared by @propheticfire (Organized by Unit)

Clone Creator [MandoCreator]

Clone Picrew

Star Wars Character Templates by SmacksArt [the ULTIMATE battery of template for any human/humanoid original character in any era. From troopers to droids, from Jedi to Sith, from KOTOR to the sequel Trilogy. 100% RECOMMENDED]

Basic Guide to Clone Trooper Armour by @odekiisu

GAR structure summary by @intermundia

The Clone Wars Republic Military Hierarchy Flowcharts [***]

Clone Trooper Lore [*] [Ranks, Culture, Training, Organization, etc.]

Clones and Kamino [*]

The Bad Batch Characters Concept Art shared by @shadowthestoryteller

MISCELLANEOUS

Star Wars Character Age Comparison Chart by @the-yearning-astronaut

Tusken Raiders lore by @snarwor

Materials (fabrics, leathers, silks, plastics, construction, metal composites, etc.)

Materials in Star Wars by marvel_dc_heart_throbs

Star Wars Fashion [*]

Leisure, Art, Musical Instruments, Ethnography [*]

Political and Criminal Organizations in the GFFA [**]

Financial reference about credits by @thecoffeelorian

List of TCW Opening Quotes

Transcripts of all the TCW episodes shared by @book-of-baba-fett

Star Wars Crawl Creator [not exactly writing-related, but just for fun]

HEALTH AND MEDICINE

Canon Medical Lore [*]

Real World reference for Field organizational structure for corpsman (medics) [*]

Kaliida Shoals Medical Center (Republic Haven-class medical station) shared by @clonewarsarchives

GAR Battalion Aid Station [*]

GAR Clone Medic Q/A [*]

More combat medicine, shipboard medicine, veteran issues, and military culture [*]

SHIPS AND VEHICLES

Ship Generator 3D

Ship Name Generator

All Terrain Tactical Enforcer (AT-TE) shared by @stairset

Republic Vessels Reference [*]

Low Altitude Assault Transport/Infantry (LAAT/i) [*]

List of GAR Flagships in the Clone Wars by @meandmyechoes

Layout of the Havoc Marauder

Dimensions of various ships from the Clone Wars [**]

FOOD AND DRINKS

Star Wars Menu Generator

In-Universe Alcoholic beverages

Canon Cocktails (recipes) [*]

Another In-Universe Drinks list shared by @systemic-dreams

Teas in Star Wars by marvel_dc_heart_throbs

Foodstuff [*]

Canon Star Wars Holiday Recipes [*]

Trask Chowder Recipe (from The Mandalorian) [*]

LANGUAGES; PHRASES AND SLANG; VOCABULARY

Languages of the Galaxy [*]

Script of different languages in the GFFA by @lucif-hare-blog

In-Universe phrases and slang [Google sheet]

List of phrases and slang [wookiepedia]

List of equivalents to real-world objects [wookiepidia]

Talk Like a Clone Trooper shared by @archeo-starwars

Aurebesh Translator [Aurebesh.org]

Learning Aurebesh Tools [Aurebesh.org] Reading - Writing.

Mando'a Database [Mando.org]

Mando'a Transcripticon [MandoCreator] (Create your own text in the Mando'a script.)

@project-shereshoy (Blog that collects and posts sources for Mando'a from all over the internet.)

Mando’a Categorized Spreadsheet

Learning Mando'a Tools [MandoCreator] Reading - Writing.

Setting Thesaurus Entry: Spaceport [Writers helping writers]

Fan-created Conlangs

@dai-bendu-conlang (Jedi Culture Explored) (This blog is the home of the Dai Bendu Conlang, invented by the Archive of Our Own Users aroacejoot, @ghostwriterofthemachine, and loosingletters for the Jedi Order in Star Wars.)

Lasana Lexicon by Anath_Tsurugi (fandom lexicon of the Lasat Language)

HELPFUL BLOGS & SITES

The amazing @fox-trot, who not only makes astonishing art and write an amazing fic, she also responds to medical questions and gives all kinds of references for writing medic characters. Check her #medicposting tag and you'll find tons of information. Also check #star wars reference and her art tag while you're at it.

@writebetterstarwars, which seems to be inactive, but there are a bunch of references there.

@howtofightwrite The place to find out how to write a good fight scene.

@scriptmedic no longer active, but it has a great deal of useful information.

@scripttorture for your whump needs. Major trigger warning for all its content.

@sw-anthrobiology A blog dedicated to collecting headcanons about the biology and cultures of Star Wars species.

@archeo-starwars In-universe sources on culture and history.

@clonewarsarchives Resources & Concept Art Blog for The Clone Wars animated series.

Wookiepedia If you don't find something in here, it's probably because it doesn't exist, neither as a canon nor legends reference.

Star Wars Databank: The official Star Wars website's reference guide. All canon.

WRITING IN GENERAL (For those who don't want to die like Stormtroopers)

SlickWrite: Completely free; online. Checks grammar, punctuation, flow, and writing style according to different settings (including fiction writing).

ProWritingAid: [RECOMMENDED] One of the most thorough online proofreader I've ever used. Although when using a free account gives extremely thorough feedback, with +20 different in-depth reports, for only the first 500 words. However, you can earn a premium account license (for a year or for life) if you get 10 or 20 new users signing up for free; (if you wouldn't mind doing so using the link above and help me earn mine, please). The settings allow you to check your writing according to your needs, from general to formal to creative. It has a bonus that you can check depending on the genre you're writing. For example, in creative, you can choose romance or sci-fiction (there are 14 sub-genre in total). And just like google docs, you can share a document, and people can view, comment or edit it too.

LanguageTool: [RECOMMENDED] Another excellent proofreader. It also has a word limit in free accounts, but if you use the add-on for Google Docs, it counts each page as a new document, so hitting the word limit is nearly impossible. It helps you to rewrite a sentence (3 a day), even if it doesn't raise any flags; it's very useful for when your sentence is grammatically correct, but it doesn't feel quite right.

Grammarly, Hemingway Editor: No so great, but they do the basic job.

Legend

[*] Shared by @fox-trot [**] Shared by @gffa [***] Shared by @cacodaemonia.

#star wars writing resources #star wars #the clone wars #the bad batch #the mandalorian #sw rebels #tcw #tbb #the book of boba fett #andor #obi wan kenobi series #tales of the jedi #ahsoka show #sw resistance #writing resources #long post

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mashupofmylife · 1 year

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what kind of life am I living where I end up calling a retired 2 star general for help with my war college homework?

#military medicine #war college #war college for docs #the standards for me on this assignment are very low #my first draft still read like a history paper and not an assessment of resources #need all the help i can get

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zwhoreo · 4 months

Note

Luffy accidentally eating/taking aphrodisiac and reader has to deal with the results.

HAPPY 2024!!! :D here’s my longest fic ever as a celebration

can’t come down - aphrodisiac luffy x f!reader

smut with some angst

summary: thinking it was regular chocolate, you accidentally give luffy several doses of a potent aphrodisiac. now he needs you to take care of him

contains: accidental intoxication, luffy in discomfort/distress, tears, some uncomfortable sex, overstimulation, luffy and zoro in a brief sexual situation

words: 4.8k

_______________________________

It’s all your fault. You’ve hurt him, the little angel. A pleasant but burning pain, he’s attached to you, drooling on your neck and he’s been going for hours and he’s rubbing inside you ceaselessly, you’re dripping with him. He’s whimpering, this sweet boy. His eyes are blown out and hazy and he won’t stop just gazing at you, open-mouthed whimpers while he rubs inside you so deep and rough that god, you can feel it blooming and aching in your stomach, squeezed as you breathe so with every breath he moans in frustration and desire. Luffy just wanted chocolate, it’s all your fault.

______________________________

This town is seedy and dark. You like it because you can’t find these sorts of shops in regular port towns, places selling hallucinogens and fake medicine and alcohol for 100 berries a bottle. The sex shops don’t even board up their windows, that’s why you and Nami thought why not, let’s explore.

It’s not a serious shopping trip, more of a chance to laugh, tease each other, indulge in curiosity. This store’s set into the ground, beneath a metal stairway, it’s starting to rain so you two run for cover in the most interesting place.

The sex shop, which is very dim, all lantern light, is filled with things neither of you had ever seen before or thought to consider. The salesman is pushy, coming from behind the counter to try to sell you things you certainly hadn’t come there for. You laugh and walk around and whisper to each other. And even though you’re in a loving relationship these aren’t things you’ve thought to consider. Luffy wouldn’t like any of this. You would never do something to hurt or confuse him, not when you’re both vulnerable like that. But these low prices intrigue Nami who tells you that hey, why not get some cute lingerie?

“They’ve got a whole wall of it!” She points to the colorful selection of lace and silk and you do admit, it’s beautiful. It’s not something Luffy would care about really but you’d feel pretty in it, maybe. They’ve even got these cute little translucent night dresses that look so comfortable.

So you approach the salesman with your arms full of lingerie and he looks eager to be selling to two beautiful women. He keeps talking about deals and discounts, and with a little wink he throws in a special offer, with those two night dresses you’re buying you get free aphrodisiacs. Chocolate aphrodisiacs in a little white box and he keeps telling you these things are powerful. It’s a special deal, just for you. And with laughter and encouragement from Nami you say why not. You take them, even though you don’t think you’ll ever use them.

___________________________

Weeks go by. That little box, it rests forgotten in some dresser drawer. You tend to forget things at sea.

And there’s this island, more of an ocean mountain really, with jagged cliffs for beaches but there’s a small jungle on top, there might be food or resources up there. So Sanji and Zoro are going to go, and Luffy absolutely insists on coming with them. He’s all excited about it, hyper, rolling on his feet because he’s been kept away too long on the ship and he wants to explore.

But he’s not feeling quite himself. You’ve been short on food and Luffy’s had it bad, never satisfied after meals for the last couple days. That’s why this ocean mountain is the center of your universe with only the promise of a grove of mango trees, a flock of quail. So he’s begging you, pawing at your knees as you sit in bed and begging to get something to eat before he goes exploring. You try to help, maybe there’s something in a drawer, you get to your knees and dig through your dresser while Luffy crouches behind you, leaning on your back, you feel his warmth through your shirt. He’s impatient so he bites the back of your neck, tender but sharp.

You find the little box. You have no memory, in that moment, of where you got it. There’s no label, and you later think to yourself why the hell was there no label? but of course it doesn’t cross your mind right here. It’s a little box of chocolates and before you even have a chance to remember, Luffy snatches them out of your hand and says thank you and kisses you quickly on the cheek, cupping your face, his lips wet from hunger. And he sprints away, leaving you blushing, sitting there on your floor with a little smile.

_________________________

He’s beginning to feel very warm but it’s just the sun, probably. He takes off his cardigan, carrying it on his arm. His skin glistens golden in the light, a perfectly burnt brown, but now he’s going red with flush creeping from his face to his shoulders. Luffy’s breathing is irregular now, shuddering. He looks around, the trees wavering just a bit in a cloudy haze through his eyes.

“Sanji?” And he reaches for Sanji’s hand because for some reason he craves contact right now. But Sanji pulls away, feeling the layer of sweat coating Luffy’s palm. “I feel weird.”

Sanji’s eyes wander him. He can sense there’s something not right in Luffy’s stare, something dulled and far away. Something’s wrong, what’s wrong?

“Luffy?” Sanji doesn’t know what to do in these kinds of situations. “You should go see Chopper,” he says finally with his hand on Luffy’s shoulder, gingerly.

“Don’t wanna go back yet.” Luffy’s complaining despite the discomfort. And when he sees that Sanji won’t tell him anything he wants to hear, he turns and disappears into the underbrush, maybe water will help, something cold.

So he comes to this little pond, crystal clear and dappled by sunlight, there’s frogs on the lilly pads. If he wades to his thighs he won’t pass out, probably. There isn’t much care for himself in this moment, just a need to get rid of this burning. So he strips off his jeans which helps, strangely. A breeze hits his now bare body. He feels raw in a way he never has before.

That’s a yearning need to touch himself, but no, Luffy doesn’t think about that. He’s hot so he needs to get in the water. He stumbles on the rocks because his vision isn’t quite right. He shouldn’t go to his waist but that’s where the burning is. Ankles then knees then thighs, ripples lap between his legs, he’s left panting and tingling, that water is hitting nerve endings and with every wave comes friction that makes his body twitch. He wants more.

His hand flies to his cock as if by impulse, all of a sudden. There’s no thoughts now, just need, his hand rubs himself messily even though Luffy has no control, no concept of what he’s doing or why.

God, please.

He bends over a little, head down. Beads of sweat from his brow speckling the water as his whole body shakes back and forth and his muscles spasm. Frustration fogs his mind, with every pump it only stretches his skin, not enough friction, his hand is clamped down so tight that it’s doing nothing for him. He feels like crying. He hates that he wants to go home.

But this isn’t home. And as Luffy moans unabashedly this sounds like cries from pain, which they are, a bit. So it’s Zoro who hears him and without a second thought he’s tearing through the underbrush, tripping over his own feet, led blindly by his worst sound in the world — Luffy crying.

He shouts his name and crashes through the trees, he’s in the clearing and looking around desperately but what he sees makes him yell again. There’s Luffy, the love of Zoro’s life, completely naked and wading in the water of that crystal clear pond and moving sporadically as he rubs his cock, so painfully rock hard, over and over in this animalistic desperation as he cries and whimpers. He doesn’t know where he is or who’s around him and he doesn’t see Zoro.

Until he’s shoved from the side, a powerful push that sends him tumbling into the water, cruel cold water that sucks him in and starts a familiar panic within his heart that makes him forget for a moment about that burning inside him.

“WHAT THE FUCK, LUFFY?!” Zoro pulls him by his hair, shaking him, throwing him on the rocks and looking at Luffy with these stricken eyes, unable to comprehend what he’s seeing. His composure in that moment is shattered, his fists are clenched.

They’ve seen each other naked so many times. They’ve bathed and held and carried each other with nothing between their skin, it’s just how it happens sometimes when you’re that close. But this intimacy, this state Luffy’s in, it’s like nothing Zoro was prepared to see or could even really imagine out of Luffy. Something is horribly wrong.

“Zoro…” and Luffy’s taken up in his arms because no disgust or awkwardness comes before helping a friend who’s hurting. “I feel… I dunno… what’s- …”

Luffy’s voice is so slurred, his body is tense and so solid but yet somehow he’s still melting. Zoro’s finding it hard to look at him, do anything other than just sit there and hold him, uncomfortable at how he can feel that heat from between Luffy’s legs radiating and blooming condensation on Zoro’s skin. He has absolutely no idea how to even begin to approach this situation. So he’s rough and sloppy as he dresses his friend, his cardigan’s on and his sandals are on and his hat has been slammed over his eyes. But Zoro, teeth gritted, has to shove Luffy’s cock in his jeans himself because this boy is useless like this. He’s silently vowing to never talk or think about this moment again, how sticky his hands now feel, how Luffy moans as he’s touched and leans into Zoro and how his cock twitches with an overpowering need to fuck anything that’s close.

Zoro won’t think about this again. He just picks Luffy up and carries him away without saying a word.

______________________________

You’re just looking out the window. Unmoving sun, unmoving sea. You want to eat or go somewhere and maybe you should’ve begged and made them take you on the island.

Is it the island, or do you just miss Luffy?

But it’s not long before your door is kicked open, you jump, eyes wide, whipping around to find Zoro cradling your boyfriend, who looks sick. Fear shoots through you and closes your throat especially when you see Zoro’s eyes, vacant and upset and he looks dissociated, blank.

“Oh god, Luffy.” You run to him and your hands go to his face and just stroke his cheeks, he’s sweaty and burning up like he’s caught in a deep fever. “What happened?” Your eyes are wild and scared as you turn to Zoro.

“I don’t know what you gave him. Just… deal with it.” Zoro dumps Luffy into your arms and you stumble as he curls up into you, drooling all over your neck. And Zoro gives his shoulder one last squeeze and turns away, closing the door behind him, running off down the hall, somewhere where he can’t hear that crying anymore.

And yes, Luffy’s crying. You set him down on your bed, rubbing the back of his head and holding his hand. “Hey, hey, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“Dunno what’s happening…” Luffy’s eyes are pleading and endlessly deep right now. His legs are kicking against the air and he keeps shifting around, he can’t sit still.

With his free hand he’s rubbing between his legs like he’s scratching an itch, but he doesn’t stop, your gaze follows him and oh, oh fuck. He’s got this tight, obvious hardness in his jeans. Straining so hard the zipper is shaking with tension. You’ve never seen anything like this.

Your mind is racing, this isn’t just horniness, Luffy has never been sexsick like this before.

You trace it all back and nothing was wrong when he left. Just bright eyed innocence, affection, nothing strange. And suddenly it hits you, that box, those chocolates.

Oh god. Oh my god.

You fed him an aphrodisiac. An aphrodisiac from a sketchy shop in an old-town basement, a powerful drug, just one would keep you up a whole night.

And you let Luffy eat them all.

“Lu… god, I’m sorry,” is all you can say as he crawls into your lap and breathes on your face. You take off his hat and ruffle his hair. How can you even explain this to him? He’s not going to understand. “I’m so sorry. This is my fault, I gave you an aphrodisiac by mistake.” You’re choked up. You hurt him.

“…” Luffy’s mouth is hanging open, drool coating his chin, dazed, so confused. “Hm?” His voice is even gravelier than normal.

“Those weren’t normal chocolates. They make your body… ready for sex? It’s supposed to be a fun thing. B- but I forgot they weren’t just normal chocolates! God, I’m so sorry.” You’re breaking down, you’re cuddling with him now, head on his shoulder.

“Oh.” You can’t really tell how much he understands. And his voice is quiet when he asks, “when’s it gonna go ‘way?”

“…I don’t know. I’m gonna try to help, ok? Let’s fuck for a few hours and get it out. It’s gonna be ok, Lu.”

His pupils expand when you say this, his eyes going from brown to deep black. He wants that so, so bad. He’s just sort of figuring that out now. “Heh, yeah.” He squirms in your lap, cock so hard you can feel his zipper sliding down on its own, as his breath gets heavier, this desperate ball of energy spasming in your arms.

Then he smiles. And he attacks.

He flips you onto your back and groans, hips thrusting into yours as his lips find your mouth, saliva leaking past your lips, you swallow as they part. You’re wearing these soft cotton shorts and you feel his aching cock smacking the fabric as it pushes and strains to break free from his pants with every motion. He moans so loud you know everyone can hear. Now he’s drooling again, spitting on your face because he’s lost control of his jaw, you’re winded but you grab his face and kiss him, he didn’t even know he needed this.

He falls on you now. He’s all splayed out and whining and just kissing you as if he’s been challenged, teeth and tongue working through every part of your mouth. He’s loud when he kisses, and now every breath is a groan of want.

“Undress me…” you whisper to him, grabbing the back of his neck, he seems like he’ll explode if he keeps on like this without being deep inside you.

With a strangled “Mh,” Luffy’s fingernails scrape your skin in a desperate attempt to pull off your dress. He’s ripping cloth, damn, you can hear him ripping cloth. Nothing you can do now.

But you can tell as your skin shines bare and he tears his own clothes from his body, as his sweat drenches you and that heat like a tropical hurricane all over but especially where it pools between his legs and oh you’d be scared if you looked there now, you can tell he’s about to just go in you with no thought or reason and harder than he’s ever gone before. So — and you hate to do this — you grab his shoulders. You stare him in the eyes.

“Luffy. Listen to me.”

your eyes reach his soul, he tries to look at you with anything close to coherence, he wants to follow your lead, he doesn’t understand anything right now. But there’s a hailstorm inside his mind. But he tries to listen.

“Don’t be too rough, please, can you promise?” Your voice is shaky because you’re not sure what he’s about to do. Luffy would never intentionally hurt you but he’s powerful, his body is strange, he works in ways neither of you understand. He has the power to really, really damage you and the carelessness to not see it happening. So you beg him with your eyes.

“I promise,” he gasps softly, one hand curling behind your neck, and he presses his face against your cheek, trying to harden his eyes in the gentle seriousness of the moment. Luffy is incapable of feeling sadism towards you of any kind and he’s at war with his body and the energy bursting within him right now. But he promises.

You smile and your feet rest on his hips and thighs, you feel him sizzling beneath your touch. The surface of his skin wavers before your eyes from the heat, you understand now the idea of mirages, he looks covered in amber rain even as his skin burns beneath your hands.

“Slow,” you ask softly in his ear, making Luffy whine in hunger.

There it is. What you don’t dare look at you can feel. Swollen and throbbing it feels like a whole other animal is just clawing there beneath that rice paper skin. You can feel his heartbeat in the tip of his cock as he touches you and it speeds up thousands of times in an instant. His thighs clamp around yours and his nails are sharp and Luffy groans in your ear. He’s made of nerve endings that send him twitching writhing with every tiny movement. He needs you now.

He pushes himself in and every bit of friction sends him convulsing against you, squeezing you tighter. You can feel the struggle in his muscles to hold back but that deep, tangible yearning for relief. He’s in and you’re both gasping for air. You’re not used to the size or the heat or that artificially induced power that’s overcome his body. But you’re proud of him and you tug his hair to tell him a quiet thank you, you’re ok, he’s keeping you safe.

All your touches are too much. His hips move messily against you like he doesn’t have the capacity to understand what to do right now. But he’s just going to follow that deep primal craving so he rocks into you with all his weight, crushing you again and again, eyes closed, mouth trying to find yours.

It’s the movement but also the way you’re being held. It’s a scary heaven. He’s going deep and he’s not pulling out just throwing himself against you over and over as if there’s any more he has to go. He’s whimpering and his body is shaking in need.

But he goes faster and now this is what you’re scared of, weighted rubber moves and stretches with momentum, he’s squeezing you tighter and tighter and with each slam against your body his cock buries into you so impossibly deep as his skin stretches and snaps within you. You whine and try to steady him but Luffy’s in this cloud right now. His teeth are digging deep into your neck and he’s drooling all over you, saliva dripping down your shoulder and chest.

When he cums it’s so hot it feels like lava. There’s so much of it. That relief at the slowness, liquid soothing beaten flesh, that’s heaven as you lay beneath him, wrapped in his arms. Is it over? No, no it isn’t.

But first, while he’s stunned and unable to move, you squish his face in your hands. “Luffy,” you breathe heavily into his mouth, “be more gentle. Please. You’re gonna hurt me.”

His eyes are wide and concerned. “I hurt you?” he whimpers from his swollen, shiny lips.

“I’m ok, don’t worry, just please be more gentle.” And you smile at him. That sets something off in his heart and you feel him harden again inside you.

He grins, lifting you back so you’re pressed against his chest, on his lap. And he shoves you down against him as you squirm in his arms, he rolls your hips on his as his strong hands take total control of your body, hungry eyes gazing at you with deep, immeasurable lust. From this new position he has so much control, he’s using your body for his release in as loving a way as possible, biting at your skin. You’re left to twitch in his grasp and hug him, letting yourself bask in this incredible tsunami.

The bouncing and stretching of his cock isn’t as bad in this position although you’re still impossibly full, limp in the overwhelming motion. But that heat is becoming uncomfortable, your cheek from its rest on his shoulder is covered in layers of sweat and you feel it pooling around every point of contact. He smells like burning rubber and thick, palpable sweat. His skin begins to sear your hands and you only realize what’s happening when he starts to steam. Billowing steam clouding your room and soaking you in hot, wet air like you’re in an erupting volcano. You’re not sure which gear he’s changing to and you don’t want to find out.

“LUFFY!” You yell through your haze and hit his back and it’s so hard to talk to him like this, his moans are drowning out your cries, he’s moving faster and faster and his hair and mouth and the area between your legs is already lost in clouds of white steam. “STOP!”

He yelps and rolls off of you. Your words cut his heart. You’re both drenched and your bed is soaking, your hair in your eyes dripping down your face mixed with tears you didn’t even know were there. Luffy looks confused, disoriented, he’s still steaming but it’s slowing now, his skin is dulling to its usual hue, his hair falls back over his face. He doesn’t know what to say.

“You were changing gears,” you murmur under your breath. “Luffy, that could’ve been bad.”

“I’m- I’m sorry…” he whimpers and looks down at himself. There’s still a cloud of blinding steam circling up the shaft of his cock, blooming from his tip and shimmering in droplets rolling down the red, tight skin. He looks at you with puppy eyes, needing your arms again.

You let him crawl to you. You let him place his head under your hand to be pet and comforted. He feels terrible but he feels sick, too, a sickness only cured by the deepest and most indescribable pleasure. He’s melting in your arms, as needy as when he was given to you, eyes blurry. You let him rest his head in your lap and drink in your scent, blankets tucked between his legs for the slightest friction.

“It’ll feel better if you don’t go so fast,” you say softly, stroking his wet hair. And he nods.

“Can I have more now? I’ll be better to ya. I really promise.”

His hands feel gentler now. You let him climb your body and capture you in another deep kiss. And with your legs crossed behind his back you let him fuck you again and chase his second orgasm and he’s right, he’s better now. He’s fighting with his body but he’s better.

When he cums again it feels boiling hot. It’s shot after shot deep inside you and he tugs your hair, bites your shoulder, strokes your lower stomach before moving down to rub at your clit which is incredible because he never thinks of that. This drug is making him different, his mind is overwhelmed by sex in a way it never is. Part of you likes it a lot. It’s new. It’s fun.

It doesn’t take him long before he’s hard again and dragging his cock through your walls in deep, deliberate strokes with his tongue in your mouth. Luffy is a million miles above the earth. With every orgasm his world shakes and crumbles for an instant before it’s rebuilt again in waves of desire that send him higher, higher. He’s a million miles above the earth and even as hours slip by and his body is drained again and again, he can’t come down.

__________________________

At some point the ship has set sail again. Clouds crawl by the porthole and the ocean rocks you both but you and Luffy stay in that soaked bed and get lost in each other for so long that you don’t even know what’s real anymore. You can’t tell sensation from sensation. Neither can he but he can’t come down.

There was that perfect sweet spot where you had just swam in each other in bliss and peace. You didn’t have to stop his gear changes anymore because his body had adjusted to this new universe. And you were in tune with each other. But now, now it’s bad again.

But in a different way.

Luffy is exhausted but so desperate still. His tears have started again and he doesn’t know what to do and he can’t even move and every part of his body aches. You’ve never seen him like this during sex, he’s never weak or tired. But his body is drained.

But that drug won’t let go.

“You ok?” you’re whispering, hand on his face. You lift Luffy in your arms and place him on his back. His eyes won’t leave yours, he’s starry eyed and love struck through his tears.

“Mh…” is all you can make out. He looks down at himself, his body is dripping wet and his cock is hard again, throbbing hard in overstimulation.

Every touch seems like it’s painful to him now. But he wants more so, so bad. So you place a pillow under his head, you curl up against his body, and you rub him with your hand. Your arm gets tired but you keep going for as long as you possibly can. And sometimes Luffy will open his mouth in a silent, breathless moan, sometimes his body will convulse and his cock will twitch. But his orgasms are dry now. There’s nothing left in him.

The last one, that’s when he grabs your face. With his last bit of strength he rolls onto you and clutches your cheeks in his hands and just stares at you, not letting you move, his thighs squeezing your leg. He rubs himself off on you one last time and with a final shudder he’s done. It’s all gone. It’s over.

He collapses into your arms, too tired to breathe anymore. You expect him to just sleep right there but instead he twists onto his back, batting at your face with his palm lazily, playfully. He giggles. He looks dreamy and dazed. But happy, actually. Really happy.

“Feeling alright?” You’re worried. You’re guilty, still. You’re praying nothing hurt him or made him sick.

“Mhm. Feel good!” Luffy’s beaming as if he already forgot everything that happened. He’s glowing, chest rising and falling heavily. But he tilts his head questioningly, “you?”

“Yeah. Just sore.” To which he rolls onto his elbows, kicking his legs in the air, he holds your body, he gives your hips a soft kiss. He’s appreciative, he’s so soft now, honey skin glowing in the sleepy sunshine.

But everything is wet. Your clothes on the bed next to you, the sheets, your bodies and hair. So with your arms around his shoulders, because it will be hard to walk for a while, the two of you throw on robes and step outside. You forgot the smell of fresh sea air after that mist of sex and sweat. Luffy’s heart beats against yours, calm and healthy, steady.

He sets you down and you take him in your arms, now, laying him against the mast. You take a towel to his hair, drying him, the sun on the wind sending the dewdrops you’re made of falling away from your shoulders in rainbows. You’re glittering, you and Luffy.

You should get you both some food soon, you should give yourselves a real bath, you should go and comfort Zoro and assure him that you’re both ok. But not yet. You don’t want that yet.

You avoid the eyes of the others as they pass below. You don’t want to talk about this with anyone but Luffy right now, the boy who looks like an angel resting below you, chiseled glistening body, sunlight divinity. He opens his mouth, he kisses your fingertips as you brush hair from his cheeks.

He wants to talk to you at first but he finds that his eyes are too heavy. He just yawns instead, and bares his teeth in a smile. And he holds your hand tightly with this deep, profound gratitude. You hear him whisper, beneath his breath, that he loves you.

#luffy x reader smut #one piece smut #luffy x reader #one piece #luffy #one piece x reader #one piece fanfiction #luffy x y/n #luffy x you #luffy smut #aphrodisiac luffy #luffy x f!reader

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dirtyheathencommie · 1 year

Text

DEAR EDUCATIONALLY NEGLECTED HOMESCHOOLERS

I’ve gathered some resources and tips and tricks on self-educating after educational neglect. This is only what I did and what I know helped me. I’m about to graduate college with honors after having no education past the age of 9. I wouldn’t be here without the following. Everything is free, and at/well above the standard for education in the US.

The holy grail: Khan Academy. Nearly every course you could take is available here, in order and by grade level. Their open-source free courses rival some of the college classes I’ve taken. This is your most solid resource.

For inattentive types: Crash Course offers a variety of courses that are snappy, entertaining, and extremely rewarding. They work for my ADHD brain. They also have college prep advice, which is essential if you’re looking to go to higher education with no classroom experience.

To catch up on your reading: There are certain books that you may have read had you gone to school that you’ve missed out on. This list is the most well-rounded and can fill you in on both children’s books and classic novels that are essential or at least extremely helpful to be familiar with. You can find a majority of these easily at a local library (and some for free in PDF form online low key). There are a few higher level classics in here that I’d highly recommend. If it doesn’t work for you, I’d always recommend asking your local librarian.

*BE AWARE* The book list I recommend suggests you read Harry Potter books, and given their transphobic author you may or may not want to read them. If you choose to, I’d highly recommend buying the books secondhand or borrowing from a library to avoid financially supporting a living author with dangerous and damaging views.

TEST, TEST, TEST: Again, Khan Academy is your go-to for this. I don’t personally like standardized testing, but going through SAT and ACT courses was the best way I found to really reveal my gaps so that I could supplement.

Finally: As much as you can, enjoy the process. Education can be thrilling and teach you so much about yourself, and help shape your view of the world. It can get frustrating, but I’d like to encourage you that everyone can learn. No pace is the perfect pace, and your learning style is the right learning style for you. In teaching yourself, be patient, be kind, and indulge in the subjects you really enjoy without neglecting others. You are your teacher. Give yourself what others chose not to.

#if you have any questions please don’t hesitate to message me anything #I’ll help however I can #homeschool #ex fundamentalist #ex homeschool #ex homeschooled #educational neglect #education #self education #ex fundie #send me asks #homeschool recovery #resources #educate yourself #ex christian #exvangelical #religious trauma #tw religion #deconstructing christianity

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cauliflowercounty · 2 months

Text

Knives Dance (Part I)

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader

After years of writing *literally nothing,* I never expected bald Austin Butler to inspire me again :)

Life does wonderful things sometimes. Feyd Rautha is a fucking snack. And whoops it looks like I invented a planet and a culture :/

Summary: You're the daughter of the Duke of the House of Ronen, and your father and Vladimir Harkonnen have arranged a marriage between you and Feyd-Rautha to join your two houses. When the House of Harkonnen pays a visit to your planet, Feyd discovers something unforeseen within himself during an assassination attempt…

Reader: she/her pronouns

Warnings: innuendo/suggestive content, attempted assassination, blood, violence, multiple murders

Word Count: 4.2k

Part I | Part II | Part III

The hydraulics whirr as the black metal ramp of the Harkonnen vessel opens downward onto the stone landing pad on planet Youra and hits the ground with a low thunk. Feyd follows his uncle as he floats out of the vessel toward the doors of the Youran citadel, which is nestled in the center of a towering mountain covered in dense forest. Through the canopy, he sees the flickering lights from within the treehouses that adorn the forest cover.

The fortress itself is bathed in a warm, yellow glow from the round floating lanterns that surround it. As they hover, they seem to spiral upwards in a concentric spiral and extend their reach up into the night sky. A line of Youran soldiers flank the walkway, dressed in ceremonial garb of earthy, brown leathers with teal accents and intricate geometric patterns. As the Harkonnens pass, the soldiers bow their heads to them, allowing the carved silver helmets to shine in the evening light.

The environment here could not be further from that of Giedi Prime with its cold, industrial landscape devoid of color and the stench of sulfur and gas. The jungle air here is saccharine and floral on Feyd’s tongue. He feels the brush of the evening breeze flowing past him out toward the sea from the surrounding jungle. As he breathes in, he notices the richness of the air, imbued with the essence of all the flora that have made Youra a treasure trove for natural resources and experimental medicines, reminding him why he and his uncle have arrived on this planet.

The endeavor to secure spice on Arrakis had not gone as smoothly as the Harkonnens had hoped, especially with constant Fremen attacks sabotaging their forces and Rabban’s pitiful attempt at countermeasures. The current state of their operation and the number of soldiers they were losing daily called for acquiring a new tactical advantage. As much as they hated to admit it, they would have been foolish not to seek one out.

The advantage lay on Youra, the planet of island rainforests and the home of the minor House of Ronen, where an uncountable number of plant and animal species flourished, supplying the population with life-saving natural compounds the renowned scientists had been extracting from nature and developing for centuries. Through this arranged marriage, the wealth of chemical knowledge and access to the raw materials would become House Harkonnen’s. Feyd could begin to taste his ascension to power. This was simply the next step necessary to turn the tides of this conflict on Arrakis, which would inevitably end in him assuming the title of Baron if not Emperor.

With a low rumble, the double doors in front of Feyd open to reveal your father and yourself. Laying eyes on you for the first time, Feyd stops in place, his heavy black boots almost stuck on the ground. When the conversation of an arranged marriage came up with his uncle, he was beyond apathetic, knowing that this would be a political move in which he had no obligation to have any investment. The woman would become his wife only by title. To his astonishment, he is entranced by your beauty, to the point of speechlessness. He almost completely ignores your father’s greeting and speech about the union of your two houses. You are radiant with your skin that glows in the light, unlike that of the Harkonnen women he is used to seeing. You look into his eyes, and he feels almost locked in, the rest of the world fading until all he sees is you.

“Welcome to our home, na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen,” you say to him, not breaking eye contact from underneath your headdress. Your striking eyes bore deep into his soul. It’s almost as if they’re calling to him. What’s most interesting to Feyd is that they don’t seem to contain a hint of fear or apprehension. He is used to making those around him crumple under the weight of their own terror with his mere presence so he can exploit those emotions and manipulate them as his own personal playthings. In defiance of his reputation, you seem undeterred by him staring straight at you. As your eyes glimmer in the lamplight, he feels his breath almost catch as they taunt him, draw him. Snapping himself out of the trance, a smirk forms on his lips, remembering how his uncle taught him to behave. He forces himself to relish the thought of toying with your apparent resolve.

As he looks down, he eyes your lavish, floor-length regalia. The same deep brown and teal that your father and the soldiers wear decorates the patterns on your cloak. He notices lines of gold thread woven into your hair, an appropriate show of the natural resources of your planet.

Strange, he thinks. The cloak is rather large and heavy. Despite matching the designs of the other Youran garb, it seems out of place to be a traditional outfit for the aristocracy of a rainforest civilization where the warm and humid conditions should prove inhospitable for cloaks of this nature.

The delicate, meek flower he was expecting to relish picking apart with ease you are not. He’s figured out you're a woman with something you’re intent on hiding from him. You’ve put on this front either bravely or stupidly, and Feyd-Rautha will peel back every layer one calculated move at a time until you are finally entirely his.

He steps forward and reaches down to take your hand in his. “My betrothed…” he whispers to you, his voice low and gravelly. “We finally meet, Little One. I must say you look exquisite. I expected nothing less.” He brings your fingers up to his lips and brushes his lips across them before pressing firm a kiss on the back of your hand His uncle seems most disgusted by Feyd’s tenderness, but Feyd keeps his gaze on you through hooded eyes, knowing that the first move in any game is imperative to the success of his endeavor. He sees yours flicker for a moment as your body tenses listening to his praise. He’s got you right where he wants you.

–

Dinner is filled with monotonous diplomacy, tiresome pleasantries, and planning of the wedding to take place on Giedi Prime, but Feyd hasn’t let his attention break from you. It’s as if the kiss he planted on your hand was the catalyst for the first crack in the wall you’ve put up, and now he’s waiting for the perfect moment to make his next move.

All of dinner he’s watched as you attentively listened to his uncle and your father exchange words and eat your dinner. He hasn’t failed to notice how your eyes dart over to look at him through your lashes. With every gesture you make and every word you say, he feels unequivocally enraptured. As much as he’s tried to suppress his emotions and stay faithful to his uncle’s teachings, grounded in violence and viciousness, his mind starts to wander.

He wonders what must it be like to have your touch flutter across his chest when he watches you delicately grasp your water goblet. When you fold your lips around your cup to drink, he imagines what they must feel like on his skin if you were to drag them down his neck tantalizingly slow. What if you were close enough to him to have your breath fan out across his skin as your lips caressed his? What must it be like to hold your softness in his hands? The very idea makes his breath hitch.

Of the many thoughts he has as he watches you, many of them becoming increasingly lewd as dinner continues, one remains in his head: if he is this captured by just your face and gaze, basking in the light of what you’re concealing under your cloak, must be heaven adjacent.

His desire to use you and leverage your own will against you is being chipped away little by little. Feyd’s hardened persona that his uncle helped construct is withering with every second he spends in your presence. The notion is nearly frightening to Feyd, but with every single glance and gesture, his heart, which may have turned to stone long ago, is beginning to accept it.

Feyd rips his attention away from you as your father stands to thank the Harkonnens once again for coming. “I shall have my servants show you where you shall be staying,” your father announces as he rises from his seat. “I have arranged for our head researchers to show you what progress we have had in our synthetic undertakings as of late. I guarantee you will be very interested in what they have to offer.”

As you stand, he notices how your hands pull together the front seam of your cloak, preventing it from opening. Curious.

You bid him goodnight and turn away to head to your quarters as a Youran servant beckons him to the guest wing. That night, Feyd cannot rest as he lays awake in bed in the opulent guest suite, images of you running through his head, and he almost smiles thinking about when you say his name so sweetly.

“Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen.”

–

The next day, Feyd sees little of you. In the morning, he makes his way to your quarters only to be informed by a servant at your door that you have already departed for the day. When he asks where you have gone, the servant provides a murky response about your duties as Lady of the House and wedding preparations, which he as her betrothed would “surely understand.” Just as he decides he will find you himself, he is seized by his uncle as to meet the Youran ministers of culture, science, and development to learn about their acquisition.

Feyd cannot deny that your homeworld is impressive. It’s steeped in centuries of exploration and inquiry with unmatched record-keeping of not only science but tradition, too. The ceilings are vaulted and adorned with gold. The walls of the citadel are covered in elaborate murals painted on with vibrant colors or carved into the surfaces. Some depict traditional folktales, gods, and ceremonies while those opposite them describe the evolutionary lines of species, a true testament to Youra’s modernity and dedication to preserving your peoples’ history in living memory. If only he knew which mural decorates the wall concealing you.

As the picture of your world’s history becomes clearer, the air of mystery surrounding you only grows. Not once has he heard talk of you after his interaction with that servant, but throughout the day he has sensed hushed whispers that are almost certainly about him instead. As he passes soldiers, some of them almost seem to leer at his presence.

A few times, he thinks he can almost see the hem of your cape disappear around corners, but when he goes to investigate, there is nobody there. The anger he expected to have inside him due to your avoidance is nowhere to be seen, and only a burning intrigue remains.

“What a little enigma my wife is,” he thinks to himself when he enters the banquet hall for dinner as the last ray of sunlight fades from the windows as the sun dips below the horizon.

Almost on cue, the doors to the hall open again and to his gratification, it is you. He stands up from his seat and walks over to you. He cannot deny his own inclination when you smile at him softly, putting him at ease.

“Good evening, Na-Baron,” you greet as he stops in front of you. Your dulcet tones go straight to his heart, causing it to skip a beat. “I hope I’ve not kept you waiting long.”

“Not at all.” He takes your hands in his once again, running his thumb along the back of them and savoring the feeling of your soft skin. This time when his heart swells, he lets it happen, surrendering himself to your charm. “I would wait an eternity for you,” he says, realizing you enjoy it when he romances you.

“You don’t strike me as a man who likes to be kept waiting,” you reply, looking up into his eyes. “I am surprised you are not frustrated with me.”

“I make exceptions,” he replies, noticing how your lips curl into a small smile. “… for when it truly matters. Since you’ve been absent all day, tell me, Little One, what have you been doing while you were hiding from me all day?”

You let out a gentle exhale. “I assumed you might be curious about that,” you say to him, as you clasp his hands in yours, beginning to tug him backwards to the doors. “Would you join me outside before we eat, Na-Baron? I have something I want to show you that I’ve been working on in preparation for our marriage.”

Allowing you to lead him, he follows you as you pull him through the halls of the fortress. He senses the answers to the questions he’s been asking himself are within his grasp. You both head outdoors and descend a grand staircase toward a courtyard nestled in the center of the fortress that overlooks the ocean that is now a murky midnight blue.

The nighttime lanterns light the way once again, and you both continue into the courtyard which is unlike anything he’s ever seen before. The ground seems to be a single sheet of rust colored stone that is marbled with shards shimmery metals. The slab has massive circles cut into it spaced in a perfect grid. Inside the circle is a golden pool of luminescent water. Tall, half moon shaped walls cradle each pool with glyphs and carvings etched into them.

“What is this place?” he asks you, basking in the light emanating from all of the pools that surround the both of you as you continue down the center aisle.

“This is my favorite place in the castle,” you explain. “It’s where we keep one of every species our researchers are currently studying. The rock wall above the pools describes each evolutionary line and the discoveries about it we’ve made. There’s one I want to show you if you would allow me.”

He nods as you bring him to a pool whose accompanying slab remains blank. Looking down into the water, he spots a single indigo fish with long, delicate fins that trail behind it in the water. He watches as it circles the pool. It slows and shudders momentarily. A single incandescent scale breaks off and floats to the bottom of the pool. You kneel to gather the scale from the bottom, holding it so that he can see how the light flickers off its surface.

“Does it intrigue you?” he hears you ask, and he nods in return as something he thought he lost long ago begins to emerge inside of him: his sense of wonder.

“I have never seen such a creature. Would you tell me about it?”

“It would be my pleasure,” you grin. “This fish was discovered on an archipelago on the other side of the planet. I’ve been studying this fish with our most expert researchers. The pools it lives in almost disappear during the dry season, but we’ve found that they survive to the wet season because of their scales somehow. My father doesn’t know any of this. He still thinks we know nothing of this creature.”

“It’s marvelous,” he whispers to you, eyeing the small bubbles floating to the top of the water from the fish’s gills.

“I wanted to show you this fish because this is at the heart of our culture on Youra. Our people are on a constant mission to learn and discover, so we can help and care for those we hold dearest. With our marriage, the House of Harkonnen will be a part of that endeavor. I’m showing you this fish because when the fish shed their scales at the beginning of the wet season, they contain a high concentration of a novel compound that allows living things to retain water.”

He sees you fidget with your own hands as you explain. You’re nervous, he realizes.

“We have been able to extract it from the scales they drop,” you say with a slight waiver in your voice. Here you are bearing your hard work and dedication, your soul to him. Your vulnerability is evident. Before you were so confident with your gaze and now your eyes never stay on him for more than a fraction of a moment. If you were anyone else, he would have taken full advantage the opportunity to leverage your weakness, but he cannot bring himself to do so. “This knowledge is my gift to you na-Baron. I have been aware of your endeavors on Arrakis. I realize you may not be as invested in this arrangement as we are, but I wanted to give you this to mark the beginning of what is to come… I don’t expect you to do anything in return. Only wanted to communicate my intentions.”

His heart quivers as his mind darts back to the countless times his uncle has “gifted” things to him as rewards for doing his bidding. The concubines, armor, and weapons all fall to the wayside; now they’re all tainted in Feyd's mind by his uncle's conniving ways. They were never gifts in earnest, always being transactional or part of another of his uncle’s Machiavellian schemes. Never in his life had he been given something so thoughtful, something intended to truly protect him. The previous notions he had before of possessing you are bitter on his tongue. Now, he could never and the shame he feels for maybe the first time in years begins to burn into his psyche.

“Na-Baron,” you plead, bringing him out of his own thoughts. “Say something, please.”

“Thank you,” he finally says, taking your hands in his and giving them a squeeze. “I am grateful for your generosity, my little flower.”

Your eyes well up with tears and you let out a relieved sigh before your emotions bubble out of you. “You cannot fathom how happy I am to hear you say those words,” you say, bringing your hands to his again. “I was so worried about showing you this!”

Right when he opens his mouth to respond, his instincts as a warrior kick in as he hears the soft whistle of something flying through the air towards the both of you. In a flash, he’s grabbed you by your shoulder to force you to your knees as you let out a bewildered yelp. The sound lights his veins on fire and fills him with rage.

Against the blank stone slab of the fish’s pool he sees it: a green splatter of a sinister substance that drips down the stone in long tendrils. Below, the shattered remains of a poisoned dart sinking into the water. You’ve seen it, too. He swivels himself around in the direction the arrow came from. A hooded figure is emerging from behind another one of the stone walls, a serrated dagger in hand, poised to strike you down. Feyd reprimands himself for leaving his weapons behind in his room in the name of diplomacy, but he’s prepared to fight empty handed to protect you and punish your assailant.

Before he realizes, you’ve shed your cloak, allowing it to drop to the floor behind you and Feyd can finally see what you’ve been hiding. You’re wearing a sage green dress with a bodice plated in iron that’s been secured to in place with intricate leather straps and golden loops that wrap deliciously around your figure. The symmetric slits in your dress that extend almost to your hips reveal your garters where two silver daggers that curve into formidable hooks are secured to your outer thighs.

As soon as he realizes you’re armed, you’ve already grasped the leather wrapped handles of your weapons and drawn them from your thighs with a flourish, launching yourself at your attacker. The ground reverberates with your power, and your blades ring out as they clash with your opponent’s. The man grunts upon impact and with a vigorous push, you knock his weapon upwards and away from you as you swipe at his face with the other hand. When he stumbles backwards, his face covering is swept to the side.

“Ozran!” you growl as the man regains his composure. “What is the meaning of this? Traitor!”

“I could say the same for you, Lady Ronen, revealing our secrets to that Harkonnen!” Ozran snarls at you, his eyes wild as he begins swiping sloppily at your head, which you dodge with ease. Feyd knows the man is getting desperate. Ozran is quickly realizing running away would have been the best option after his poisoned arrow missed.

Ozran attempts to shake off his regret by hurling himself at you, trying to recover the situation now that he’s committed to one-on-one combat with you. “I will not stand by and have the rewards of our peoples’ work reaped by them. Without a daughter to marry off, our intelligence will remain ours, and I will protect it to the end, even if that means killing you.”

Feyd hears you tisk at his pitiful attempt at your life as your heel makes contact with his nose. Blood gushes from his nostrils and drips down his chin in thick droplets. He staggers back and loses his footing as you drive your blades into him, your footsteps smearing his blood on the floor as you move. Ozran’s hope drains from his eyes, and he coughs as you pull your knives back, his blood spilling onto the stone floor from the gaping hole in his body. He drops his weapon and it clatters on the ground beside him.

“Too bad you couldn’t get close enough to actually do any damage,” you say sweetly to him as he wheezes. “You were never a man worthy of battle. I’m surprised you even worked up the courage to merely attempt to kill me.”

“D-don’t worry, dear Lady,” he sneers as his knees hit the floor. “There are more of us who don’t appreciate our leaders betraying our ideals. They will avenge me, and you will join me in death.” With that, his body crumples in the pool of his own blood. Drawing his last breath, Feyd sees Ozran’s consciousness fade. From the shadows and behind the other stone walls, he senses more figures lurking.

“Na-Baron!” you call, as you throw Feyd your second knife, which he catches with a flick of his wrist as you pick up Ozran’s weapon. Your dagger is robust and extraordinarily crafted, truly a weapon worthy of your status Feyd thinks. With that, he joins you in battle when Ozran’s allies pounce, eager to avenge their fallen comrade. One by one, he cuts the treasonous soldiers down with you by his side, slashing their throats, stabbing them in their backs, hearing their bones break, and tendons tear. It’s exhilarating, fighting not just for you, but with you in perfect synchronization.

When the last one falls, their mangled bodies are piled around you. He looks at you with complete admiration in his eyes. Without a second thought, he pulls you close with desperation. Cradling your face in his free hand, he kisses you roughly and swipes his tongue across your bottom lip, tasting the familiar tang of iron. As you kiss him back with a fervor that makes his senses sing, he uses his other arm to pull you close, if he’s worried that you will join the souls of the dead around you and leave this world, something he can’t bear to think of now.

Reluctantly, you both break away from the kiss, resting your foreheads against one another. Your breaths are thick and heaving. You look down at his dominant hand, which still holds your second dagger.

“Are you going to kill me now, Na-Baron?” you ask as you look up at him, and he instinctively throws the knife away, letting it clatter on the floor. He shakes his head.

“I never anticipated my betrothed to have such prowess in battle,” he whispers lowly, returning his hand to your body. He drags his fingers across the places where the straps of your dress make indentations in your skin, making you shiver at his touch. His grip on your waist tightens when he palms your supple skin. You hum a sigh of satisfaction that is almost music to Feyd’s ears, and he could listen to it all day. “Watching you cut down each of them… What a lovely surprise it was… You are truly an unexpected paragon, my dear.”

“Unexpected…” you chuckle, blushing at his flattery. “May I ask another question of you?”

“Of course,” he replies, peering down at you with an ardent stare.

“Before coming here, were you aware there are many dangerous things in the rainforest, Na-Baron?” He nods. “Then why would you assume I am not one of them?”

“Clever girl,” he grins, pressing another kiss on your forehead.

“From now on, my blades will fight for you, Feyd-Rautha.”

“And mine for you, my love,” he replies as he dips his lips back down to yours. What a fool he was before, anticipating so little from his future wife. Now he knows better. He realizes who you really are, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough.

Thank you for reading!

Knives Dance Part II OUT NOW!

Let me know if you want to be added to my Feyd tag list

Taglist:

@austinbutlerslovers

#dune 2 #dune part two #dune part 2 #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd x you #x reader #austin butler

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illyrian-dreamer · 6 months

Text

Our girl – Part 6

Azriel x Cassian x fem reader angst

Word count: 5k

Warnings: Violence, character death

<<< Part 5

“Y/N, we are ready for you,” Thesan said with a soft smile.

You swallowed as you entered the decadent marble room, the binder under your arm almost bursting with hundreds of papers of research you collated.

Several powerful sets of eyes fell on you, and you forced your own forward, fighting the instinct to cast them low in respect. You were doing this for Prythian, for all fae – they should feel honoured for the opportunity, not you.

With smiles from Tarquin and Tamlin, you took the seat Thesan withdrew for you – the tall, regal shape foreign as it pressed to your back.

Rhysand and Feyre sat opposite, their eyes warm beneath their gaze. But you were too preoccupied to meet it.

“And since when are we in the business of inviting commoners to these meetings? I won't share my table with court-crossing whores.”

You let out a tired breath, your patience for the male ego completely diminished over the past years.

“I suppose you’ve excused that every time one of your sons has sat for these meetings, Beron?”

The words had left your mouth before you could stop them.

Beron’s eyes widened, his face flushing red, and a few snorts and stifled laughs could be heard across the table.

Fuck – you could kiss Autumn’s allegiance goodbye. You would have to be a lot less impulsive if you were to make it out of this meeting alive.

"I will not–" Beron began, his hands curling into fists.

“Oh calm yourself Beron, you had no right to insult her in the first place.” Tarquin was grinning at you – ever the loyal friend. You gave him a tight smile to say thanks.

“And if you’re wondering who invited her here, you can steer your anger towards me,” Tamlin spoke smoothly, intertwining his fingers as he placed his solid arms on the table, meeting Beron’s glare with confidence.

“I for one, would like to hear what Y/N has to say,” Feyre added, with a confident nod to you.

It seemed you had an alliance at play all along.

With clear of your throat, you opened your binder, rolling out a detailed map of Prythian and with it months of research on each of the courts. You took a breath, and began the proposal you and your team had spent weeks perfecting.

“You may have heard of aid work spreading across Spring in light of the aftermath of the war. My team and I have worked tirelessly to support vulnerable communities across the court, providing food, medicine and shelter for those devastated by Hybern.”

“Spring Court only suffered devastation because of its alliance with Hybern in the first place,” Kallias interrupted, followed by a murmur of agreements.

Tamlin straightened. “I acknowledge my court was left at Hybern's mercy due to my decisions. But Y/N has worked despite of that – and it’s what makes her work so important.”

“In what way?” Thesan asked.

“A courtless ambition,” you affirmed. “A team of volunteers – made from all courts, for all courts. Resources provided from across Prythian, shared equally to help those in need despite what throne they serve.”

There was a moment of silence, before Beron sounded a loud snort.

“Don't trust her for one second,” he scoffed, pointing a finger at you. “She’s been hauled up in Spring Court for over a year now. No doubt this is a ruse to have us open our borders. She’ll be free to rob our people and lands, all the while fucking her handsome High Lord.”

“Watch how you speak of her,” Rhysand growled, night crawling across the table, the purple in his eyes all but gone.

You had to interject before this meeting finished as quickly as it started. “I assure you, this mission has no binding to Spring Court. It is to exist without borders so we may help anyone in need, and travel with ease to provide urgent care.”

Beron ignored Rhysand and instead cold eyes to you, his lips curling with distaste. “And you believe we need your help?” he spat. “The fae of Spring are weak. My subjects are well cared for, and my court is thriving.”

Gods, you could see where Eris got it from.

“According to my research, inflation in your court is a second close to Spring, and displacement is rising with little access to healers after you centralised them during the war.”

Beron’s face flushed an even deeper red than before, his eyes turning to a murderous cold and your stomach twisted with both fear and delight.

“There is not one court here that is in a position to refuse this kind of offer,” Tarquin said with sweeping calm, silencing Beron before he could bubble over. “We would do well to not let our pride stop an ambition of this size.”

“Y/N,” he added, turning to you. “I admire the work you have done in Spring, Tamlin has testified and frankly sung much high praise. If you might show me your plans of what role Summer Court could play in your mission, I would be happy to come to an agreement to provide volunteers and resources.”

You swallowed, your heart swelling. You had no doubt Tarquin would offer his allegiance, but it was a milestone all the same. “Thank you, Tarquin.”

“My mate and I would like to offer the allegiance of the Night Court. We would be honoured for your help,” Feyre’s face strong and stern, but you knew them well enough to feel the waves of pride from both her and Rhys.

“Consider Day Court an ally too,” Hellion beamed, trusting of Feyre’s alliance to now make his own. “We have some of the oldest practicing healers – if you can help spread their knowledge across our lands, it will help us to grow stronger as a continent, and perhaps more resistant should we face another invasion in future.”

“Thank you,” you said, bowing your head gratefully to the High Lords and Lady around you.

“You’re all fools,” Beron spat, pushing up from his chair. “And I won't stand to watch you place the fate of our lands in the hands of a traitor, let alone a woman.”

A series of snarls sounded as claws of all kinds shot out. Tamlin’s hands shook as he gripped the tables edge, Tarquin’s scraped at his chair, and Rhys’s tapped with threatening impatience.

“Your mind betrays you, Beron,” Feyre spoke coldly, a cruel smile at play on her lips. “Because despite countless centuries in this world, you and your seven sons couldn't hope to accomplish as much as this female has in just a few years. You’re embarrassed. You feel she emasculates you.”

You didn't have a moment to gawk before Beron launched at you, his fist in your hair as he ripped you backwards in your chair. Droplets of his disgusting spit landing their mark as he snarled down at you. “You mark my words you sly bitch. You may have everyone wrapped around you finger, but step one foot in my court and I’ll–”

Guards had pulled Beron from you before he could finish his sentence. They hardly had to escort him as he shook their grip, storming from the room and slamming the doors behind him.

With red cheeks and a slight shake of your hands, you took Tarquins offer to help you stand.

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly.

You offered a single nod, too stunned to know truly. Was this how the High Lords settled business?

You straightened your skirts and took your seat once again.

“I do hate it when he gets like that,” Tarquin said more loudly, feigning a bored sigh and hiding a comforting hand on your thigh beneath the table.

“For your knowledge Y/N, there are rules that we must not to lay hands on another High Lord or Lady, not without consequence. I suppose that’s why he launched at you,” Thesan explained, willing a glass of water in front of you and giving you a sorry smile.

You took a shaky sip, barely having a moment to register the silent exchange between Tamlin, Feyre and Rhys. Whatever their stern expressions meant, you knew Beron was in deep, deep shit.

The rest of the meeting went smoothly – you convinced Thesan and Kallias to consider your proposal, and agreed to meet with them in future after they took some time to study your plans in more detail. In total you had four courts agree, two remained uncertain, and one definite no. It was overwhelming result, and you were riddled with both excitement and anxiousness at the thought of expanding your mission to not just one, but three new courts.

As the meeting adjourned, you found yourself thinking of Eris, and couldn't help but feel empathetic. You may have an unwelcome bond binding you to the two males who broke your heart, but at least your future wasn't dictated by someone as hideous as Beron. Eris would never be that free.

You spent your evening writing to the other volunteers and your uncle, and preparing plans and strategies to begin work in Summer. It would be beneficial to start there, to have more experienced healers on board.

There was a soft rap at your door, and Feyre’s blossom-like scent floated through the gaps.

Quill now mid-air, your heart fastened with momentary worry. But you took a breath - it was just a conversation, you could grant her that. After all, there were many more meetings with her and Rhys to come if you hoped to expand to the Nigh Court successfully. You'd also likely need to return to the Night Court yourself…

Stopping your spiral of thoughts, you cleared your throat. “Come in,” you called, placing your quill down and turning in your seat.

“I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“No no. Please, come in,” you gestured.

She strode with confidence, dark drapes of her dress flowing behind as they sparkled like the Velarian sky you hadn't realised you longed for. “I won't stay long, I just wanted to tell you that you were incredible today.” Those grey eyes pinned you with sincerity, before fluttering with a sideways glance. “And perhaps I’m also here to see how you’re fairing after the meeting. I’m sorry, I didn't think Beron…"

You huffed humorously, your head cocking down as you let out sound of exasperation. “Gods, he truly is as awful as they say.”

“Yes,” Feyre said with a stifled grin, her head shaking. “He really is.”

“Thank you, for defending me. Your response to him… it was–"

“Too much, probably.”

“Insidiously epic.” You were grinning.

Feyre laughed now, swinging one leg over the other before fingering a nearby trinket. “You know I can't resist the opportunity to toy with a male like that.”

You matched her smile, warmed by the mischievous look. The exchange was genuine and comfortable, fun even – exactly how your friendship had been for so many years.

“Thank you for coming to see me, Feyre.”

Feyre’s eyes softened, a small but sad smile finding her lips. “Of course.”

You looked at your hands then, fidgeting with them in your lap. You had to ask, you just had to.

“How are they?”

Feyre didn't falter. “Well enough. Cassian has been training a new generation of Illyrians to regrow our army, and Azriel has been busy with his work in Hybern.”

Your eyes were distant as you thought about them, separated by work. Azriel was still undertaking missions in Hybern? Was there truly more secrets to unravel there? Gods, the thought alone made you wince in pain, that whole damned continent a waking reminder of Meryl and everything you had lost. You knew Azriel would be tortured by the same cycle of thoughts on those lands.

“They work hard,” you offered with pulled brows, not really knowing what else to say.

“Just like someone else I know.” Feyre’s pained smile soft yet full of suggestion. She might as well have said it – they’re not the only ones burying their pain in work. You supposed she was right, you had set a stellar example at that.

“But they’re doing better, really,” she added, resuming natural movement and surrendering you from her gaze. “They’re healthier, and they look after one another.”

Your lips pulled into a small smile. “I’m glad.” And you meant it.

Feyre had matured over the past year – you could see it in her poise, hear it in her voice. It was a nice thing to see, to watch a fellow immortal grow in such ways.

“I will leave you to your planning.” She stood then, her incredible dress sweeping the floor once more.

Pausing by the doorway, Feyre turned to you. “Rhys and I are so honoured to have your work come to our court, even with the challenges to be faced with the Council. You should be proud, Y/N. We certainly are.”

You nodded, your lips pulling in a smile that twitched, and you swallowed the lump in your throat. “Thank you. I’ll send a letter to meet soon, and we can discuss plans then.”

“We look forward to it.” Feyre’s smile was warm and true.

“As do I.” And so was your own.

————

“Are you sure you wouldn't like to wait a few more days? We could journey back together.”

You rolled your eyes, securing your bag to Podie as Tamlin fussed behind you, tightening the knots.

“I must get back and help the team start the expansion. I don't have a few days to spare.”

“I know, I just… worry for you.”

You snorted then, hauling yourself to your horse. “I journeyed here myself, you know.”

Tamlin sighed, reaching to stroke Podie’s mane. “I know. I just, I’m not sure, I have a feeling–“

“You’re fussing.”

“No, I have a feeling.”

“A feeling of fussing?”

Tamlin pinched his nose then. “I don't know why I try,” he muttered.

You grinned. “I’ll see you in two weeks time, Tam.” With a gentle nudge to Podie’s sides, you started the long journey home.

Never mind that Tamlin had found you shortly after Feyre left your room last night. Never mind that he searched you over for any signs of injury that Beron might have left, or that he distracted you jokes and conversation and stiff drink on your balcony that lead to welcomed sleep. You would certainly not think about the way his deep hushed voice soothed you until your eyes closed, or that he knew exactly how to stroke your hair as he comforted you after the things Beron had said, long after you had stopped responding.

When you had woken he was gone, so this time apart would serve you well to clear your head and re-establish those murky lines of love and friendship, desire and lust.

“Take safe routes,” he called out, waving you off as the castle of Dawn Court disappeared behind the trees.

You forced yourself not to look back.

————

The journey from Dawn to Spring would take six days of travel. With no ability to winnow or fly, it was a pace you were not accustomed to.

But you would bare it with higher spirits than ever, because you got what you came for, what you’d wanted your entire life. You were making the world a better place, and only just getting started.

Forgoing the coastal scenery you had indulged in on your journey up, you chose a route close to the inner border with Autumn, avoiding the congestion of the capital and heading through the most direct route. By your third morning you had already reached Summer, forgoing rest and carving your journey time to start your eager plans once home.

As the sun began to set that evening, Podie began fussing with fatigue.

“I know boy, I know,” you soothed, patting at his neck. “We’re almost there.”

And sure enough, the bustle of the town you had marked on your map sounded in the distance, smoke trails rising above the tree tops as signs of life revealed themselves. You had marked this town for its inn, where both you and Podie could rest properly for the night.

But rest would have to wait, as your ears pricked at a young voice. Turning, you saw wild auburn hair on a thin and ashy body, large eyes pleading to whoever walked past.

“Please, ma’am, sir, someone help!”

But the other fae continued to look past her, offering mumbled apologies and averting their gaze. Disheartened, you tutted under your breath. The child was from Autumn, that much was clear, and you knew the other fae ignored her for it. This was exactly the kind of mentality you were trying to amend.

Having just secured Podie’s reigns at the stables next to the inn, you wiped your hands on your pants, approaching the girl. “What’s wrong youngling?”

The little girl all but crumpled. “Please, my mother, she-she can’t, I don’t-"

Crouching down, you soothed the young girl with a hand on each of her shoulders. “Is she unwell?”

Dirty hands rubbed the tears spilling from her eyes, and a nod was all she could offer.

Your eyes flicked to your satchel still strung on Podie. There were vessels of Geranium in there, samples you had shown to the High Lords.

“Can she walk?”

The little girl trembled, locks bouncing as she shook her head. Gods, those locks, so similar to Meryl's…

A fresh batch of tears poured from her eyes then, as she pointed behind her. “There are no healers in our town. I didn't know where to go!”

“It’ll be alright, I have some medicine in my bag. Can you take me to her?”

She girl’s lip quivered. “But it’s over the border,” she whispered.

You gave her a sorry smile. “I thought as much. Never mind, let me grab my bag, and you lead the way.”

Fuck Beron – fuck his senseless borders and militant court. Someone was in need of healing, so you would help them, plain and simple.

The girl was still thanking you by the time you returned with your satchel. You hoped you had enough Geranium to heal her mother to to a capacity until a trained healer could see to her.

The young thing all but sprinted, and you maintained a steady jog to the Autumn border. Green blended with red here, the breeze already cooler as dried leaves danced with live ones.

“My town is down this trail,” she pointed to a winding path. “It’s not far.”

You nodded, taking your first step in Autumn without a second thought. And when you reached the winding path, where the trees now hid the backs of Summer Court and the life that called there, the girl stopped in her path, turning with an eery slowness.

You jumped back at the white film that now filled her eyes, her mouth downturned and sad. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her head lolling sideways.

You hadn’t a moment to process the horror of it before hands pinned your arms and smothered your mouth.

Fumes swarmed your senses, burning your nose and throat before you were overcome with poisonous haze, your cry swallowed in cloth as the world turned black.

————

Rhysand handed the last of his bags to the door man, giving his guest room at Dawn one final sweep.

Feyre had left a few days earlier to be with Nyx, but many of the High Lords had stayed to use the mutual meeting grounds and have much needed discussions after the war. But his business was done and he would finally return home, his heart aching for Velaris.

Even his brothers would be there this time, having returned from their own missions. He was eager to unwind and be surrounded by the laughter and company of his family together again. Well, almost all of them.

Tamlin’s scent pricked his nose, and Rhys resisted the urge to roll his eyes. With the complicated and bloody history they shared, forcing himself to be civil with Tamlin would always draining, and right now he just wanted to get home.

Night magic flung the doors open, revealing the distraught High Lord, one hand raised to knock, the other clutching a letter.

“Whatever can I do you for, Tamlin?” Rhys mused, before finally turning to face him. With one look at his expression, he flicked his eyes to the letter in Tamlin's hand, his stomach sinking immediately.

“What’s happened?” Rhys asked quickly.

“Y/N – she was due back in Spring three days ago. Her uncle has written to say she hasn't come home.”

Rhys could feel the violet draining from his eyes. “Perhaps she took a few more days to herself?”

“She wouldn't do that.” Tamlin said firmly.

Rhys nodded, his lips pressing into a tight line as worry brewed even further. He was right.

“There’s more.”

Rhys quirked his brow.

“Podie was found stranded at an inn in Summer, east of the capital.”

“Podie? Who-"

“Her horse Rhysand! They found her damned horse, left there for days!”

Rhys swallowed, his mind narrowing to a steely focus – the way it did before battle.

“You said east?”

Tamlin swallowed thickly, a knowing worry pulling at his features as he nodded. “Just shy of the border.”

Black flooded the little violet left in Rhys’s eyes. “Fuck.”

Tamlin stalked towards Rhys, forcing the letter into his hand. “Call for her mates, immediately.”

But Rhys already was, his mind screaming out to his brothers, to Feyre, to anyone who could find her first.

“Is it done?” Tamlin asked, green eyes desperately scanning the lucid male in front of him.

Rhys was quiet for a moment, before sucking in a sharp sudden breath. He faltered then, grasping the bed post with a wince as his magic recoiled within.

Because somewhere in Velaris, across the mountains and seas and stretch of land the separated y/n from her mates, a panic so deep and rage so violent consumed any magic in reach, even the most powerful High Lords.

Rhys wasn't there to witness Cassian and Azriel’s siphons shattering, to see the way red and blue power - now freed from their bounds - instead consumed them, filling their veins and pulsing against muscle.

Rhys nodded once at Tamlin, confirming what they both knew.

There would be a war to retrieve Y/N alive. And Beron was as good as dead.

————

Beron took a leather parcel from the last of his guards, before ushering him from your cell.

You had been here for days – or so you thought. Time was a difficult thing to grasp in your haze, and there was no light here. It was quite too, the only sound of dripping dampness, and the occasional screams and pleas from a women. That voice was so far away, you weren’t certain it was real, or that it wasn't your own.

Beron had visited you the day you were taken, his dark eyes glowing with hideous intent at the sight of you bound in his dungeon. He hadn’t said much, only promising with sickening glee that he’d be back soon.

You half expected him to beat you, to hurt and punish you for humiliating him at the High lords meeting. Gods, you even anticipated death. But the High Lord kept you hydrated and healthy enough, all be it drugged and weak. Which meant a different fate awaited you, perhaps one worse than you could imagine.

You cursed at the sight of the weapon he unfurled from the leather pouch. It was a rapier of kinds – too large to be a knife, too small to be an ordinary sword. But it was the ungodly glow of the thing - the churning ribbons of deadly silver turning in on itself - that terrified you most.

“What is that?” you panted, your eyes wide as Beron’s grin grew.

“You have no idea the lengths I’ve gone to find such a tool, Y/N.” He angled it this way and that, eyes glowing with admiration as silver danced in them. “The terrible things I had to do to have this made, to even hold it in my bare hands.”

It was pointless to press further into the metal slab you were bound to, cuffs digging at your ankles and wrists as you reopened the same wounds you had fought against for days.

Beron was drawing closer, the rest of the room darkening as the rapier glowed so bright, commanding your attention. The air grew colder, as if those lethal ribbons were consuming the warmth for itself.

“I think we’re alike, you and I.” Beron eyed you with a sickly smile before he began to pace, moving his sword with him.

Your chest heaved with panic, your eyes trailing him as you begged for anyone to find you. Your mates, that tether, perhaps they would hear you? But the bond had weakened since left unacknowledged, and as you fished for it within you could feel how it had thinned.

“I don't like having my things taken from me, Y/N. And I’m certain you don't either. That’s why you were alone, wasn’t it? Without your mates, hm? They took something of yours, and you didn't like it one bit.”

Your eyes snapped to Beron the moment he mentioned them. Fuck. Fuck. Eris, that kniving worm, had told him exactly what he needed to know.

“I’ve had something of mine taken from me over and over again for almost a century. The one thing that was promised to me – sworn to me by oath, bound to me by a ring.”

What nonsense was he spitting? Unless… oh gods.

“You see there’s a particular High Lord who seems to think he can help himself to what is mine. And apparently, my whore of a wife agrees.”

The Lady of Autumn. What Feyre had shared with you about Lucien, about his mother and Helion – it was all true. And Beron knew.

You gulped, your stomach churning as you forced your voice past the strain in your throat. “What in gods name does that have to do with me, you twisted senseless fuck.”

Fear seeped from you, and you knew he could scent it.

Beron chuckled, shaking his head before crazed eyes found yours. “Do you know what my wife said to me when I confronted her, Y/N? Do you know what she claimed, what she threw in my face, after centuries of marriage, of sharing my home and my court and six fucking sons?”

You were wise enough not to answer.

Beron shifted, easing back into lethal calm. “She tells me of a bond. Bound by the cauldron, she claims. She says that she’s sorry, to please not hurt her, to please not hurt him. And then she begs me to let her go.”

Bile rose to your throat. “What have you done to her?” you gritted, fighting against your cuffs once more. “Have you- did you-”

“Kill her?” Beron finished, a smirk pulling at his lips. “Of course not. I am no monster.” He paused then, halting his pace. “I love her.”

It was almost convincing.

“But so began my journey, sweet Y/N, to help my dear wife from her delusions. I keep her here, a few cells over. She’s very eager to receive her treatment and rejoin the throne again as my loyal wife.”

You had to blink through your nausea. The begging, those screams – they were real. It was her.

“By no means was it an easy task to find a tool like this – something so magnificent, crafted straight from death itself. But I do it for her.”

Your stomach dropped. He had harnessed death itself? This was beyond insidious - Beron had been driven insane by his jealousy.

Beron’s eyes flicked from the weapon to you, noting the way you stiffened.

“Ah yes, death. Not an easy thing to befriend, certainly not an easy thing to yield. It took a life to harness it’s power, life from my very own family.”

Beron’s words were becoming harder to hear as your heart pounded in your ears. And then it clicked, and you could have sworn that time stood still as his words played in your head. He had mentioned six sons, not seven.

You had not known a fear like the one you felt now, a sickening tremble overtaking as you knew what he would say next.

“Please,” you begged, twisting in your restraints. “Please! Don't say it!”

“Although I suppose Lucien wasn't truly my family, not really.”

A scream ripped from you, your eyes clenched shut as your mind reeled at the horror. Lucien – Tamlin’s friend, Feyre’s friend, your friend too. Killed as a sacrifice for this insidious narcissist he had thought was his father.

“Oh none of that, Y/N. You act as if I enjoyed it. Lucien was my son in many ways. But a power this great,” he said, casting the sword before his eyes. “Well, it demands an equally great sacrifice.”

Anguished sobs escaped you, tear tracks gleaming from the glow of death before you.

“How could you?” you screamed, writhing against your chains. “He trusted you!”

Beron’s eyes darkened. “It’s as I said,” he growled. “I will not have my things taken from me. For decades I was humiliated and lied to while she slinked from MY COURT to have an affair with another High Lord. Years spent playing me a fool, lying to my face and CLAIMING a SON as my OWN!”

You trembled at the hate in Beron’s voice, walls rumbling as he beheld other-worldly power from the weapon in his hand. You knew his words had hit their mark, and faint wails could be heard outside your cell. The Lady of Autumn could hear it all – Beron was punishing her, forcing her to listen.

He was quiet then, watching you fail to stifle your own sobs.

He moved closer, raising a hand to stroke at your hair. “Shh, shh. Now now, dear Y/N. I may hate you, but I’m a man of reason. I don't believe in spilt blood.”

You jerked under his touch, squeezing your eyes shut and begging to the Mother to not let you die at the hands of this deranged murderer.

“I haven't bought you here to kill you. You’re valuable to me, you see.”

You forced your eyes open.

“I merely want to break your bond.”

There was a ringing in your ears as a panic burst through your veins so quickly you felt you would simply combust.

“And I suppose I don't care should you survive this or not.” Beron said with a shrug, before pointing that ungodly sword at your heart, and a bloodcurdling scream ripped from your chest.

--------

Part 7>>>

A/N: Hi. Hiiiii. Are you... are you ok? Hoping Lucien's death didn't hurt too bad. ❤️ Thank you always for your patience on this chapter, I so hope you liked it (or at least made you feel the feels). I cannot wait to explore feral Cass and Az, and probably Rhys and Feyre and Tamlin too lol Drop a comment or an ask any time, I looooooove hearing your thoughts on the fic, it makes my day each and every time <3 Thank you, and I love you. MWA! ❤️

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lambentplume · 9 months

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Maui Fires & How to Support Relief Efforts

(Posted on 8/10/23) Hi, I'm Jae and my family is from Lāhainā. I watched my hometown burn down this week. The fires caused immeasurable loss in my community so I'd like to spread awareness of the situation as well as provide links to support local organizations directly assisting survivors. I'm pretty sure most of my following is Not local so I'm writing with intent to inform people outside the situation, but if you're reading this and happen to have family in the affected area that isn't accounted for, message me and I can send you the links to the missing persons tracking docs + more localized info!! If you'd like to skip down to how to help and follow community organizations, scroll to the bottom of the post after the image.

Earlier this week, Hurricane Dora passed south of the Hawaiian Islands, bringing strong wind gusts that caused property damage across the islands. On Tuesday August 8, high winds caused sparks to fly in the middle of Lāhainā town, knocking out power lines and immediately igniting drought-ridden grasses. The fire spread quickly and destroyed the entire center of town, the harbor, and multiple neighborhoods including Hawaiian Homes (housing specifically for Native Hawaiians), parts of Lahainaluna, basically all of Front Street, and low-income housing units. There is only one public road in and out of town, and after a very hectic evacuation period that road has been mostly closed off except to emergency responders, thus it is extremely difficult for anyone to leave town to get help. The nearest hospital is 20 miles away in Wailuku, and most grocery stores in town have burnt down.

As of Thursday, August 10, over 1,000 acres have been burned and 271 structures (including homes, schools, and other community gathering places) have been destroyed. Cell service is still extremely spotty, many of the surrounding neighborhoods deemed safe for evacuees are still without utilities. There are currently confirmed 53 deaths but that number is expected to increase as search-and-rescue efforts continue. Countless families have been displaced and many have lost the homes they lived in for generations. Places of deep historical significance have been reduced to ash, including the gravesites of Hawaiian royalty, the old Lāhainā courthouse where items of cultural significance were stored, and Na ‘Aikane o Maui Cultural Center. To add further context: Lāhainā has a population of about 13,000 residents. EVERYONE I know has been impacted in some way--at best forced to evacuate, at worst their house was burnt to the foundation, they cannot find a loved one, etc. I'm still trying to track down family members and it's been over two days. My neighbors down the street had homes last week and now many don't have ANYTHING. The hotels are taking in residents (tourists are also being STRONGLY urged to leave so that locals can recover). Without open access to the rest of the island, Lāhainā residents are now dependent on whatever people had in their homes already as well as disaster relief efforts coming in, but it's been difficult to organize and mobilize due to the location + conditions. People who have made it out are in shelters where no blankets or medicine were provided. Friends and acquaintances from neighbor islands are preparing aid to send over. Community response has been incredible, but the toll on the town has been immeasurable. My parents were desperately walking through town yesterday, my mom sounded absolutely hollow talking about it on the phone with me. It's horrifying. Below is a satellite map with data from the NASA Fire Information for Resource Management System showing the impacted areas from the past week; all of the red blotches were on fire at some point in the last three days.

Here are ways you can help:

If you have the means to donate:

Here are three donation sites verified by Maui Rapid Response, which also lists FAQs for people who are wondering about next steps.

Hawaiʻi Community Foundation - Maui Strong Fund accepts international credit cards. Maui United Way

Maui Mutual Aid Non-monetary ways to support:

If you know anyone who is planning to travel to ANY Hawaiian island, not just Maui, tell them to cancel their trip. Resources are extremely limited as is. Advocate for climate change mitigation efforts locally, wherever that is for you. The fire was exacerbated by drought conditions that have worsened due to climate change.

Lastly, remember that these are people's HOMES that burned, and Native Hawaiian cultural artifacts that have been lost. Stop thinking of Hawaiʻi (or any "tourist destination" location, really) as an "escape" or a "paradise." If that's the only way you recognized my home... I'm glad I got your attention somehow, but I would ask that you challenge that perspective and prioritize local and native voices. For transparency, I don't currently live in Lāhainā, I've been following efforts from Honolulu. My parents and brother have been updating me and I've been following friends and family who are doing immediate response work. I'm doing my best to find reliable and current sources, but if I need to update something, please let me know. If you're going to try to convince me that tourism is necessary for our recovery, news flash ***IT'S NOT***!

Thanks for reading.

#please feel free to reblog! i don't know how tagging works here anymore!#maui fires #officially reported death count increased WHILE I WAS WRITING THE POST btw. this is bonkers.#if you want to start tourism discourse in my inbox you have to donate the cost of a plane ticket and send a screenshot to me #i have sources at the ready btw. i'd say don't try me but i mean my hometown could use a couple hundred bucks!!

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fatehbaz · 2 years

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Why should low-carbon projects be permitted to destroy legendary Native American sacred sites? Yakama elders witnessed the construction of The Dalles Dam that flooded and silenced Celilo Falls on the Columbia River. Since time immemorial, Celilo Falls was one of history’s great marketplaces. Multiple tribes had permanent villages near the falls. Thousands of people gathered annually to trade, feast, and participate in games and religious ceremonies over millennia. During spring, this natural monument surged up to 10 times the amount of water that passes over Niagara Falls today.

What must Indigenous people continue to sacrifice for energy development? The Seattle Times editorial board recently announced support for the Goldendale pumped-storage hydroelectric project to benefit the state’s clean-energy portfolio [“Goldendale energy project can help meet state’s clean-energy needs,” Sept. 2, Opinion]. The board constructed an alternate reality where tribal nations could find common ground with the developer and resolve objections to project construction. The board wrote, “A compromise that would allow the project to go forward while respecting tribal concerns would be a benefit for all.” The board ignores the realities of Native American history and the history of this project, which the Confederated Tribes and Bands of Yakama Nation (Yakama Nation) have objected to from the initial development proposal at this site.

The project site is situated on Pushpum — a sacred site to the Yakama Nation, a place where there is an abundance of traditional foods and medicines. The developer’s footprint proposes excavation and trenching over identified Indigenous Traditional Cultural Properties, historic and archaeological resources and access to exercise ceremonial practices and treaty-gathering rights.

Notably, the project site covers the ancestral village site of the Willa-witz-pum Band and the Yakama fishing site called As’num, where Yakama tribal fishermen continue to practice their treaty-fishing rights.

Yakama Nation opposes the development. The developer proposes two, approximately 60-acre reservoirs and associated energy infrastructure within the Columbia Hills near the John Day Dam and an existing wind turbine complex. The majority of the nearly 700 acre site is undeveloped; the lower reservoir would be located on a portion of the former Columbia Gorge Aluminum smelter site. The tribe’s treaty-reserved right to exercise gathering, fishing, ceremony and passing of traditions in the area of the proposed project has existed since time immemorial. The tribe studied mitigation; it is impossible at this site.

Columbia Riverkeeper, and more than a dozen other nonprofits, stand in solidarity with Yakama Nation and oppose the development: The climate crisis does not absolve our moral and ethical responsibilities. Both tribal nations and environmental organizations have worked tirelessly to stop fossil fuel developments and secure monumental climate legislation in the Pacific Northwest. But we refuse to support a sacrifice zone to destroy Native American cultural and sacred sites in the name of combating climate change.

Environmental justice is on the line with the pumped-storage development. Seventeen tribal leaders sent a letter to Gov. Jay Inslee, urging him to reject development permits. The leaders explained, “Our ancestors signed Treaties with the United States, often under threat of violence and death, in exchange for our ancestral lands and sacred places. Through these treaties, we retain the rights to practice and live in our traditional ways in these places. Yet, the promises made by the government have been broken time and time again.”

Earlier this year, the Washington State Office of Equity, located within the governor’s office, released the state’s inaugural five-year Washington State Pro-Equity Anti-Racism Plan & Playbook. Gov. Inslee stated, “We will no longer replicate and reinforce systems, processes and behaviors that lead to inequities and disparities among various communities.” Now is the time to apply the playbook to climate change and energy siting.

There is no room for compromise. The choice is stark: Continue to advance our nation’s and state’s history of sacrificing Indigenous resources through broken promises, or work with tribes committed to tackling the climate crisis while, at the same time, protecting the last remaining sacred sites.

---

Text by: Jeremy Takala and Lauren Goldberg. “Stop sacrificing Indigenous sacred sites in the name of climate change.” The Seattle Times. 25 September 2022.

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macgyvermedical · 1 year

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Hi hope you’re doing well!

in The Last of Us episode 5, Joel gets stabbed in the gut and immediately pulls the blade out.

Obviously if you get stabbed, the best thing to is leave the weapon in place and get to a hospital immediately, but I’ve heard some people argue that in this circumstance (zombie apocalypse, with enemies pursuing them) that Joel did the right thing, since there was no hospital/surgeon he could go to anyway, and the knife would get in his way if he needed to fight or ride on a horse.

I was wondering what your thoughts on this were because I’ve been thinking about it a lot haha. I don’t think his survival in the show after that stab wound was particularly realistic but, what’s typically the best course of action in such a low resource environment? (I understand you can’t give medical advice obviously)

anyway thanks for your time and have a good day!

The reason you're leaving an impaled object in is because you want to take it out in as controlled an environment as possible.

The most controlled environment, in the case of a gut stabbing, would be a fully staffed operating room with blood products standing by, IV antibiotics hanging, and anesthesia/paralytic agents on board.

The reason for this is that there are a lot of things in the abdomen that can cause severe problems when stabbed. If i'm interpreting the gifsets correctly the stab was in the upper right part of his abdomen. It doesn't look quite high up enough to have hit his liver, but that would be a concern depending on the direction and length of the impaling object. Livers bleed a LOT when stabbed. And pulling a blade out generally does more damage, as well as preventing that blade from putting any pressure directly on the source of the bleeding.

Not only that, but Joel's intestines are probably in the way of the blade as well- they're really packed in there, and it's exceedingly difficult to stab someone without hitting intestine. The intestine, of course, is full of poop. And the sac holding the intestine is otherwise sterile, so if you spill poop into that sac you generally cause a massive, massive infection called peritonitis (the same thing you can die of if your appendix ruptures). Pulling the knife out here would spread the poop around a little more, and again possibly done more damage to the intestine, which also needs to be intact to later digest food.

There is also an aorta, which would have caused Joel's death pretty immediately if stabbed, and some other smaller vessels that he probably could have survived getting severed, assuming they did not serve something he needed later, like a stretch of intestine.

Now, as you mentioned, Joel will never have access to a controlled operating room with trained staff. So while he might be making things worse by pulling out the blade, he know's he's either definitely going to die now because he can't fight/escape or probably die later because of damage that really has already been done, so he chooses the latter, which still gives him the best chance of survival.

Now, his absolute best-luck scenario here is something like this account of low-resource surgery taken from Improvised Medicine by Kenneth V Iserson:

Along with this description of a low-resource abdominal surgery, being sure to flush as much as possible of the poop out of the abdominal cavity with saline as possible- called peritoneal lavage- can help decrease the bacterial load in the abdomen and decrease the risk of sepsis.

Probably the second-best thing he could hope for would be something like the attempt to save Malachai in Alas, Babylon by Pat Frank (fictional prep for an abdominal trauma surgery, but very well described):

[Dan] crawled out and said, "He's in shock and shouldn’t be moved and ought to have a transfusion. But we have to move him if I'm to do anything at all. On what?"

There was a discarded door in the toolhouse. They moved him on that.

They laid Malachai on the billiard table in the gameroom and then massed lamps and candles so that Dan would have light. Dan said, "I have to go into him. Massive internal hemorrhage. I've got to tie it off or there’s no chance at all. How? With what?"

"My hunting knife, the one I shave with? It's sharp as a razor, almost."

"No, Too big, too thick. How about steak knives?"

"Sure, steak knives." The short-bladed steak knives even looked like lancets. The Judge and Randy's mother had bought the set in Denmark on their summer in Europe in 'fifty-four. They were the finest and sharpest steak knives Randy had ever used. He found them in the silver chest and called, "How many?"

"T’wo will do."

From the dining room Helen called, "I've put on water to boil-a big pot." The dinner fire had been going and Helen had piled on fat wood so it roared and Dan would soon have the means of sterilizing his instruments. Randy put them into the pot to boil. After that, at Dan’s direction he put in his fine-nosed fishing pliers. Florence Wechek ran across the road for darning needles. Lib found metal hair clips that would clamp an artery. Randy's six-pound nylon line off the spinning reel would have to do for sutures.

There was enough soap to cleanse Dan's hands. Dan went into the dining room, fretting, waiting for the pot and his instruments to boil. It was hopeless, he knew. In spite of everything they might do sepsis was almost inevitable, but now it was the shock and the hemorrhage he couldn’t lick. He wondered whether it would be possible to rig up a saline solution transfusion. They had the ingredients, salt and water and fire; and somewhere, certainly, rubber tubing. He would not give up Malachai. He wanted to save Malachai, capable, quiet, and strong, more than he had ever wanted to save anybody in his years as a physician. So many people died for nothing. Malachai was dying for something.

In the gameroom Helen was at work, quick and competent. She had found their last bottle of Scotch, except what might remain in Randy's decanter upstairs, and was cleansing the wound with it. Randy and Lib stood beside her. The pool of blood in the round hole ebbed and did not rise again. The water was boiling in the big iron pot when Randy walked into the dining room and touched Dan's shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm afraid it's all over."

Third best is probably to pack the wound, since sewing or otherwise closing the wound would trap everything inside. Hopefully there's not a ton of damage to the intestines (a couple of very small nicks might scar back together without needing surgery if he was really lucky).

#whump reference #writing reference #abdominal surgery #low resource medicine

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sunlightmurdock · 3 months

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okay apocalypse dbf!jake will not let me go again so- I need the confession 🙏 I need the tear-stained first kiss after an attack, with too much adrenaline and too little care for the inappropriate age gap

EEK me either me either me either ! I’m so insane about him rn

And I feel like this particular attack would be a big one. Resources are running low and Jake won’t leave you up on that mountain by yourself, so he has no choice but to bring you with him. He has done what he can, preparing you for this.

It scares you, even when it’s just all pretend with him. He’s not as kind when he’s training you. Even as you’re crying and telling him to stop it, that you don’t want to, he’s yelling and insisting that you aim straight and breathe — that these things won’t stop no matter how much you cry, or scream, or beg.

He doesn’t mean to be cruel. It would be far more cruel to leave you unprepared, to let something happen to you.

This is a low stakes run, but you can feel that he’s unhappy having you here. It’s itching at you that maybe it’s because you couldn’t hit that target last time. He had tied a thick tree branch to a length of rope, pushed hard, and let it swing. Your first moving target. Not so much as a chip in the wood. You’ve got a pretty big knife, one that could tear muscle from bone— he won’t give you a gun.

You know he’s focused on protecting you, it’s an awful feeling to think that you may not be able to do the same for him, especially after all he has done for you so far.

It’s a gas station, back off of the road, early enough on that it hasn’t yet been completely raided. Heavy metal shutters cover the windows, but Jake makes quick work of the padlocks on the back door. The power has all gone out by now, it’s just the light from your flashlights to guide the way. Jake is two paces ahead, close enough to jump back and pull you behind him if he needs.

It’s eerily quiet. You’re stuck to him like a shadow as he surveys for danger, and ultimately decides that it’s okay.

Keep away from the doors and windows, stay where I can see you. Dejected and feeling more uselessly childish than you have in a long time, you sweep the shelves and take what you can while Jake does the same. Continually, he checks over top of the shelves to see if he can see the top of your head.

It’s going too well, it tricks you both into thinking that this is going to be easy. You’re focused, on your knees and rummaging through the medicines to take everything you could need. You don’t even notice the noise that you’re making. Jake doesn’t mind the rummaging sounds, it means he can hear where you are without needing to watch.

But then, so can the employee who took such care to fortify this place before he took swallowed back a cocktail and pills the second that he saw his home in flames and his undead mother staggering around on the news footage. He made himself comfortable before he passed. His shoes and his jacket are in the back room. His socks are almost silent against the linoleum as he staggers around the corner.

He’s tall, and skinny, and hadn’t hurt anyone in his entire life. But he’s close enough by the time you spot him that his height gives you no room to stand up. His eyes are wide and gorging, the sockets sullen and lifeless. You haven’t seen one of them so clean before, part of him still looks human. His lips are pulled back, animal, growling weakly as he reaches for you and tumbles forwards.

Jake hears the scream and he swears that he’s going to be too late. Even just across the floor of the gas station — it takes seconds for one of those things to get their jaws around you. He’s sick to his stomach, his gun pulled and the safety off, uncaring about if the sound draws attention for miles around.

He rounds the corner and spots the puddle of dark, thick blood first. His heart sinks to his stomach, until he realises that it isn’t yours. You push the corpse back, off of you. Your knife is plunged through the socket of its eye, it’s dead. You take one look at Jake, and crumble, tears pouring from your eyes as you stare at your blood soaked hands.

“Shh, I’m here. Shh, shh, shh. You’re okay,” Jake whispers, sinking to his knees and pulling you off of the floor, cradling you in his arms as he kisses the top of your head. “It’s alright, I’m right here. You’re safe, you’re okay.”

“I didn’t— I didn’t see it— it was —“

“I know, sweet girl,” Jake whispers, rubbing soothingly at your back. He presses his lips together and kisses softly at your temple. “You did so good. You did it. You’re alright now.”

Again, Jake kisses your temple softly, hugging you closer. His weight and his smell, his strong arms wrapped around you. All of it almost makes you forget where you are. Blinking back any more tears, you turn your head as he kisses at your temple again. This time, you’re looking at him as he pulls back.

Tears soaking your lashes and your cheeks, staring up at him. Jake’s throat feels thick, his mouth suddenly dry as your fingers press into his arms. You are okay, you did it. He’s here. You sit forwards first, and Jake’s met with the exact thing that he has been trying to stop himself from thinking about for these past few weeks. Your lips are just as soft as they look, and your hands pawing at his arms make him melt into you.

Before all of this, Jake tried so hard to fight it. You’re so much younger. Your father would have never approved. Now, he supposes — it doesn’t matter. What matters, is keeping you safe, and he’s so glad that you’re safe.

His hand grabs firmly at the nape of your neck as he presses closer, deepening his hold on you, kissing you firmly.

#dbf!jake #apocalypse dilf jake #dads best friend Jake #jake Seresin #jake hangman Seresin #jake Seresin x reader

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palebonedry · 5 months

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Shadow of the Forgotten

My submission for @aimportantdragoncollector ‘s Three Weeks of Triholders, (Although this piece is featuring Duoholders 😅)

I created an au based around a Nyavka Yoichi and a woodsman Second . .

Nyavka are a type of Mavka, a spirit in Ukrainian folklore.

One prominent feature is that Nyavka have no back so you can see their spine . . . They often live in bodies of water like rivers or lakes in the forest (my mother for instance first told me about them as a way of warning me away from a nearby river lol). Some interpretations have them leading men to their doom and drowning them, while other interpretations have them being more benevolent caretakers of the forest although these two are not mutually exclusive!

While I'm no writer and am still coming up with ideas I believe this au would go something like this:

Yoichi and AFO were born in a mountain village surrounded by forests and bordered by a fierce river The village believed the twins to be unlucky due to their odd striking white hair and the death of their mother during their birth and they are shunned.

The two are only really allowed to stay in the village as hands to help in the fields, life is unpleasant but the two make due as they grow up. One winter when the two are around 11 or so Yoichi gets very sick. However he is refused treatment, resources are low and they village do not want to waste supplies on the weakest of the twins who would likely die before he is an adult anyways.

AFO tries to steal him medicine anyways but this goes wrong and the two are driven out of the village when he is caught. They attempt to flee across the river into the surrounding woods. Unfortunately the water is freezing and they drown.

Due to their tragic death the brothers come back as Nyavka and now dwell in the surrounding forest.

A newly undead AFO takes on a much more vindicative and aggressive role, the number of deaths caused by drowning in the nearby area skyrockets lol. Yoichi on the other hand dwells deeper in the woods and keeps to himself as much as his brother allows.

Many years later, Yoichi sees a young man with a scar across his face and striking orange hair seemingly fleeing from something. He is intrigued and decides to observe this stranger . . .

(And your standard vault escape (forest escape)) story happens from there. :) (with some more twists)

#this was very very fun #i originally was inspired by shadows of forgotten ancestors #but my ideas for this au changed drastically after the 407 leaks #so its moved very far away from that first inspiration #still I have many ideas left #and may need to draw them or ramble about them later #yoichi shigaraki #second one for all holder #ofa #three weeks of trioholders #second one for all user #art i have done

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queen-of-deans-booty · 4 months

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Out of Touch: Part Two

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~4.8k

Warnings: angst, injured!reader, fluff at the end

Request by @paarthurnax59: Hi! I hope you are doing alright! was wondering if I could do a part 2 to "Out of Touch" Where Reader realize that her and her son are in worse danger than she thought and are forced to stay at the bunker and her and Dean hunt down the demons that want Carter because he's Dean's son. Lucifer escaped and wants him as his vessel. Dean gets to see Reader in action and is impressed even tells Satan off. Reader starts to have feelings for Dean again and he nearly died protecting his family. Maybe not a happy ending but a more hopeful one where Reader gives him a second chance?

Summary: After being discharged from the hospital, you stay with your ex and his brother in their fortress of protection. Everything you do, you do for son... even if the devil himself wants him.

PART ONE

Square Filled: sam winchester (2022) for @spndeanbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

The hospital discharged you a couple of hours ago even though your wound is still fresh. They were hesitant to let you go home alone but after convincing them you wouldn’t be alone, they let you go. You didn’t lie; you’re not alone. It's just not another adult with you.

The only place you and Carter can lay low is in a motel you were able to get for cheap. This will have to suffice until you can move on your own without the fear of bleeding out. The hospital gave you a prescription for pain meds even though they aren’t doing much for you.

You’re resting on the bed when your son walks over with the blanket from the bed next to you. He drapes it over your body as best as he can before tucking you in.

“It should be me taking care of you,” you sigh tiredly.

“It’s okay, Mommy. I don’t mind.”

“Can you get me some water? I need to take my medicine.”

Carter does what he’s told without question. You hate that he’s in this position in the first place. He should be out playing and making friends and going to school. Instead, he’s stuck with you while you heal. Before dealing with the wendigo that hurt you, you tried giving Carter a childhood as normal as possible. You took him to amusement parks and aquariums, and you allowed him to get whatever toy he wanted even if you didn’t have the money for it.

“When am I gonna see Daddy again?”

The thought of Dean brings you to tears. You don’t let them fall for the sake of your son. Seeing him in the hospital brought back so many feelings that you thought you buried. He hurt you, there’s no question about it, but the reason why you were so hurt is because you still have feelings for him… you think. Will you give him a second chance? You’re not sure. You’re not even sure how you feel but you know it’s not resentment.

It’s harder now that Carter has met him. Had he not, you could have lived in the bubble you tried so hard to create.

“I don’t think being around him is a good idea, baby.”

“Why not?”

Before you have a chance to answer him, someone knocks on your motel door. Carter is about to go answer it when you stop him.

“No, let me. I got it.”

You bite back a moan of pain as you get up and approach the door. You look through the peephole and sigh at who is standing there. If he’s standing there, then that means his brother isn’t far behind. Are you ready to face him again? You open the door to let Sam in, and you go back to the bed to rest.

“What are you doing here?” you ask as he closes the door.

“I’m here to take you and Carter to the Bunker.”

“Why?” you sigh.

“Come on, you want to stay here? There are resources at the Bunker that can help you get better.” You open your mouth to protest when Sam cuts you off. “I don’t want to hear it. You’re both coming with us.”

“I didn’t even say anything.”

“I know you, Y/N. I know what you were going to say. Come on, let me help you up.”

You have no choice but to accept Sam’s help. You’re still in a lot of pain that when you move, you can feel your blood seeping through the bandages. Carter gathers what he can and follows you and Sam out to the Impala. Dean is sitting behind the wheel watching and waiting for you and his son. When he sees you limping out of the room, he faces forward and grips the steering wheel. Sam brings you to the front seat, but you point to the back with a shake of your head.

“No, backseat.”

Sam looks at his brother and does what you ask him to do, and your son climbs into the backseat with you.

“Hi, Daddy,” Carter smiles.

“Hey, buddy.”

Dean looks in the rearview mirror and sees unshed tears in your eyes. He hates himself for what he did to you. He wants to make it right if you’ll let him but he knows it’ll take a lot of time. Sam comes back with the rest of your things so that your motel room is empty. Once you’re all in, Dean takes off toward the bunker.

You’ve never seen the inside of this Bunker much less knew about it, so when Dean pulls into the garage, you’re impressed with all the cars there. Carter hops out of the car once it’s parked and runs around excitedly, and you get out with a groan.

“Carter, stay close, okay?” Sam escorts you into the kitchen with Carter and Dean behind you. “Wow, you’ve got quite the setup here. I can’t wait to see all of it when I’m feeling better.”

“That might be quicker than you think. Follow me.”

You and Carter follow Sam into the massive library where there is a man in a trenchcoat. You pull Carter into you so that he doesn’t leave your side. You have no idea who this is or what he is, and you’re not about to let your son approach him.

“This is Castiel. He’s an angel.” Sam must see the panic on your face so he quickly eases your concerns. “He’s a good angel. He’s family.”

Castiel walks over to you and places a hand on your shoulder. Suddenly, the pain in your side is gone, all your aches have magically gone away, and you feel one hundred percent again.

“Whoa. You’re good. Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” he nods.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Y/N, Dean’s--” You stop yourself short because what are you even going to say? You’re his ex-girlfriend? His baby mama? “I’m Carter’s mom.”

“Carter is Dean’s son?”

You nod twice before turning to Sam. Dean is hanging out by the entryway between the kitchen and the library. He has yet to say a word to you.

“Where can we put our things?” you ask Sam.

“Follow me.”

You and Carter leave the library so that Castiel and Dean are alone.

“She hates me,” Dean sighs. “What I did eight years ago was dickish, cowardly, and so fucking stupid. I wish I could take it all back.”

“Give it time. I have faith it’ll work out in the end.”

“Yeah, thanks, Cas,” Dean scoffs and leaves.

Sam takes you to the room in the hall where his bedroom is as opposed to the hallway where Dean’s is. The room is bare but has the opportunity to look more like yours if given love.

“Look, Carter can stay right across from you in the other room.”

“Thank you, Sam. I really appreciate it.”

“Yeah, of course.” Sam turns to leave when he pauses by the door. “You know, he really does love you.”

“Sam, please don’t,” you sigh. “I’m already tempted to leave. The only thing stopping me is Carter. He knows you two now, and I can’t do that to him. Don’t make this worse for me.”

“Sure. I’ll leave you alone then.”

Sam closes the door behind him so that you’re alone in your room. Carter is probably with Sam or Dean, and you let him bond with either one for the time being. It’ll be hard to pull him away from his dad later on, but that’s a bridge you’ll cross when you come to it. You take off the bloody gauze and change into clean clothes before picking up the notebook you carry with you everywhere.

The entire notebook is filled with pictures of you and Dean over the years of your relationship. When you two were together, he was so good to you. He made you feel like you were the only one in the world. Despite whatever he put you through, despite him kicking you out of his life, you still love him like a goddamn idiot.

Over the next week, you and Carter got used to living in the Bunker. Sure, you’re healed and are more than welcome to leave but then you’d be taking Carter from his dad and uncle. He’s gotten rather attached to both of them fairly quickly. What kind of mother would you be if you took him away now?

You’ve got the opportunity to explore the Bunker at your leisure without an eight-year-old attached to your side. This place is extremely impressive, you have to admit. It’s a bitch to clean, that’s for sure, but you’re not going to be some freeloader even if the brothers don’t think that you are. You cook, clean, and do laundry where you can so you feel like you’re doing something with your life.

It makes you feel better, so they kind of leave you alone about it.

During one of your breaks, you wander the Bunker until you come across the basement where the gun range and the dungeon are. Yes, they have a fucking dungeon which is pretty cool. There are sounds of guns going off in the gun range, so you walk inside to investigate. Dean and Carter are in with protective eye goggles and ear protection on. Carter is the one shooting a gun that looks very dangerous to begin with.

“Really, Dean?” you sigh and lean against the door frame.

Both of them stop to look at you. Dean can see the worry on your face which he eases immediately.

“It’s a BeBe gun.”

“Look, Mommy! I can shoot a gun!” Carter says happily.

“Yeah. Good job, baby.”

They go back to practice shooting while you stand there and watch. Carter is way too attached to Dean and this place. If you’re going to leave, it’s not going to be with Carter.

The next day, you and Carter decide to go on a grocery store run to get more food for the Bunker. You thought Carter ate a lot, try living with him and the brothers. They are all vacuums, and you don’t know where they put them. The store isn’t too busy where you have to fight with someone while walking down the aisle, so you take your time and make sure you get everything on your list.

Carter is set on putting treats and snacks in the cart while you get meat, fruits, and other things to make meals with. It’s a damn good thing the Men of Letters have a virtually never-ending bank account to help with the cost of all this food. Carter grabs both cookies and donuts but you put your hand out to stop him from putting both into the cart.

“You get cookies or donuts. You don’t get both.”

“Okay.”

He drops the cookies into the cart before putting the donuts back. You walk away from your cart and approach an item on the shelf that’s on your list, and you look back at Carter to see him clutching the side of the cart patiently. After getting the item, you walk back to the cart but end up bumping into a man.

“I am so sorry,” you gasp.

“It’s fine,” he grumbles. You think that’s the end of the interaction but he stops and sniffs the air as if he smells something unusual. “Winchester.” He looks at Carter and his eyes flash pitch black. “Winchester baby.” You pull your son behind you so that he’s trapped between you and the aisle shelf. Another man with pitch-black eyes blocks the path on the other end of the aisle so the only way you’re getting out is through one of them. “He’s coming with us.”

“Over my dead body,” you growl.

“Fine by us.”

“Carter, get in the cart.” Carter does as he’s told without question while you unsheathe your iron knife from your pocket. Ever since he was born, you’ve always carried silver and iron on you at all times. You never know when you’ll get attacked. You twirl your knife and look between the two men. “You want him? Come and get him.”

The demon you bumped into rushes at you with his arms outstretched, and you take this opportunity to take him down in one move. You grab his arm and stab the iron knife in his forearm causing him to cry out in pain. You kick him in the chest and he goes flying away from you. Carter screams and you turn to see the other demon only inches from him.

You run at him before he has a chance to touch your son, and you drop down to your knees at the last second so you’re sliding toward him instead. Thank God for linoleum floors. When you reach him, you shove the knife into his thigh. He bends down in pain so you grab the nearest thing on the shelf that can be used as a weapon which is a glass jar of pickles. You ram the pickle jar into the man’s skull and he crumbles to the ground.

You get up and grab the handles of the cart to escape when you see the first demon get to his feet. Without thinking, you run at him with the cart in front of you. You hit him at full force which sends him back to the ground. You abandon the cart to approach the man and grab his hair. You yank it back and slice the man’s throat which burns like hell. It’s not the demon knife so it doesn’t kill him, but it does send a message.

Both men realize they aren’t getting out of this alive so they tip their heads back and smoke out. Taking the easy way out. Of course. You’re not sure if more are coming so you have to go now.

“Come on, baby. Let’s go.”

You pick Carter up and carry him out of the store. You don’t look back, not even when you get back to the Bunker. Sam and Dean are in the kitchen drinking beer when you rush in with your son in your arms.

“Where’s the food?” Dean asks. Both of them look over and see the fear in your eyes. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“Two demons caught us at the store.”

“What? Are you kidding me?”

“No. They smoked out. I couldn’t kill them.” You turn to your son who has a smile on his face. “Are you okay?”

“Mommy, you were totally awesome! Slicing and cutting those demons! Like the people in my video games!”

You chuckle, glad he isn’t scared.

“Go play in your room. I’ll be right there.” Carter runs to his room and you turn to the brothers with a worried look. “They wanted Carter because he’s Dean’s son. They want a Winchester. They told me.”

This pisses Dean off. He clenches his jaw in anger and makes a fist with his hand.

“I’ll make some calls.”

Dean turns and leaves the kitchen, leaving you and Sam alone. He sees something on your arm and frowns. He grabs your hand and inspects your arm.

“Are you alright?”

You look to where Sam is and see your blood seeping through your clothes. Sam rolls your sleeve to see a cut that’s not too deep. You must have gotten hurt in the small battle.

“I’m fine.”

Sam grabs a small towel and wets it underneath the faucet. He starts to clean your wound and take care of you since Castiel isn’t here to do it.

“Did you really fight off two demons?” You nod twice and he smiles. “Way to go.”

“Thank you,” you smile back.

Dean comes back an hour later looking more stressed than before. You’re all bandaged up with Sam in the library.

“I spoke to Crowley.” Dean sees the confused look on your face. “He’s a demon. He’s a dick but he’s a frenemy. Anyway, looks like Lucifer is looking for a new vessel since Sam rejected him.”

“He wants Carter?”

“Crowley put it as ‘fresh meat’ and a new start.”

“Over my dead fucking body,” you growl. “What are we gonna do?”

“We’re gonna talk to him.”

“Talk to him? You want to talk to Satan himself?”

“We have a… complicated relationship,” Sam shrugs.

“Who is going to stay here with Carter?”

“You,” Dean says.

“Uh, no. If my son is in danger by the devil himself, I’m not staying her. I’m fighting for my child.”

“I’ll stay with him,” Sam quickly volunteers.

“Fine. We’ll both go.”

“Fine.”

You and Dean get ready while Carter stays with Sam. If you’re going to up against the devil himself, you’re gonna want some weapons to protect yourself with. By the time you’re done, Carter is in the war room with his uncle. You kneel on the ground in front of him and kiss his cheek.

“Be good, my love. We’ll be back soon, okay?”

“In one piece?”

“I promise,” you smile. You and Dean leave the Bunker where his beloved car is parked outside. “So, how do you contact the devil?”

“Like this.”

Dean starts the car and drives to the nearest crossroads that is safest. He doesn’t want to get too close and have demons up the ass, especially if his son is back at the Bunker. Once parked, Dean gathers what he needs inside a tin container and buries it in the middle of the crossroads. Five minutes pass and a crossroads demon appears behind you two.

“Winchesters. How am I not surprised?” You two turn to see the man with red eyes. “I shouldn’t even be here talking to you two.”

“Save the theatrics,” Dean rolls his eyes. “We want to talk to your boss. I’m sure if he hears Dean is looking for him, he’d want to meet. Why else would he send his thugs after my son?”

The demon looks between you two and sighs. If Lucifer knew he’d turn down you two, then he’d get the bad end of his temper.

“Fine.” The demon reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small card. “Meet him here. He’ll be expecting you.”

The address is to a hotel on the other side of the state. If Lucifer wants his son, then it makes sense to have a home base in the same state as him. It takes five hours to get to Lucifer, and you see it’s a rundown hotel that doesn’t seem to be in use. The parking lot has trash everywhere, the trees are dead, the windows are boarded up, and the place looks like it’s gonna collapse any second.

Two demons meet you in the lobby with black eyes. They turn and leave without a word, and you look at Dean in confusion. He shrugs and decides to follow them to a room down the hall. Inside the room is two more demons and Lucifer himself who is in front of some computers that has all kind of information on them. Scanners, pictures, articles, and other things in his interests.

“Ah, Winchesters. I am so glad to see you,” Lucifer smiles and turns. “How is that son of yours?”

“Stay the hell away from my son,” you glare angrily.

“Yeah, not gonna happen. I need a new vessel.” Lucifer gestures to his own body. “This one is wearing thin.”

“Why my son? Why not anyone else?”

“The younger they are, the better, and it’s a plus that he’s a Winchester.”

“I’m only going to say this once,” Dean steps forward. “Come near my, Y/N, or my son, and I’ll kill you dead.”

Lucifer lifts his hand and snaps and in an instant, Dean is chained to the wall with rope. You’re about to go to him when two demons hold you on either side of your body to prevent you from moving. When you struggle, their grip tightens.

“You think you’re tough?” Lucifer asks and walks over to Dean. “How about now?”

The Archangel punches Dean in the jaw so hard that Dean gets blown back from the attack.

“Stop it!” you gasp and struggle some more.

Dean looks up with a glare and spits blood onto the floor.

“You’re being tough for your girl, huh?”

Lucifer punches Dean yet again, drawing blood on his cheekbone.

“Get your hands off him!” you yell hopelessly.

“I don’t know why you hang out with these chumps. They’re bad news.” Lucifer turns to you with a smile. “I’m much better company.”

“Some angel you are,” you scoff. “No wonder God cast you out of Heaven. You’re a lowlife and a coward.”

The smile on the angel’s face disappears, and he stalks over to you with a glare. He grabs your chin tightly and forces you to look up at him.

“No! Don’t touch her!” Dean gasps from the pain.

“Say that again,” he whispers.

You conjure up enough saliva in your mouth and spit right in his face.

“You’re a fucking coward who picks on the weak. No wonder God doesn’t love you.” Lucifer smirks and wipes your spit from his face. His cool demeanor is kind of scaring you but you’re not going to back down, not when your son is at stake. He snaps his fingers again and Dean coughs up blood. He doubles over in pain and spits a pool of blood onto the ground. “Leave him alone!”

“Why?” Lucifer lets go of you and takes two steps back. “We’re having so much fun.”

He turns back to Dean and punches him in the face again, right in the same spot as before.

“You want someone to fight? Fight me! No powers, just me!” Lucifer pauses but doesn’t accept your challenge. “What, are you scared you won’t win against a human?”

Lucifer gestures for the two demons to let go of you, and they listen obediently. He grabs an angel blade off the table and walks over to you. You think he’s going to stab you with it but he twirls it in his hand so that the handle of pointing toward you.

“Take it. I’ll make it fair. You know, for when we fight.”

You grab the blade and stare at it before throwing it off to the side.

“I won’t need it.”

“Okay,” he nods. “Show me what you got.”

“Don’t do it, Y/N,” Dean groans and looks up from his spot on the floor.

“Let’s make this more interesting. If I win, I get your son,” Lucifer smiles. “If you win, you walk out of here.”

You immediately run at Luficer. You make yourself come across as weak and inexperienced when really, you’re nothing like that. When Carter was a baby, you took self-defense and karate classes to be a better fighter. Monsters were everywhere, and Carter needed you to be able to protect him. This is no different.

When you get a couple of feet from the angel, you drop to your knees and slide on the wood floor toward him. He goes swinging to hit you but you drop out of the line of his attack. It’s cliche, but you punch Lucifer right where the sun doesn’t shine as hard as you can. He doubles over in pain as you hop to your feet. You jump onto his back when he is hunched over so that your entire body is wrapped around him. You wrap your arm around his neck to put him in a chokehold and tighten your grip.

“Angel or not, you men still have the same weaknesses.”

The cross necklace you always wear touches the back of his neck and his flesh sizzles from the contact. Before he has a chance to attack you, you yank the necklace off and shove it right into his face. The cross comes into contact with his eyes, and Lucifer howls out in pain. He grabs your arms and throws you off him from the front. You go flying over him and onto the ground and you groan in pain from where your head made contact with the floor.

Dean struggles against the rope but there is no way he’s getting out of those without help. Lucifer wants to use his powers but he is a man of his word. He rears his fist back to pummel your face when you roll out of the way at the last second. You scramble to your feet and reach into your pocket for one of the weapons you snagged from the Bunker.

They are Enochian Brass Knuckles. You read that these hurt even Lucifer and weaken him, and that’s exactly what you’re going to do to him. Lucifer rushes at you but you punch him in the jaw with the brass knuckles on your hand. He is flown back by the impact and into the table containing a bunch of documents.

You walk over to him and punch him in the nose, effectively breaking it. You step on his chest and apply pressure. The power from the brass knuckles is enough to take him down since they severely weaken even the strongest of archangels. Lucifer coughs and gasps from the pressure but doesn’t have enough strength to get you off him.

“Stay the fuck away from my son or I’ll do more than just punch you.” You get off him only to punch him in the chest with the brass rings. That seems to be enough to keep him down, and you turn to the demons who watch with wide eyes. “Anyone else want to go?” All four demons make the smart decision and smoke out of their bodies. You turn to Dean who is seriously impressed with your skill. You take out your pocket knife and cut him free of the ropes. “Come on, let’s go home.”

Dean doesn’t miss the way his heart flutters when you say “home”. The entire ride back home is silent since neither of you knows what to say. Sam has been early waiting for your return so when he hears the car come into the garage, he rushes out to you.

“What happened?” he asks when he sees the state both of you are in.

“I beat the hell out of Satan but not before he got in a few on Dean. Where’s Carter?”

“Asleep.”

“Okay. I’ll explain later. Right now, we have to go to the infirmary.”

“Y/N, I’m fine.”

“You’re going to the infirmary.”

Dean knows better than to argue with you. You take him down to the infirmary where you’re able to patch him up. He has cuts on his face that you get to work on cleaning, and he sits still and watches you. He’s done a good job of bottling his feelings up when it comes to you but after seeing what you did tonight, it causes that door to bust open. He can’t help himself when he lowers his head and cries.

“What’s wrong? Are you still bleeding?”

“I’m so sorry.” His voice sounds so small, and you know exactly what he’s talking about. Your heart hurts but you let him continue while you lift his face and clean his wounds. “I am so sorry for what I said to you. I never meant it.”

“Then why did you say it?” you ask quietly.

“Because I’m insecure. Everyone around me dies and I didn't want you to end up that way. I knew you wouldn’t have left so I said shit that would make you leave. I saw what you did back there. You’re not a bad hunter. I never meant for any of this to happen. I am so sorry.”

You set down the bloody rag and grab a cotton swab for the hydrogen peroxide. It’s minutes before you’re able to respond.

“Who are we kidding? I was a pretty bad aim back then,” you chuckle. “I couldn’t hurt a fly much less a monster.”

You dab the wet cotton swab on his wounds, and he hisses in pain.

“I’m sorry I missed out on our son’s life. I wish I could take it back.”

You sigh and put your cleaning supplies away. You grab a small butterfly bandaid to put over the largest cut over his cheekbone.

“Well, I guess staying here wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Carter loves it here… and so do I,” you whisper.

Dean catches you're eyes and smiles.

“Does this mean I’m forgiven?”

“No,” you shake your head, “but that doesn’t mean we can’t start over.” You stick your hand out to him. “Hi. I’m Y/N.”

Dean shakes his head and pulls you closer to him.

“Come here,” he smiles.

His kiss awakens something in you. His kiss is like coming up for air after being underwater for so long. His kiss is like taking a breath of fresh air after being in a stuffy room. His kiss is like stretching after being in one position for too long. His kiss is like scratching the itch that’s been bothering for you hours.

His kiss is like… home.

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