#Multi's Writing

[multiisketch]

Sonic Mini-Comic: "Shadow Generations: Chaos Island"

After about three weeks it's finally done! A short portfolio piece! Any of you who've been following me long enough know that the prospect of Sonic and Shadow meeting on Chaos Island intrigued me. Finally put words into story. I hope you enjoy!

Special thanks to @wnacn for assisting in developing a stellar script for this short comic! It was a blast working with her and you should all go read her comic Hazard Horizons!

[multi-lefaiye]

devotion unanswered

[ #FFF305 DIVINE QUESTIONING]

rushing to finish my entry for this week's @flashfictionfridayofficial. finally got it!! been a while since i participated in this :3 glad to do that again.

fandom: original characters, based on the d&d campaign my fiance is running

word count: 959

content warnings: child abandonment and neglect, terminal illness, references to death. this one's a bummer y'all

------

Eden’s mother was devout, exceptionally so.

Hannah Linnaeus was a woman of faith in every sense of the word, whose belief in the gods above permeated every aspect of her life. The candles on the family mantle, the crystal hanging around her neck, the elegant tapestries on the wall--all of them were a testament to her piety.

When he was a child, she did her best to endow him with this same faith, this same unshakeable belief that everything happens for a reason, and that no matter what, the gods would be looking out for them.

She would sit him in her lap, gentle hands braiding his thick curly hair as she told him, time and time again, of the gods she was so devoted to.

The first was Phera, the mother of mercy, who wept endlessly at the suffering for the world, her heart aching at her creations’ pain.

Eventually, her weeping brought forth her daughters, each one part of the endless cycle of life, death, and what lies beyond.

Vodona, the goddess of beginnings. Opportunity, marriage, family--all of it lies under her hopeful domain.

Danera, the goddess of journeys. Travel, discovery, pursuits of knowledge or pleasure--she sees the thousands of paths in life, and watches over them all with keen eyes.

Temlene, the goddess of endings. Illness, death, funerals--she brings finality to her creations with dignity and respect, as all things must come to an end.

As a child, Eden regarded the gods with wonder, wide golden eyes staring at the tapestries of the pantheon. He traced their faces with small, clumsy fingers, and he marveled at the power behind each holy name. His mother spoke of them with such reverence, it was no wonder he was so fascinated.

“The gods can’t fix everything,” she would say, an indulgent smile on her face. “But they’re always looking out for you, and you can always ask them for guidance.”

And, of course, Eden believed her.

But that was before- Well. It was before.

Before her husband left, and the house grew cold as Hannah’s light began to dim. Before her shiny yellow eyes grew dull and unfocused, the shadows under them deepening by the day. Before her every breath became a death rattle in her chest, before her legs grew weak and exhausted, before the life bled out of her-

One night, when Eden was ten years old, he prayed to his mother’s gods.

It’d been a bad day, one where she could hardly sit up in bed without her body rebelling with everything it had, wracking her brittle frame with agony-inducing coughing fits. Eden had spent most of the day doing everything he could to soothe her, and finally she slipped into an uneasy slumber, his brother curled up in her arms..

On some level, Eden knew that he was far too young to take this much responsibility. The rest of him knew he had no other choice, not when no one else was going to do it. No one else would raise his brother, and no one else would care for his dying mother.

He’d been let down too many times to get his hopes up on that front.

But, despite how much he should’ve known better by then, a tiny, desperate little sliver of hope still clung to Eden. One that had yet to shrivel and fall off, even after four years of being his family’s only caretaker.

Perhaps the gods, those celestial giants his mother was so devoted to, would be able to help. Perhaps they would be able to give him that guidance she said they would. Perhaps they’d show Eden what he had to do to save his mother and make sure his baby brother grew up safe, warm, loved, fed, and loved.

So, he lit the candles at his mother’s altar, got down on his knees, and bent forward, pressing his hands together. And he prayed.

He called to Temlene first, beseeching the goddess of death to stay her hand. Surely she would understand that his mother couldn’t die yet, not when she had so much life left to live, when she had two little ones who needed her.

But Temlene didn’t answer.

He called to Danera next, asking the goddess of journeys to recognize how much longer his mother’s journey would be. There was so much left to do, so much more her sons had to do, and she had to live to see it.

But Danera didn’t answer.

He called to Vodona after that, outright begging the goddess of family not to take his mother away from him, not to leave him and his baby brother alone in the world. Surely, if the other gods wouldn’t listen, she would understand his plight.

But Vodona didn’t answer.

(Eden didn’t even try to pray to Phera. If her daughters wouldn’t answer him, the goddess of mercy surely wouldn’t either.)

Eden prayed until his hands trembled and his eyes burned from the tears rolling down his scaly cheeks. By the time dawn arrived, he’d stopped crying, staring numbly at his hands. It was colder in the room than it was before.

Biting back a sniffle, Eden wiped his face with his sleeve and sat up, his body aching in protest after he’d spent nearly five hours sitting on the wooden floor. His brother would be waking up soon, and Eden had to make sure he was presentable. Big brothers aren’t supposed to cry, after all.

As he slowly got to his feet, Eden’s gaze fell on his mother’s altar.

The candles he’d lit for the goddesses had melted themselves down to nothing, their wicks long since drowned in the molten wax and snuffing out their tiny flames.

He didn’t light them again.

[gothamite-rambler]

Duke Thomas: What’s your biggest fear?

Jason Todd: That I’ll never be good enough for anyone.

Tim Drake: Everyone hates me and talks about me behind my back.

Dick Grayson: Vampires.

Jason Todd: ...

Tim Drake: ...

Dick Grayson: I got turned into one once and nearly killed peoples. It's a bloodlust, you never know when you'll be fully quenched and every non-vampire is a succulent vessel... But I'm not a vampire anymore and that is in my past.

Dick eats his apple after that.

*silence*

Duke Thomas: Holy crap stick, Batman.

Tim: Can I change my option to Dick Grayson?

Jason: Same.

[bachissidehoe]

in which you're Reo's princess, and Nagi's his treasure. (w.c. 1049)

At first, you found it strange the way Nagi Seishiro would so casually throw his arm around your shoulder and hold you close to his chest. You were Reo’s girlfriend, after all. The girlfriend of his best friend.

“What are you playing?”

He sighed. “It would be a hassle to explain. You can watch though.”

And you did. You sat next to him on the couch, forcing your gaze past his toned muscles and shaggy, tangled hair to watch his little mobile game.

“Come here. It’s hard to play when you’re leaning on my arm.”

And he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you into his side so he could access his screen better. Apparently, this position made him more mobile.

You were flushed. You didn’t think something like this would be allowed. You were nestled into the gorgeous, soft body of your boyfriend’s best friend.

“Oh cute! My princess and my treasure.”

That’s all Reo had said when he saw you. It surprised you, to say the least.

But it’s not like you were complaining. Where lying on Reo’s chest was warm, Nagi’s was cool. Where Reo was obvious with his praise, Nagi was nonchalant. You found yourself wanting the affection of both of them, in a weird way.

And it started to be less surprising when Nagi asked to hold you. In fact, you started to hope he would.

“Your thighs are soft, like pillows. I need a nap.”

And Nagi collapsed, right there on your thighs, letting his eyes flutter shut. So calm.

“Aren’t they?” Reo agreed from the opposite couch, encouraging the physicality.

What the two didn’t notice was how you shifted in your seat, affected by the warm breaths that dusted your inner thighs. It wouldn’t be comfortable for the snowy haired boy to sleep in a puddle, so you held on for dear life, your hands clenched around the fabric of the couch rather than tangled in his messy hair.

You hadn’t realized the effect Nagi Seishiro really had on you. How his subtle, casual affection had trained you to become a secret mess for him. For your boyfriend’s best friend.

But Reo- your smart, charismatic, beautiful boyfriend- he had realized. In fact, he’d been encouraging this for a reason.

“You’re bothered, aren’t you princess?”

For a moment you thought you may be in trouble. It’s wrong to get turned on by your boyfriend’s best friend. But the look on Reo’s face, the devious smirk, said otherwise.

So you nodded.

“How cute.” He moved to hover over you, Nagi still restful on your thighs. “My princess and my treasure get along so well.”

It became pretty obvious what your boyfriend wanted after that. You just didn't realize how you didn't notice it before. The way he looked at Nagi. The way he encouraged you two. He wanted Nagi just as badly as you did.

The burning growing between your thighs wasn't enough for just Reo to satisfy anymore. And he knew that.

"Princess, hm? That what you want me to call her too, Reo?" Nagi mumbled, his groggy eyes opening just enough to look up at your flushed face.

"You should." Reo pulled Nagi upward by his shirt, removing him from the comfortable spot he created on your thighs.

Nagi complained the whole way up, of course, he was never one to enjoy being forced out of a cozy position.

"You should also let her ride you." Reo smirked, bringing Nagi's face close to his, nearly touching his lips.

You gulped.

But Nagi Seishiro was less than nervous, the nonchalant type of person he was. He only glanced back at you, not struggling at all under your boyfriend's tight hold on his shirt.

"Yeah fine." Nagi agreed.

It was hard for you to tell whether Nagi really wanted to fuck you, whether he was interested in you at all or if he wanted to shut Reo up. But as it turned out, Nagi Seishiro was stubborn and ruthless. He wanted you just as badly, his cock constantly straining against his shorts whenever you were close to him, wanting any excuse to stuff his face into your pretty thighs. But he'd never admit it.

Not until you were bouncing on his thick cock, mouth hung open and hands relentlessly tugging on his hair. Right there on that couch. With your wet cunt soaking him, your movements squeezing juices into a messy coating for Nagi's bare thighs.

That's when Nagi Seishiro decided to be honest. "Fuck, I needed you. Fuck~ yes I need~ ah-"

And Reo couldn't have been happier about the beautiful scene he created. "You don't mind, hm? Can't expect me to just watch." He lined up behind you, letting his familiar, flushed tip plunge into the depths of your unused hole, forcing you to lean forward onto Nagi's chest.

"I'll get ya both off. Fuck~" Reo spat, his thrusts creating the friction both you and Nagi so desperately craved, your heavy breaths mixing into each other in the small space between you.

And you kissed him, because you couldn't help it. Your sloppy, drooly lips pressed to Nagi's in a desperate display of hunger.

As it turned out, Reo had been thinking about this for a long time. Longer than you had. Longer than the stubborn Nagi Seishiro had.

He rocked his hips in perfect rhythm, your cunt sliding and squeezing around Nagi's perfect cock while your ass was lubed and stuffed by your pretty boyfriend.

Reo was right about getting you both off, too. It took him practically no time, with your clit rubbing against Nagi's skin and the friction forcing Nagi's tip into your g-spot over and over again, it wasn't difficult. But that didn't matter to Reo, he never specified how many times he expected to get you two off. And it became clear very quickly that once wasn't enough for him.

He'd been holding back his desires for too long, he deserved to see you shaking, tears streaming down your face, cum dripping from all your holes. He deserved to see Nagi fucked out, hair sticking to his forehead, arms wrapped around you and lips attached to your bruised neck.

Your boyfriend deserved that much. After how long you made him wait to fuck his princess and his treasure.

[yapperingtinaa]

Bubble bath with Sylus.

A little indulgence after yet another tiring day, both clad only in towels as you leaned your back against his broad chest while his arms wrapped loosely around your waist. The soothing warm water engulfing you both under the massive bathtub, the fragrance of the bubbles lingering in the air as Sylus tenderly massaged your aching joints, from your shoulders down to your knees, smiling softly at thought of having to hold you so intimately close like this.

So close, so relaxed and so calm in his arms.

As you glanced over your shoulder to look up at him, a warm smile gracing your lips and the gaze in your eyes -

'She's either rejecting you, scared of you, or... disgusted by you'

- that was once hostile was now filled with pure adoration towards him. A bright loving gaze that made his heart stutter as he watched you scoop up a handful of bubbles before mischievously smudging some on his nose.

"Boop!" Your cheery laughter snapped him out of his daze. The brief flashback of the bittersweet one-sided reunion nearly sent him spiralling into a pit of fear and doubt, but the sound of your joyful voice brought him back to this new reality.

A new reality he vowed to cherish better.

"What a sneaky kitten." Sylus let out a breathy chuckle, his tone teasing yet held a tight-lipped emotions he rather suppress than dwell. "Two can play at that game, sweetie."

In a swift motion, he maneuvered your body around until you were seated on his lap, smirking at your shrieks of surprise before he leaned up to rub his bubbled smudged nose against yours.

"Sylus you-!"

An instantaneous bubble fight was commence, neither both of you back down from playfully smudging soapy bubbles onto each other. The water splashed around the surface of the bathtub, squeals and hearty laughter reverberated in the bathroom.

Such a little indulgence, one Sylus would revel in no matter how childish or silly it was - as long as he's enjoying the moment with you, his dear beloved, he's more than willing to indulge more, together.

[incorrectbatfam]

One thing I rarely see in injury and chronic pain fics is the grief that comes with missing out on stuff you love because you can no longer do them without hurting yourself. Writers who have been disabled their whole lives (or at least a long time) tend to forget that not all disabled people are used to being disabled. For able-bodied characters, especially athletic ones like vigilantes, a serious injury could mean a jarring change that includes giving up the things that mean the most to them.

I was physically fine until I was 18. Back then, my sense of self was entwined with interests that required a lot of movement and dexterity. I started doing MMA in middle school for self-defense. I loved parkour and even had a few hundred subscribers on my old YouTube channel. I learned to shoot and was gifted my first gun when I was 16. I took up multiple instruments. You get the idea.

My motorcycle accident fucked up the joints on my left side—my knee and shoulder especially, but also wrist to an extent. When it first happened, I thought I'd be on crutches for a bit but things would eventually get back to normal. The pain didn't go away even after I got rid of the crutches but I figured it was just residual and I should do what I'd been doing before. It's why I turned to substances—to block the pain and do what I love, but that's another topic. I didn't recognize my injury as a disabling thing until the end of the pandemic, when I put my parkour channel on an indefinite hiatus because it was seriously wearing my body down. It might sound silly to you but I was devastated. It's like if Spider-Man wasn't allowed to swing from buildings. It took me a long time to make peace with losing that part of me.

Another piece of that grief is even when you can do stuff, it's not the same because you have to exclude certain aspects of it for your own health. It's like the Robin that died and came back wrong. I can't use certain gym equipment and I have to tell my sparring partners what to avoid. I don't go to the shooting range much now because I can't extend my arm and hold a rifle for the amount of time it takes to aim without it starting to hurt. I'm a drummer, but I need breaks throughout the setlist and I can't do anything too fast or complex with the pedals, which means I can't play some of my favorite songs and my band is limited in what we write and perform. I can't take my motorcycle on road trips without frequent rest stops. Making accommodations helps physically, but emotionally, they're not always easy to accept because that means accepting the pain as a long-term disability rather than a temporary setback.

This got super long because I think it's unexplored in fics so some tips for creators:

First, learn how the body works and how stupidly fast and easy it is to get hurt. Mine was on a residential road because I didn't pay attention for 0.2 seconds

Learn the difference between internalized ableism and being upset over becoming disabled. I think a lot of writers skip over the feelings someone would naturally experience because it can be construed as ableism. Let them be in denial, sad, angry, etc. upon finding out because acceptance almost never happens right away. That's different from being a dick to themselves or others based on disability

Also, not everyone uses the same labels or has the same vocabulary to describe themselves. Different characters will have different ways of describing depending on their personality, level of knowledge, where they come from, and their relationship with their disability. I still don't really call myself disabled since I don't have it as bad as others so I tell people what happened instead (anyone who says "differently abled" will receive a different ability from me in the Denny's parking lot)

Think about how they cope with their new disability. Do they realize it's a disability right away? Do they talk to someone? Search desperately for a cure? Numb the pain? Turn to alternative methods? Do they worry about something else first, like money? Do they develop something else because of it, like a mental illness? Again, coping poorly is not ableism

What stays the same and what changes? I think about the difference between Forrest Gump and Lieutenant Dan after they were both wounded in battle

If they have a passion they can no longer pursue, it doesn't make much sense for them drop it so readily. Maybe they find a way to continue with accommodations (a good place to get creative!). Maybe they try and push through anyway. If they do ultimately resign, include the thought process and internal conflict behind it

[stellamarielu]

thinking about how pope likes having his hair played with... thinking about him maybe having some sort of fixation with hair... pulling on it, threading it through his fingers, braiding it... Lots to unpack here... girl dad! pope jump scare sorry

Him laying with his head on your lap, or on your chest, just for your hands to instinctively migrate to his curls.

Threading your fingers through his hair, and hearing a subtle sigh of relief when he feels you gently scratching his scalp. Following the pattern of each auburn wave with your fingertips, his body still under your touch.

It’s a comfort mechanism, something he never realized he looked for until you became a permanent figure in his life. Now he searches for the solace at the end of a long day— the therapeutic sensation of your fingertips at his scalp. Burrowing his head against your body and waiting for the salvation of your hands gently tugging through his hair.

He offers it back to you. A subconscious bargain of affection when he runs a hand over your hair while you're cooking dinner. Almost petting it while he stands next to you, listening to you talk about your day. Busy playing with it between his fingertips, getting lost in the texture of your hair and the sound of your voice.

He tugs on it gently when you turn to kiss him. tangling his hands in your hair when you break the kiss to let your lips venture down his jaw.

He fixates on it— his ability to weave your hair between his fingers, pulling and molding it however he pleases. Something in the intricacy of each strand coming together at his fingertips to form an unruly bouquet, feeds his body's need to keep his hands busy at all times.

It grounds him. It’s a refined fidgeting that satisfies the restlessness of his hands.

That’s why he thrives off the consistency of routine in doing his daughter's hair almost every morning.

The repetitive nature of it relaxes him. The gentle brushing and braiding of her hair in his hands transports him to a place of innocent peace, as she sits patiently in front of him, watching cartoons and eating breakfast. The pattern of her dark curls are almost identical to his. He lets his hands fall into the same familiar motions, humming his responses as she talks to him about something that happened at recess yesterday. He takes his job very seriously, making sure every hair is in its place before carrying her lunch and backpack to his truck while she follows sweetly behind.

It’s a habit that comes to fruition under vulnerable circumstances. A tender extension of affection saved for the people he loves most.

[ekingston]

Friends! Lovers! Writers of fan fiction, foe fiction and original fiction alike! Are you drowning in WIPs? Do you find yourself procrastinating instead of writing? Do you abandon all of your current projects every time you think of a shiny new idea? Fear not! I’m here to make your problems even WORSE by bringing you a

The following picker wheels will randomly assign you a genre, a premise, a trope, and a subject (an item, concept or character that has to come up in your fic in some way).

The challenge is to write a fic up to 1000 words long.

For extra credit, make it exactly 100, 250, 500, 750 or 1000 words long.

Please reblog with the prompts you were given, and if you’re up to the challenge, link to your work in the comments!

If you like, you can add your work to the collection on ao3. It’s categorized as multi_fandom_flash_fiction.

I’ll also be regularly updating the masterlist here.

Have fun & thanks for playing!

[kbaji]

❝ 𝐒𝚸𝐋𝐈𝐒𝚮 𝐒𝚸𝐋𝚨𝐒𝚮 ❞ FEAT. YOUR FAV JJK & TOYKOREV MEN !

w. sfw, fem. reader, slightly suggestive @ end, use of ‘daddy’ and ‘mommy’, reader and character are married and have a daughter, pretend it’s summer thxs, not proofread

n. this is so ass but i wanted to write, enjoy (◕‿◕)♡

“Alright, jump to Daddy, princess!” Your husband extends his arms to his daughter with a comforting smile plastered on his face, “you can do it!” (D/n) stares back at him nervously, bringing her hand to her mouth, sucking on her thumb.

It’s blistering hot outside. Any liquid that hits the pavement evaporates within milliseconds, and you drip sweat despite having a fan blow cool air on you and an umbrella shielding you from the sun's rays. So, having a family pool day was perfect for you, your husband, and your daughter to cool off.

From the sidelines of the pool, you stared at your husband, then at your daughter, switching between the two as she stood there, mortified that her father would disappear once she jumped towards him.

“Jump, baby! Daddy will catch you!” You shouted, and her eyes shifted to where you were sitting. She stared at you, her expression laced with concern, before she shook her head. You sent her a warm smile and a thumbs-up as she sighed and looked back at her dad, checking if he was still there. “I’m scared, Mommy! What if I drown?” She voiced out, bottom lip wobbling as her head filled with thoughts of worse case scenario, scaring herself to step back from the ledge.

“You won’t drown, baby. I won’t let anything happen to you, pinky promise.” Your husband dropped his arms before dragging one back up towards her, holding his pinky out for her to grab. She anxiously stared at his pinky finger then huffed, dropping her thumb from her mouth and reluctantly reaching out to interlock pinkies with him.

After a few seconds, (D/n) stood there, still hesitant to jump to him. You noticed your daughter's nervousness and sighed, getting up from your chair and walking to the pool stairs. You stepped in and paddled over to both of them once you acclimatized to the cool water. Looking up at your husband, you grab his bicep before leaning up and whispering, “I know what will get her to jump in.” He turns his head to look at you with an amused smile, slightly doubting you knew how to get (D/n) to jump, considering she has always been scared of the water. “Enlighten me then, my love.” You send him a smirk before turning back to (D/n). “If you jump, Daddy will buy you ice cream and get you the Barbie dream house you’ve been wanting!”

Her ears perk up, and her anxiousness turned into determination as her eyes locked on her father like a target. 

Your husband’s eyes grow wide, and before he could protest that ‘Santa would be getting her that for Christmas,’ your daughter took a leap of faith, cannonballing into him, splashing water on the concrete and the two of you. You turned away as the water splashed and laughed heartily as your husband grunted from the impact, sending both of them under the water.

“Good job, baby! You did it!” You exclaimed as your husband and daughter emerged to the surface. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her on his hip as she wiped the water from her face. You smiled, sneaking your arms around the both of them and placed a kiss on top of her wet hair, then one on your husband’s cheek.

As the hot summer afternoon continued on, you and your husband helped your daughter float and swim around the pool, splashing each other while sharing laughs and smiles.

So suddenly, hours passed. You noticed your fingers had become pruney, and the sun was about to set, signaling it was time to get out of the water and prepare for supper. You voiced that it was time to get out to your husband and daughter, and they both pouted before you all hopped out of the pool and dried off.

You made your way inside and entered the kitchen, your husband and daughter following behind you, smiles plastered on their faces. (D/n) walked up to you and hugged your leg, telling you that Daddy would help her get ready for dinner. You smiled, leaning down to kiss her cheek, "I’ll order Chinese for dinner. Sound good?” She smiled and nodded before running off to her room.

Your husband chuckled at his daughter and turned back to you, walking up and wrapping his arms around your waist. “Chinese for dinner, huh?” he asked, his tone laced with mischief. You wrapped your arms around his neck and gave him a knowing look, leaning up and kissing his cheek softly. "You want something else?” He looked away, a blush dusting across his cheeks as his hands trailed down to your hips, tugging at the hem of your coverup. "Yeah, but I guess it’ll have to be dessert.” You snorted and placed a hand on his chest, patting him lightly to get him to look at you. Once he tuned back to look at you, you send him a soft smile, sliding your hand from his chest down to the towel that wrapped around his hips. You lightly trace your fingers along his skin teasingly, smirking up at him before pulling back your hand. “You’ll get to have me later, promise.”

He let out a groan as he threw his head back, and before he could whine out a protest, (D/n) shouted from the top of the stairs. “Hurry up, Daddy!”

You giggle as he grumbles, sliding a hand down your back to playfully smack your ass. He turned around to walk toward the stairs, not before stopping and speaking up.

“Can’t wait, Mommy.”

NAVIGATION, MASTERLIST ⋆ REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED!

[multi-lefaiye]

IT'S OKAY SHE'S OKAY here's the next bit actually

So, when he opens his eyes to see her there, standing quietly aside from her breathing, his breath catches in his throat. No, no, no, the ritual failed, she’s Darkened again, she’s going to die and they’re too late and there’s nothing they can-

“Kylan?” she asks softly, and the tension in his shoulders instantly breaks. “Are you awake?”

It takes him a moment to relax, relief crashing over him in a wave that nearly leaves him cold and shaking. He lets out a breath.

sets this down in front of you

When Deet’s curse was at its worst, when she was left trapped in her own mind, wide-eyed and catatonic, she spent much of her time staring at them all, just like this. Silently watching them with her eerie, sunken, unblinking eyes while her body slowly rotted itself from the inside out. They could tell she was still alive from her rattling, shaky breaths, but in every other way that mattered she was a corpse.

THAT WAS NOT SUNSHINE AND RAINBOWS

[uravitypng]

𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐯𝐬 𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢

I HAD A VISION!! THIS IS CANON ! the dichotomy of gojo and nanami <3 !!! (i've never really written for nanami before so this may be a little ooc but he's WHIPPED so i don't think it is tbh)

𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔-

satoru is absolutely besotted with you, head over heels! he's so happy you're his girlfriend and he'll do anything to keep it that way. satoru babytraps you, purposely trying to get you pregnant so you don't leave him. people always use to compliment him and fawn over him but none of it actually made him feel anything, they were all just hollow and shallow words but then you came along! a pretty little thing with a pretty smile, kind and complimentary, laughing at the things he said and always trusting him!

he wants you to stay with him forever, he wants you to be his wife, he wants to be your husband, he knows you'd make such a good mother and the idea of your body changing and looking softer than it already is makes him cum quicker than it should.

it started off as poking holes into condoms for about seven months but you still weren't pregnant! no matter how many holes he poked and how much he fucked you until you couldn't think anymore you still weren't pregnant.

he had to try something else! and after a lot of convincing you he didn't use a condom anymore as long as he promised he'd pull out. when satoru mentioned pulling out your furrowed your eyebrows, because you swear that isn't one hundred safe but satoru swears to you it is! and of course you'd believe him.

and you're just so cute! with the way you trust him implicitly! and your adorable face when you cum!

so every night, without fail, he's folding your body in half and thrusting into you as deep as he can. even when satoru pulls out sometimes he'll 'accidentally' time it wrong with the tip staying just outside your pussy and shooting cum everywhere, a little gets inside you and you don't notice and you definitely don't realise that the rest goes in you too as satoru makes sure to scoop up his cum with his fingers before fingering you claiming that he "wants to make you cum one more time."

when your period is finally late he'll tell you how "it must be fate" and "it's meant to be" and you'll believe him. how he'll say "you'll be such a great mama" and "we're going to be the best family!" he'll ask you if you want a summer wedding or an autumn wedding, he'll take you ring shopping the next day and buy the most expensive one your eyes linger on. the thought that your boyfriend purposely got you pregnant will never cross your mind.

even ten years later as a stay-at-home mum and housewife with three kids, you still believe that the pull out method is just as accurate as different birth controls but that it was destiny for you to get pregnant, you and satoru are soulmates and the universe was telling you that you'd make perfect parents and would be perfect husband and wife.

𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎-

you love kento! and you know he loves you, you wouldn't be dating as long as you have if he didn't but sometimes you still have your doubts. you've been dating for six years and he still hasn't proposed. you live together and when you first started dating he mentioned that he wants to get married one day, he wants to start a family one day, but all these years later nothing has happened. sometimes you get worried that he'll leave you, you couldn't bare it if he did, you think your heart might break in two.

it's gotten to a point where you can't cope anymore. friends and family will make comments about starting a family at dinners and events but kento just brushes it off. you worry that he'll find someone else, younger, prettier, thinner. you can't lose him.

you stop taking your birth control. every morning when you wake up, instead of taking the pill like you used to, you flush it down the toilet, in hopes that you'll get pregnant. you've been on birth control since before you met him so not taking it is a change but you need a change, a change that will help you start a family! you and kento have a very active sex life, if everything goes to plan he'll keep cumming in you like he always does and you'll finally get pregnant and start a family, he'll want to marry you!

you shouldn't underestimate your boyfriend though. kento knows what you're doing. he won't say anything but he'll make sure to stuff you with more cum than normal. he'll make sure to grab your malleable hips tightly and thrust deep and slow, pushing himself as far into as possible before cumming inside. he'll make sure it sticks.

the thought of leaving you never crossed his mind for one second, he does want to marry you and have a family with you, he has for years, he's just been waiting for the right time. he wanted to make sure he's financially stable with work, he wanted to make absolute sure that he'd never have to go on work trips away from you or work even ten minutes longer than when his shifts end. he wants to make sure you never had to worry about money and he'd get to spend lots of time with you and the kids but then he discovers that you have other plans.

when he finds out what your doing because you're getting worried over such a silly, inconceivable thing he thinks its so you. he thinks it's cute that his girlfriend is going through all of this so he'll play along. he'll ask you when the test comes back positive if you've 'been taking your birth control' and when you lie and tell him 'yes' he won't say anything, he'll pretend that he doesn't know the truth.

and then finally he can answer all those questions honestly from family members, he'll finally be able to tell everyone the truth to the questions. squashing the thought in his head that it's a possibility you only want one child, because you did all of this you must want more than one, or even if you don't it's at least you could do after 'trapping' him, "this is just the first one but of course we don't want them to be lonely so we'll have to give them a few siblings."

he does fabricate some things still, "we've decided not to find out about the sex of the baby, i know our little surprise is going to be perfect." kento's telling everyone that you're "going to look absolutely gorgeous coming down that aisle." you ask him shyly if you should wait until after you give birth to get married but kento won't have any of that, he's been dreaming of the wedding pictures for years, most of those dreams have included you visibly pregnant.

[multiisketch]

All the Pencils, Inks, and Base Colors for my "Shadow Generation: Chaos Island" Mini-Comic.

[caffeinewitchcraft]

The Hero and Hope (Part 2/5)

(part 1) (part 3)

The next time you go hunting, the Bahrs go with you.

“It’s really fine,” you protest. It’s early enough in the morning that the air carries a bite. With any luck, they’ll think the redness in your cheeks comes from the chill rather than embarrassment. “I’m not even going far in. It’s Hera’s birthday coming up and she likes squirrel…”

“You’re going to catch a squirrel without a blade?” Mr. Bahr – Ivan – asks. He tightens the strap on Mrs. Bahr’s back, making sure the quiver of arrows is snug along her spine. He pats her shoulder when he finishes and beams at you. “Are you very fast?”

Yes, you are. You’ve noticed that you’re even faster lately as your 15th birthday marches closer and closer. You purse your lips. “I set traps.”

“Don’t mind him, Isla,” Mrs. Bahr -Marie -  says. She fondly shoves Ivan off the porch of the orphanage so she can get down. “He’s always joking.”

“What sort of traps?” Ivan asks. He runs a critical eye over your coat and pack. “Will that be warm enough?”

You’re not sure if your coat is warm enough for the weather or not. Another rising power: you’re nearly impervious to the cold. You shrug. “I’ll be fine. And just simple snares and stuff.”

“We can’t wait to see,” Ivan declares. He gestures towards the road. “Lead the way.”

You bite your lip. It’s clear that they knew you were going hunting today by their garb. Both are in sturdy, worn leather with swords on their hips and bows along their backs. They probably heard from Director Sarah and came specifically to make sure you kept your promise not to hunt alone. But… “The other kids will be sorry they missed you.”

“We’ll see them when we return victorious with birthday squirrels,” Ivan says.

“What a sentence,” Marie says dryly.

You aren’t going to convince them to let you go alone. You silently lead the way towards the orchard. Or, rather, as silently as you can. Ivan talks the whole time, asking questions about the apple trees and pointing to ducks flying overhead. You answer the questions you know the answer to and hum whenever you don’t. You wish you knew more about the vegetation, but the most you can tell Ivan is whether or not something is poisonous.

“Those ones,” you say, nodding to the low, circular leaves Mr. Bahr is pointing to, “are tricky. The real ones taste kind of sweet. The other kind that looks like that makes your stomach cramp for three days straight.”

“How can you tell the difference?” Ivan asks.

You shrug. “You can’t. I just tell the younger kids to bring it to me before eating it. Usually, I trade it for something actually edible.”

Marie, trailing behind you both, makes a noise of interest. “Usually?”

You feel your ears go hot. “Sometimes I’ll try it for them just to see if they can eat it. I’ve had enough of the bad one that it doesn’t affect me so much.”

“You try it?” Marie’s voice is sharp. “Isla, there has to be a better way.”

“Not really,” you say. You scratch the back of your head and quicken your step. You’re almost to the tree line of the woods. “The kids like sweet things. If I didn’t give in occasionally, they’d try it themselves. At least this way they check in with me first.”

“I still don’t think—”

“Sounds like Marie and I’ll be bringing some sweets along with us next time,” Ivan interrupts cheerfully. He points past the last apple tree about a dozen feet ahead. “Looks like the path ends there?”

“There’s an animal track about ten feet into the woods,” you say. You’re uncomfortable with Marie’s reaction. You know it’s not smart to eat poisonous plants, but what else were you supposed to do? Your worst fear is that the kids will one day get hungry enough to eat them without caring about the pain. Your shoulders round. “We’ll need to be quiet once we’re there.”

“I’m the best at being quiet,” Ivan says. He elbows Marie. “Right, Marie?”

“Right,” Marie says. Her voice is still a little strained, but you can tell she’s trying to hide it. “That’s why I married you.”

“That’s a lie,” Ivan says. He stage-whispers to you, “She married me for my amazingly dashing good looks.”

Marie huffs a laugh but doesn’t say anything else. You’ve entered the forest.

You were worried on the way that you’d need to tell Ivan that he needs to be quiet in the forest. You needn’t have been concerned. Both adults are silent and walk with quiet steps, their dark eyes alert on their surroundings. They move through the undergrowth gracefully, their years of experience showing in every step. You try to copy Marie’s soft footfalls as best you can and are pleased when your steps get a little quieter.

The Bahrs watch as you pick places for your traps. Ivan silently points to one of your knots, eyebrow raised. Guessing what he’s asking, you undo the knot and then redo it slowly. He nods in satisfaction and then gestures for you to give him the rope. Curiously, you do. Ivan completes the same knot, fingers steady through each step. When he’s done, he presents it to you proudly as if to say, See? I did it!

It makes you do something you very rarely do in the woods. You smile.

After setting the traps you take the Bahrs to your favorite resting spot. The clearing lies just by the edge of the shallow part of the river. About a mile downstream the banks widen and the North River joins this one, making it a dangerous place of rapids. Here, however, the water moves slowly and is shallow enough to be warmed by the sun.

Finally, you speak. “Shouldn’t be too long. Maybe an hour or two and then we can go check on them.”

“Is this where you found the horned rabbit?” Marie asks. You sit on a large, flat rock by the river, but she stays standing. Her eyes carefully scan the perimeter of the clearing.

“Not quite. That was near the hills.” You point. “Fifteen minutes that way.”

“That’s close,” Ivan says. He frowns, concerned. “Was that the first demon you’ve seen here?”

“No.” When the Bahrs turn to you in alarm, you shrug. “Not all the time, but demons come here. They’re usually not interested in me though.”

“But the horned rabbit was?” Marie asks.

Interested is an understatement. You’re not an idiot. You know that demons are dangerous. That’s why you usually avoid them when you spot them. Normally they’re content to let you pass by, but not the horned rabbit. It followed you nearly all the way back to the orchard before you realized you needed to do something before it attacked you. “Yeah.”

“What other types of demons do you see here?” Ivan asks. His voice is light, but he’s looking at you with a very serious expression. “Maybe howling bats?”

“I hear them sometimes,” you say, “but I don’t stick around after dark.” Ivan and Marie exchange dark looks. You fidget on the rock. “What?”

“This is protected land, Isla,” Marie says. She purses her lips. “No demons should be south of those hills.”

“What other types have you seen?” Ivan asks again. He comes to squat by you so he can look you in the eyes. “And when?”

“Just horned rabbits.”

“Are you sure?” Marie asks. She runs a hand over her hair, slicking back the fly aways. “Horned rabbits aren’t usually sighted alone.”

You hesitate. It’s true that the horned rabbits are the only demons you’ve seen, but… “There have been some signs lately, but I don’t know if they’re demons.”

Ivan’s eyes sharpen. “What?”

“Wolves,” you say. Both Bahrs stiffen, hands going to their swords. You speak quickly. “But I’ve never seen them! They might be regular wolves. I found the tracks at the base of the hill, and some bones, but they were a week old probably.”

“We’ll need to ask the Lord to investigate,” Marie tells Ivan. She looks deeply unhappy. “The patrol doesn’t cover this far south.”

“An oversight,” Ivan says grimly. He reaches out absently and ruffles your hair. It startles you, but it feels nice. Ivan makes an effort to smile at you. “Good eyes, Isla. Is there anything else you’ve noticed changing in the forest lately? Even something not demon related?”

Something funny is happening in your chest. Good eyes, Isla. You wrack your brain for anything else. “I haven’t seen any other tracks or anything and there’s only been four or five horned rabbits this season.”

Marie makes a small noise in her throat. When you turn to look at her, she hides whatever expression she’d been making. “That’s a lot. Did you need to use your sharp stick on all of them?”

Ivan startles. “Sharp stick?”

You rub the back of you neck. “Just two.” You look up at the sky. You only had a sharp stick that day, but there are times when you’ve come out here with a knife. Knife days are for when you’re looking for bigger game.  “I’ve been pretty lucky hunting lately, now that I think about it. There’s been more deer and regular rabbits south of the river.”

“What do you mean ‘lately?’”

“The past month.”

Ivan and Marie exchange another long look. Before you can ask them what’s wrong, Ivan turns to you with another smile.

“Say,” he says, “what do you think about trying to bag something bigger than a squirrel today? You ever fire a bow before?”

Your eyes widen. “No.”

“You can use mine,” Marie says, pulling it from her shoulder. She holds it out to you. “We’re nearly the same height. The draw may be a bit heavy for you—or not.”

Embarrassed by the shock in her voice, you release the string. “I’m, uh, stronger than I look.”

“Good,” Ivan says. “That’ll make it easier to actually catch something today.”

The next few hours are the most fun you’ve ever had in the woods. Marie and Ivan go over every part of the bow with you, explaining the weight of it, the flexibility, the length. Marie and Ivan carry several different types of arrows with different tips, all good for different types of shooting. They let you practice on a tree across the river and each time you’re closer to hitting the center of it, they compliment how fast you’re learning, how accurate your eye, how steady and consistent your draw.

By the time they let you hunt with it, you feel like you’re walking on clouds.

The feeling lasts even after you return to the orphanage, a deer slung over Marie’s shoulders and your hands full of squirrel. There’s a pleasant ache in your back and arms from practicing with the bow. You can’t stop smiling. Everything Ivan says is out of the blue and Marie’s tired responses make it all funny.

At one point you’re walking behind them, watching their shoulders brush when the path gets a little too narrow. They’re smiling at each other and talking softly and for a wild, wonderful, awful moment, you imagine that you can keep this. You aren’t sure what this is. Their attention and their companionship, their gentle guidance and the way they speak to you like you’re an adult?

After Hera’s birthday dinner, the Bahrs stay extra late to help clean up and to spend time with the younger kids. You are still feeling a sort of bone deep happiness you’ve never felt before. Everyone is full and sleepy-eyed from the amount of food you were able to put on the table. The kids gather around their slates in the common area, learning a new type of drawing game from Ivan and Marie.

Hera comes up to where you’re leaning on the doorway. Quietly, she slips her hand into yours. You squeeze it.

“Thanks for the squirrel,” she says quietly.

You lean down and press a kiss to the top of her head. “Happy Birthday.”

She hums and watches the fun in the living room for a long moment. She’s eleven now, three years older than you were that Winter. She’s the second oldest in the orphanage and, for the first time, you wonder if she feels the same sort of responsibility as you.

“I’m happy for you, you know,” Hera says.

You make a low questioning noise in your throat.

“The Bahrs will be good to you,” Hera says. She looks up at you evenly, a small smile tucked into the corner of her mouth. “You deserve that, Isla.”

Every muscle in your chest locks, chasing away the pleasant languidness you’d been feeling. “That’s not—they’re not—”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Hera says. She stands on tiptoe so she can throw her arms around your shoulders, hugging you like she did when she was five. She whispers in your ear, “But I would be happy if they did.”

She lets go of you before you can tell her she’s being ridiculous, skipping into the room to join the drawing game.

You feel out of sorts for the rest of the night.

-----------------------.

(part 1) (part 3)

Thanks for reading! The full story is already posted on my Patreon (X)! If you'd like to support me, please consider checking out my page!

This month will be seeing two main things update on Patreon first: Dandelion (x) and my Cinderella story (masterpost coming soon!) updates for both coming later this week!

[nabi-unveiled]

Need a fabulous assistant to steer your ship?

We've got those in spades right now in the BLverse. Pick your flavor.

Chakri from The Next Prince

Expression King who will work tirelessly on behalf of your bratty self to teach you royal protocol and make sure you look fabulous.

Chakri is working behind the scenes to help you find the loopholes so you can get your bodyguard and all of the sponsors' products.

Wenai from Reset

The man that definitely does not get paid enough for the curveballs his lovesick boss throws his way.

But that doesn't stop this stan for a minute. He's got his glove ready at all times to play catch.

You better damn well believe Wenai's going to take action to get this ship sailing. He's an efficient man, and his effort will NOT be wasted.

Janine from Reset

Janine WILL judge you....fiercely.

But no one will get room to pull a fast one on you.

And you won't be allowed to wallow in your self pity and miss the good stuff in life.

For when the going gets tough, the tough (Janine) get you going on a plane to apologize to your man.

Li Gang from Revenged Love (Chi Cheng's lackey)

Everyone else might be scared of you, but this man not only supports your wrongs but actively encourages them.

However, he can tell when you've got a good thing going.

So he'll help you rescue your snakes and scheme with your boy to get this relationship solidified.

Li Wang from Revenged Love (Guo Chengyu's lackey)

This man's going to be chill about things and joke around with you.

After all, he is a walking innuendo with his carrots and bananas.

But never fear...he'll run your errands. He has your back AND he has the gossip.

So which flavor do I want? Honestly? Any and all of them. I can take all of the help I can get.

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

Hey writer friends! There's a fun, all-fandom, writing/art event taking place for fall. Cozytober! This is their second year and since they don't have a tumblr page, I thought I'd share the prompts!

For anyone participating in any of the other big fall events (@sicktember @whumptober @flufftober ) these prompts actually meld really well with those.

For more information about Cozytober rules, as well as a text version of the prompts, check out their AO3 Collection page [Here]

Happy writing!!

[cherry-pop-elf]

Kiss it Better Pt:3

Curly x Reader

AN: I am just speechless. All this support is making me tear up. Like holy shit. Thank you. Don’t worry! When this finishes(god idk how it will I’m making up as I go since yall want more chapters) I’ll make sure to post it to AO3 for easier access! Just thank you again! And uh. Don’t forget I have a Kofi and Wishlist if you wanna like tip or something. NO PRESSURE! Just a reminder to anyone who WANTS and CAN! You come first! Just. Thank you again!

SUM: You couldn’t sleep, so you try and remember things with Curly to lull you to sleep. As you do, you remember things that are important for a captain to have. Very important, and you are gonna be certain to find them

Warnings: Jimmy, sexual assault, mentions of abortion (it’s a rather calm chapter really. Take it as a pallet cleanser because the next chapter imma really show you how fucked up Jimmy is))

You just couldn’t sleep. It felt criminal to right now. So much was going through your head. So much has happened and now you had time to let it all soak in. The crash, Anya, why there was a crash, Curly’s condition, it made sleep impossible. Especially alone in that big bed that was meant for you and your husband.

You tried to take in deep breaths, and just let the thoughts wash over you. There was responsibility as the Captains Spouse. You weren’t just ‘eye candy’ like Jimmy said. You had worth, and were just as much important to the team as everyone else.

Such as learning a thing or two about what Captain should do in case of an emergency.

Curly was in no state to help, and Jimmy sure as fuck won’t help either. He was the reason everyone crashed after all. He’s a loose cannon and you needed to tip toe around him. Who knows what he might do next. You weren’t even sure if telling Swansea and Daisuke about what’s going on was smart.

Swansea has little girls of his own after all. He won’t react well at all. Then there’s Daisuke. Barely nineteen and thrown into this mess. He might panic or maybe even do something crazy like confront Jimmy. There was just to many what ifs.

So you were left on your own.

You would wrap yourself up in what was once Curly’s sleep robe and grab his spare ID card. The very thing that can unlock any door, and be the one thing that can lock your bedroom door. Definitely should have Anya sleep in here for a while. She deserves to be able to sleep soundly.

While you were waiting for everyone to sleep as well you would explore the bedroom. Looking into nook and cranny to see if there was anything of use. The Captains always were given a bunch of extra shit after all. Even Pony Express had to meet some safety protocols. Curly was their best after all. Even went as far as to try and help him fine work else where. That’s what he explained to you.

Shame. Was just a normal bedroom. The only thing that made it special was it was bigger, and had a lock. Dammit all to hell.

That’s when you tried to think back on past memories of you and your husband. To try and recall any kind of special thing the ships carry. Oh how you felt so guilty for never paying enough attention. Made you feel stupid and useless, but you weren’t.

At least not in comparison to Jimmy.

With a deep breath, you managed to recall something. Something not long before the crash even. You had knocked on the cockpit door to enter it, and was greeted to your husband and Jimmy working. Curly was rambling on about something, while Jimmy kept eyeing the locker suspiciously. As if he wanted to get inside of it for some reason.

That’s your best lead now. God dammit was it a shitty one. The cockpit was stuffed to the brim with foam. But then again that’s the front of the cockpit. If you were careful, and cut the right spot, maybe you can access the locker.

It’s something. Something is better than nothing.

With the robe tossed aside, a change into your jump suit, gloves slipped on, and beanie pulled on to keep your head safe you would make your way to the kitchen. Card key tucked securely inside of your jumpsuit compared to a pocket.

Jimmy can’t know.

Can’t know that you were stealing the only knife that the ship had.

Was going to be a pain in the ass to cut that foam but you really had nothing better to do. So, you unlocked the cock pit and focused on remembering its layout.

“For Anya, for Curly, for Swansea, for Daisuke, and all our families back home.”

You would start the slow and agonizing cutting. Little by little. Just chopping away to try and reach the right side of the pit. To get to that locker and see what was inside. That locker was in the cockpit for a reason. It can only be accessed by the pilots for a reason. There was a reason.

Any time you felt like your arms would give out you thought back to Curly. How he didn’t really have arms anymore to begin with. How Anya was busy throwing up right now. How they needed you. They both needed you.

It had been well over a hour, but you managed to reach the locker. You allowed yourself a breather at the sight of it. Damn was that a pain, but it’ll be worth it. Right?

With your breather over you would use the key card to access the locker. Inside was….Honestly junk. That had you very disappointed. You were honestly ready to cry out of frustration, only to see there were a few locked cabinets inside.

Ones that needed codes.

Codes you knew.

Curly made you memorize them in case of an emergency. He just said to memorize them. That it’s meant to just unlock pin pads. That Pony Express never bothered to change them.

You went to the lower locker and typed it in.

Strange, there was nothing inside. Suppose whatever was inside was taken out. You wondered what could have been in there. Was a very small locker so maybe it was some code scanner or universal unlocking device. Just wasn’t big enough for something you hoped for.

A transmitter.

He prayed it was near the front of the ship. That a transmitter would stuck in the heart of the foam, or as far as just shatter on contact. They had to have a spare communicator. Pony Express had to follow SOME rules after all. Imagine the ship being discovered and the people who found it saw it was missing something as important as that.

So you typed in the code for the larger locker. You were kinda afraid of opening it. To be met with another empty void of metal and dust.

You took a deep breath, and opened.

There really was a god.

There was what you were looking for. A real deal communicator. It was real, it looked untouched and even had dust on it to show that Jimmy never reached it.

Before you grabbed it you made sure to close the door behind you. Just to be sure. Was the dead of night, well from what the clocks say, and everyone should be asleep. Even Jimmy had to sleep. You had to make you move now.

Remain calm, and focus.

You can’t fuck this up.

You snuggled yourself into the corner of the pit, with the communication device in your lap. You hooked the head phones onto your head, and turned it on.

As you waited for it to boot up you made sure you were positioned so that if anyone came through the door, for some reason, you’ll notice. As far as anyone was aware though this room was basically a wall. No purpose to enter. You should be safe, but you had to think ahead. Jimmy was unpredictable, and so full of himself.

Better to be over prepared than see what happens if Jimmy finds out what you are doing.

Couldn’t help but give a squeak of surprise when someone finally spoke to you.

“This is the Emergency Spaceship Retrieval Sector. What seems to be the problem?”

A woman, through the static, spoke to you. Tears of relief fell down your face but you forced yourself to remain focused. You can’t mess this up now. No way no how.

“This is Tulpar for Pony Express. We have suffered a crash about a month ago. From what I can recall we had been a little over four months into our twelve month journey-“ You immediately explained, as to best help them get an estimation on how far the ship had traveled.

“Alright, who may I be speaking to at this moment?”

Deep breaths.

“I am the Spouse to Captain Curly. It is me, Jimmy the co-pilot, Anya the nurse, Swansea the mechanic, and Daisuke our intern.” Deep breaths, keep things quick and to the point.

“Are you all in any immediate danger?”

You had to think about that a moment. Jimmy is a dangerous man. Who knows what he might do next if you don’t play along. So, you had to be honest. You felt guilty for telling the operator what happened. That Curly suffered greatly and needed immediate medical attention, how Anya was a victim of assault and required an abortion as soon as possible, and that the reason for it all was because of Jimmy. He crashed the ship, he raped Anya, he destroyed Curly, and god knows what he will do next.

“Estimated arrival time will be about a month. We have your exact location thanks to the communicator. Remain calm, and know that help is on the way. We have logged this down in the report. Take care of your crew the best you can, Captain.”

And she would log off. You would let your head thump back, and simply cried. Cried in pure relief and joy. That a real person heard you, and was aware of what’s going on. That if anything did go wrong that at least someone knows. Someone will know what happened.

There was hope.

Now was a matter of survival.

One month.

You all needed to survive one month.

One Month Until Rescue…

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