#slides this onto the dash and then FLEES

[idontcaboose]

Haunted car au part 9

Previous Masterpost

“O, please tell me someone is close by?” Red Robin hissed into his comm.

“Batman and Signal are on the way, 6 blocks out.”

“Neat, see if they can use the 109th st entrance, I will try to lead my goons that way.”

“Rerouting their gps, stay safe RR.”

Tim wasn't sure how to stay safe with a bullet wound in his leg, and a few grazes across his body. Part of the job he supposes. He wasn't sure which god or entity was enjoying his struggle, but he would not hesitate to smack them in the face with his bō. Tim took a small breather after losing his followers for a moment. His leg has a hole, his arms couldn't keep a strong grip on his grapple, not that it really mattered. A goon got an extremely lucky shot and destroyed the thing. So, grounded, with a barely functioning leg, and about 15 goons, and if the leaders of the group didn't flee already, then them too, looking for him. Not great odds. Oracle said Batman and Signal were on their way, and hopefully heading to the street closest to him that would work for some form of ambush.

“I'll go out a bit early, they won't be expecting it. Nah, they only set up to catch Signal, you know, the meta. The meta that can all but shadow step like a freaking d&d character. Such a great plan Tim.” Tim had started to mutter to himself as he attempted to tie on a better bandage to his leg than the slap dash one he did while on the move. He was just done securing it when a goon appeared.

“I found some blood over here!”

Tim almost screamed expletives on par with Jason or Duke, but he had some self preservation.

“ETA, hopefully it's NOW?!” Tim growled onto the comms.

“We are set up Red Robin, bring them through.” Tim could have cried in relief at Batman's voice, but he had some goons to lead.

Tim ran, not bothering to hide as he did. Luckily the goons did not think about surrounding the alley he was in, and they followed blindly into the bat's trap. He trusted that Bruce and Duke could handle the group, and limped to the Batmobile. It wasn't until Tim got to the driver's side passenger door did the universe have one last laugh at him.

“Well, well, we'll. Let's make a deal, little red bird.” Out of all the people to corner Tim, it had to have been the wannabe leader of the small time gang.

“Depends, is the deal you turn yourself in?” Tim automatically snarked.

“Nah, open the Batmobile, or I shoot you here.” The man sneered.

“Fine, fine.” Tim opened the driver's door and scooted away, his hands away from his sides.

“Good, keep backing up Red.”

Once Red Robin was far enough for the man, he turned and went to get into the car, only for the door to close on the man repeatedly. Tim could not help but just watch as the car kept smacking the guy until he managed to get into the seat. Unfortunately for the gang leader his hand was not fast enough and got slammed between the door and frame. Based on the crack and responding scream, the hand was very much broken. With a last open and close, the engine started, and the Batmobile drove straight into the group of goons and vigilantes.

Tim watched in morbid curiosity as Batman and Signal heard the car roaring towards them. Watched as they grappled upwards with just a small moment from them getting run over. Watched as 3 goons did not have time to move out of the way and got tossed onto the hood, only to slide off at the jerky stop of the car. It wasn't until Batman barked “Report.” over the comms did Tim snap out of his daze.

“The leader of the gang got into the Batmobile, and proceeded to try to run you guys over.” Tim slowly responded. “He held me at gunpoint and I couldn't move fast enough to do anything but let him. How did the failsafes fail at keeping him from driving?” Tim's voice petered out with the question.

The car door then slammed open and the leader fell out of the seat, and tried to scramble as far from the car as he could. It didn't take long for Batman to grab the man for questioning.

“Hey man, you good to move?” Tim startled when Duke appeared in front of him.

“Ya, ya. I have a GSW to my right calf, got grazed a few times in different places, possibly going into shock.” Tim dutifully reported.

“Got it, up and at ‘em.”

Duke carefully walked Tim to the Batmobile and settled him into the back seats, tightened the bandage on his leg, and put bandages on his other wounds. It wasn't until Duke went to go help Batman clean up and triage the remaining goons did he say something strange.

“Stay put, Red Robin. Keep him safe ok?” With the second request, Duke patted the driver's seat and left him alone in the car.

“What?”

Next

@kizzer55555 @sebas-nights @candeartist422 @trappednyourheart @fandom-life-corrupted-me @tkiesai @2lbballpeenhammer @admiralwidow @rewrittenwrongs @whotfevenknowsanymore @symmetricalastigmatism

@thespacedragons

@atinygracie @okami-love

@lesbian-spider-drone @1n0sss @forgetmenot-bluepurple

[distilledmelancholy]

Nightlight

You, the reader, are afraid of the dark, and during a thunderstorm the power goes out!

1.9k words

Cw: I did not beta read this we die like MEN

Instead of the usual gentle pitter patter of a gentle rain shower, there are raging bullets pelting the window. Flashes of occasional blinding white light, and then thunderous booms echoing through the dark sky. Your house was dark, except for a few miscellaneous nightlights you have set on in the room. Storms didn’t scare you at all. In fact, the flashes of lightning were almost welcome, as it helped illuminate your room far better than any number of nightlights could. You appreciated anything that would help your room not be completely dark. 

You begin to drift off, tucked into warm, thick blankets with the comforting sound of rain and thunder. Just as you are about to succumb to slumber, an ear shattering boom shakes your house, causing your light fixtures to physically shake from their place on the ceiling. In a second, the nightlights you had scattered in your room die out, plunging your room into complete darkness. You can’t stop yourself from letting out a scream, from both the surprisingly loud thunder, and from being forced into the dark. You whimper as you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to pretend like the lights didn’t just go out. 

Fall asleep. Fall asleep. Please, just fall asleep. 

You lay there for a few moments, before opening your eyes again. You can’t help but feel like you’re being watched as you strain your eyes to make out any shapes in the dark. Maybe a glass of water will help, you reason with yourself. You feel around on your bedside table and feel for the drawer. You slide it open and stick your hand in, searching for your flashlight. Once you locate it, you flip the switch and a beam of light shoots from its front. You shine your flashlight around your room, warily checking the corners and dark spots in the room. Satisfied, you get up from your bed, slip on your slippers and make your way out of your room, down the hallway, and to the kitchen. 

The darkness looms around you as you warily make your way to the cupboard for a cup. You could almost swear you heard something as you whipped around, panicked. You scan the flashlight around the room, looking for the source of the noise. When you see nothing, you release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. You reach into your cupboard and pull out a cup and turn on the tap to fill the cup when lightning flashes and you swore you saw something out of the corner of your eye. You whip around once again, watching the darkness. Another flash and you see a tall, lanky, dark figure standing in the corner, watching you.

You instinctively let out a shriek, dropping the glass cup in your hand and stumbling back, falling onto the floor in fear as you try to back away from the creature. In your panic you didn’t notice the shards of glass impaling themselves into your skin as you slid yourself across the floor. You desperately reach up to the counter to pull yourself up and feel around for your flashlight, but to your horror you cannot find it. With your adrenaline in overdrive, you make a mad dash to what you think might be your front door, willing to do anything to get away from the creature that has made its way into your home. You end up running full force into the door, crushing your nose and stunning you for a moment, before you shakily feel for the doorknob, and fling the door open.

You are immediately greeted by the full force of a raging storm, the wind and rain now coming inside. Head reeling, now feeling a wetness run down from your nose, you set out into the storm, in just your pajamas and slippers. You can’t even feel the tears on your face due to the intense downpour as you flee across your yard, in a random direction.

It felt like the rain was drowning you. It was so hard to breathe from the sheer terror coursing through your veins mixed with the tsunami coming down on top of you, which chilled you to the bone. Slowing down to catch your breath for a moment, you slipped on a big pile of mud (which was basically the whole yard) and fell backwards, onto your butt. You let out a cry of pain as you catch yourself with your hands, now feeling the glass shards that are still embedded in your skin.

You can’t help but let out a pitiful wail as you try to push yourself up again, hoping that somehow, somebody will hear you and come to your rescue. And your prayers were answered.

“…Y/N!”

Huh? You could have sworn you heard something. You lift your head and look up, trying to make out anything in the storm.

“Y/N!” You heard it again, but clearer this time.

You look towards the voice and see none other than Wally Darling! He’s running towards you! He quickly makes his way to your side, and helps lift you off the ground, before throwing one of your arms around his shoulder and marching you towards his house. Your legs feel like jelly, and every step you take exhausts you. The adrenaline you felt before worn off, and now you regret even doing this to yourself in the first place. All because of some stupid shadow.

As soon as you get close to Home, it swings the front door wide open so Wally can help you through the door.

“…How… how did you find me?” You ask, shakily sitting down when Wally guided you to the couch.

“Oh, my goodness…” He said, cupping your face, “You’re bloody.” He stated with a look of great concern and even a little bit of fear.

He quickly makes his way out of the room, leaving you sitting on the couch, trying to take everything in. You had a splitting headache, and you felt incredibly weak, like you would just fall over any minute. Wally returns with a first aid kit, and a towel. You didn't realize you were trembling until he wrapped the towel around you.

"Y/N!" Wally waves his hand in front of your face.

You look at him and he repeats himself, "I asked what happened? Why were you outside in this storm? In your pajamas no less?"

You just looked away and shrugged your shoulders slightly, not having any energy. Wally lets out a sigh before opening his first aid kit and begins wiping the blood from your face, and where it dripped onto your neck. He sets the damp washcloth to the side, turning your face to the side with his hand to inspect for any other injury.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" he asks gently, pushing your wet hair out of your face.

You hold out your hands and show him your palms. His pupils dilate and a horrified gasp escapes from his mouth. He makes quick work of extracting the glass, and then disinfecting the wounds and cleaning them of mud and grass. He then tightly wraps your hands with bandages and gathers all the dirty medical supplies and disposes of them.

He then makes his way out of the room again. A moment later he returns, with a fresh washcloth, and extra clothes. He sets them on the couch next to you.

“Here, you can clean yourself up in the bathroom and change.”

You gather everything in your hands and head to where Wally pointed and close the door and lock it when you make it to the bathroom. You peel off your soaking, mud-soaked clothes and begin to wipe yourself off with the damp washcloth. You then put on the spare pajamas that Wally had brought out to you, which were a little too big for you. You fold up your muddy clothes and leave them in a neat pile in the corner of the bathroom. You take a towel and begin drying off your hair.

Once it’s not dripping wet, you fold the towel and set it on your pile of dirty clothes. You then make your way out of the bathroom, and back to the living room, where Wally is waiting for you. You have calmed down enough now to notice that it seems his power has gone out too, as there are a few candles and lanterns set up to help illuminate the room.

���Will you tell me why you were outside, neighbor?” Wally asked, tilting his head.

“I…” you begin to speak, but the fear of what you thought you saw in your house comes back, “I-I thought… It was so dark…” you manage to choke out, tears filling your eyes.

Wally immediately notices your distress, and gently guides you back to the couch, and he sits down with you. As tears begin to fall down your face, he soothingly rubs a hand on your back, encouraging you to continue.

“The dark… it terrifies me. I had nightlights in my room, but the power went out. I couldn’t sleep so I went to get some water, but then I thought I saw something!” you cried, “standing in the corner, watching me… I dropped my cup and fell on it, and then I got so scared I ran outside!” you began to tremble recalling the events.

Wally scoots closer to you and rests his head on your shoulder, still rubbing your back. “Next time you get scared, come over to Home. We will keep you safe…”

You sniffled and wrapped your arms around Wally, bringing him into a tight embrace.

“You must be very tired, neighbor,” Wally said, not pulling away from the embrace, “you should go back to bed. You can sleep in my bed.”

At the mention of sleeping, you can’t help but let a big yawn escape you. You do feel tired, both physically and emotionally. You nod and Wally takes your hand, guiding you from the couch and up the stairs towards his bedroom. He brings in an electronic lantern and switches it on and sets it on the bedside table.

“Here, this can be your nightlight.” He said as he looked over to you, and patted the bed, “come on, bedtime!”

You made your way over to Wally’s bed and tucked yourself in under the covers.

Wally tilts his head at you, “Is there anything else you need?”

You hesitated for a moment, before moving over to the side of the bed and patting the empty space next to you. Wally immediately sits on the bed and looks at you.

“Will you… stay with me tonight?” you shyly ask.

Wally’s pupils dilate in surprise, and you thought you saw his face go a little pink.

“Of course, anything you need,” he said and slowly slid into bed next to you, being as close to his edge of the bed as possible.

“Thank you, Wally,” you turn on your side and look at him, “It’s nice to not be alone after a rough night.”

Wally turns on his side to face you. He’s quiet for a moment before speaking, “goodnight (Y/N),” he murmured.

“Goodnight Wally,” you smile and wrap an arm around his body and pull him closer.

This elicits a small squeak of surprise from him as you wrap yourself around him and cuddle into him. Wally stares at you with big eyes, and a pink face. You let out a long sigh as you listen to the therapeutic sound of rain hitting the window, and the occasional thunder booming. You close your eyes and allow sleep to take you.

[sunflower-reaper]

slides this onto the dash and flees

[mayflysdie]

run baby run, run for your life.

I did not proof-read this. I wrote this while in class lol.

I was thinking about making it a smutty fic but I don't think my writing is good enough for that - oof.

Warnings: dark themes. (lmk if I need to add anything to this)

His brown eyes contain a primal darkness, hidden by his mask. However, his eyes tell a story of a strong and dangerous passion that captures me with its sinister hold. His head gives a little tilt as his gaze lulls away. Then, his shoulders pull back and his eyes stare into mine; a chill runs down my spine and the alarms in my mind ringing.

He stands nonchalantly against the wall, with his arms folded across his chest. His pose gives off a clear warning - he is a predator stalking its prey, and I realize that this prey is me.

He indulges in this ritual every now and then, especially when he has been away on prolonged deployments. He seems almost driven by an instinctive craving; a hunger to hunt and possess me.

With inexorable intensity, he stalks me like a wolf, relishing every moment of the pursuit. His delight only intensifies as he sees me scamper before him, shying away from his advances. Gripping me ever tighter in his grasp, he finally makes the kill - and mine is a fate that cannot be escaped. a clear game of Wolf and Rabbit. 

He looms, a seasoned hunter, quietly observant of my every movement. His predatory gaze piercing each fiber of my being, honing itself with anticipation for the impending strike. Awaiting my signal, to ignite the chase.

My gaze sweeps the room, seeking an optimal course of action for fleeing. A flood of adrenaline and fear pulsates through my veins, coaxing me to make a dash away, yet my inner voice vehemently advises otherwise, cautioning me that any sudden movement will set off a pursuit.

“Run baby, run for your life. i’m going to tear out your heart and it will always be mine”

Like a wolf's final growl of warning, fear rains down my spine and propelled me into action. I leapt over the couch, hurrying towards the backdoor. Thankfully, the sliding door was already ajar which granted me a swift escape route. Not wanting to linger, I sprint outdoors without sparing a backward glance. The sound of the boots pursuing me made abundantly clear how near the predator was.

The rapid strides that I took brought me to our backyard, through the shrubs and into the depths of the woods. He was close behind me, running at the same speed. The only thing reverberating in the night air beneath the pitch-black sky were the steady rhythm of my feet and his heavy breath.

as if the wolf turned into the grim reaper, an intense and eerie air has pervaded me from the back. I can feel my neck hairs standing on end, as if a hand is attempting to encircle it. My heart rate has accelerated, realizing the finality of the situation.

"you're mine"

A faint whimper escapes me as strong arms are wrapped around my waist, lifting me up. He quickly readjusts his arm so one is still holding me securely around my waist, while the other gently covers my eyes. I can feel his hot breath fanning against my neck, even through his face mask. The combination of tobacco and a woodsy scent fills my nostrils.

I shudder, my senses in overdrive as his hands cover my eyes. Trembling, I call out for Simon, and after some time he removes them from me. He spins me around, and before I have a chance to blink I'm met with a hard surface at my back and his hungry gaze upon me.His bulky physique restraining me against the trunk of the tree, his hands on either side of my head. I slowly raise my arms and remove his mask, unveiling a look of unrestrained desire. without wasting a moment, his lips attach to my neck. hungrily nipping and biting down. i whimper as the bite is sure to draw blood. I clutch handfuls of his tactical vest, my fingers needing something to hold onto for stability.

He slowly draws back from my neck, gazing deeply into my eyes with a menacing grin on his face, his lips inches away from mine.

" you will always be mine"

[whimsicaltales]

The Art of Survival

18+ | MDNI | Content Warnings

The grim reality of my new existence dawns on me: I must learn to consume blood to survive.

Cautiously, I peek into the hallway, ensuring it’s deserted. Satisfied with its emptiness, I step out, and turn towards my door. My fingers fumbled with the lock. Then I saw it: the doorknob, twisted like a discarded soda can. Not like that before, was it? Eager to avoid any encounters, I hurry down the hall, making a mental note to address the damaged handle later.

As I approach the complex's entrance, I'm confronted by bright sunlight streaming through the glass door. A wave of uncertainty washes over me. I never thought about sunlight exposure.

Recalling vampire lore from movies, where they combust or disintegrate in daylight, I tentatively extend my hand into the light. Nothing happens. Emboldened, I stretch my arm further. Still, no reaction. With growing confidence, I step fully into the light, relieved to find I neither melt nor burst into flames.

I push open the door with unexpected ease. It swung back with surprising force, the hinges groaning a violent protest. The entrance to the apartment complex has always been notoriously heavy, but I’m too caught up in the relief of stepping into the sunlight to give it much thought. The warmth of the sun on my skin was a welcomed feeling. I inhale deeply, drawing in the fresh air, trying to savor the moment.

But the air wasn't fresh. It was thick, cloying, alive. A flood of scents hit me all at once—a butcher's shop down the street, sweat lingered in the air behind a jogger, the subtle musk of fear clinging to a woman clutching her purse. And beneath it all, a pulse, a thrumming undercurrent of iron and salt, blood. My senses screamed in response, a primal hunger tearing through me, eclipsing everything else.

My fangs ached to lengthen, my muscles tensed, ready to spring. Control yourself, I snarled inwardly, the command a desperate plea against the rising tide of bloodlust. My knuckles were white as I clenched my hands to my sides. I needed to get away. The sunlight was no longer a comfort, but a blinding reminder of everything I had lost.

Panic grips me as I realize I might attack someone. I dash to my car in the parking lot, my heart racing. As I yank the door handle, it comes off in my hand with alarming ease. "Damn it," I mutter, quickly snatching up the broken piece and sliding into the driver's seat. I make a conscious effort to close the door gently.

The realization hits me: my strength has been enhanced. I examine my hands, suddenly aware that I'll need to be cautious to avoid breaking everything I touch.

Desperate for seclusion, I hastily search for the nearest national park on my phone. The secluded wilderness should offer a safer space to explore my new abilities and satisfy my… unusual hunger.

A cold dread washed over me. Blood. The word tasted like ash in my mouth. I shoved the feeling down, Angeles National Park is just minutes away. I pull out of my parking spot and set off, my mind racing with anticipation and dread.

༺ ��� ༻

Having devoted most of the day to mastering the intricacies of blood consumption—a thought that still makes me shudder—I've finally grasped the subtleties of feeding without harming my prey.

My newfound strength felt alien, a foreign presence within my own body. I had to relearn every movement, every action, as if I were a child again, fumbling with simple tasks. Back at my apartment, I replace the door knob with the new one I picked up from the hardware store. Once complete, I collapse onto my couch, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

So, I was strong, thirsty, and… sun-tolerant? At least that was a small victory. But how did any of this work in the real world? Did vampires get driver's licenses? Did they file taxes? The sheer absurdity of it all threatened to overwhelm me. Maybe a fresh start was the answer. Flee to a remote cabin, live off wild animals… The thought flickered and died. I couldn't do that to Mom, to Chris. They were my anchor, my last connection to my old life. I released a shaky breath, feeling lost and adrift in a world that no longer made sense.

As fatigue sets in, I close my eyes and drift off to sleep.

[stonegoesgodmode]

Welcome ladies, gentlemen, and the those outside of the binary! May I have the honor of presenting to you! The first chapter of Feathers Ember's! I have been procrastinating posting this. It has been probably a week since I finished this chapter. I am in the process of editing the next chapter of mine and Rach's roleplay. When will I get it out? Absolutely no clue! 2372 words!

Chapter One

A Hero and a Vigilante

The sun casts its bright light over the city of Hermitcraft. The sound of machines and flying arrows was all that could be heard on Perimeter Street. The Doctor and Hot Guy fought, pavement getting torn up. Helicopters broadcasted the fight.

Hot Guy knocks another arrow and lets it fly at The Doctor. “Just get Hot Guyed already!”

“You really think such a primitive weapon can defeat me!” The Doctor yells out as he raises his robotic arm to block the arrow.

As the fight escalates, a presence appears on top of one of the taller buildings. The man leans over the edge with his wings out for balance as he analyzes the fight. If things got worse, the new vigilante was certain he’d have the chance to step in and make his debut. Good and evil kept clashing, arrows and lasers flying.

“Ready to admit defeat yet!?” rang out The Doctor’s voice as he exchanged the cartridge in his blaster.

Hot Guy reached back to his quiver for another arrow, “Never!” He felt around for another arrow only to find that he had run out, a quiet, “Oh no,” falling from his lips.

"I guess this is it then." The Doctor raises his blaster, aiming for Hot Guy's head.

Xelqua leaps off of the building, letting his wings extend to slow his descent. With what speed he did have, Xelqua moves into a stiletto kick. He knocks the blaster from The Doctor's hand with speed. Boots slide on the asphalt, slowing Xelqua to a stop. He readies himself, violet eyes taking in the situation.

The Doctor grabs his wrist before calling out, “Whose bird is this?!?”

After watching the newcomer for a second, the elven hero realizes it's his chance to gather up some arrows, quickly getting to work doing so. The news helicopters turn their attention to Xelqua.

Xelqua looks up as the helicopter lights shine on him, giving a grin towards where he hopes the camera is. He pushes off of the ground and dashes towards The Doctor, lunging and grabbing at his coat in hopes of knocking him down. What Xelqua lacks in weight he makes up for in velocity.

The Doctor makes attempts to pry the bird off. An arrow ricochets off a mechanical part, so close to hitting flesh. Hot Guy readies another arrow, climbing on top of an abandoned car for a better angle.

Xelqua then drops himself, grabbing the end of The Doctor’s coat and running a circle around him before pulling the coat, sending The Doctor spinning. The Doctor almost falls over as he attempts to regain balance. The whole thing is really a sight to see.

Hot Guy sends another arrow at The Doctor, piercing the goat’s side, leaving him unable to fight. Xelqua pulls out a bow, one structured differently for Hot Guys, and knocks an arrow drawing back. Hot Guy’s eyes land on the avian.

The Doctor drags himself up, taking Xelqua’s aimed arrow as a silent threat to leaving. He takes off with his jetpack, which is covered in butterfly stickers, and flees.

Xelqua lowers his bow, watching The Doctor go. He then places his arrow back in its quiver on his leg, and presses a button on the bow which collapses it. Xelqua gives a blank glance to Hot Guy, then spreads his wings to take off.

“Hey! Wait!” Hot Guy tries to go after Xelqua but gets swarmed by people wanting to interview him. Xelqua disappears over a building without a word, quickly escaping the sights of the helicopters. After the crowd clears, Hot Guy picks up a feather that was left behind. “Who was that..?”

Hot Guy places the feather into his side bag. Aiming his grappling gun, he fires, letting the device pull him up onto the building next to him. Whether Hot Guy decided to find the new guy tonight or next patrol, there was definitely a conversation to be had.

Hot Guy pulls out his communicator and calls up his support team. “Did you catch where the bird went?”

“No, he is off the radar.”

“Ending my patrol for the day, contact me if you come up with anything.” Hot Guy puts away his communicator and checks the time.

Ah, right, the cafe stock. He is late to pick it up. The new partnership with the bakery that just opened, Dreamland Bakery, would be selling a good portion of their products to the cafe in order to promote itself. According to the contract, the owner of the bakery was a man named Grian Dreamslayer.

Hot Guy hops into his car that was parked in a nearby alleyway. He changes out of his suit and into a set of normal clothes.

Finally, Scar made it to the bakery. He was an hour late, not a good first impression. He lets the bakery doors close behind him, saying a simple, “Hello,” as a simple greeting.

A rather short blonde man in a bright red sweater and pink apron looks up from behind one of the bakery displays. He gives a warm smile, his eyes seemingly magnified by his round glasses. "Welcome!" He chirps, "Is there anything you're looking for?"

Scar approaches the counter, scratching the back of his head. “Sorry about being late, but I am the owner of the GoodTimes Cafe. I got stuck in traffic.”

The man frowns in thought, then smiles. "Ohh, Scar Goodtimes! Pleased to make your acquaintance. I understand the streets of Hermitcraft can be rough.. especially with those heroes and villains about." The man, presumably Grian, wrinkles his nose in dissatisfaction, then returns to smiling. "Oh, it's Grian, by the way. Grian Dreamslayer."

“It's a pleasure to make you acquainted as well. Finding good bakeries is getting harder and harder these days.” Scar returns Grian’s smile with one of his own.

"Well luckily enough, I pride myself on authenticity rather than mass product. You'll find nothing but grade A quality here, Mr. Goodtimes," Grian reassures.

“From what I've heard about your bakery, I'm sure your products are high quality.”

"Now about that pickup.. It's in the back." Grian turns and opens the little door from behind the counter, "Come on back!"

Scar follows the baker, glancing around. “This is a nice place you have here.”

Grian opens a door and hums in acknowledgement, "I definitely pride myself on it." He goes towards a counter where some refrigerated boxes are.

“I can say, everything certainly smells good,” Scar takes a deep breath, “definitely smells like a bakery in here.”

Grian laughs and grabs a clipboard, jotting some stuff down. "You seem like a good person, I hope I made the right choice in partnering with you.

“No one has regretted a partnership with me so far. That certainly is something.” Scar does a thumbs up.

Grian presents the clipboard to Scar and holds out the pen, “Sign here please.”

Scar takes and signs the papers as Grian lifts one of the boxes. Usually they would be quite heavy since they have technology to be cooled.

”Where is your vehicle?” Grian asks, the short man seeming to not struggle with the weight.

“It’s in the parking lot just across the street.” Scar sets the clipboard down. “Do you need some help?”

Grian looks over at the remaining boxed, “If you could carry one then that would be great.”

“I can grab one.” Scar goes over and grabs a box, surprised that the baker could even lift one of the boxes. One box alone was really heavy.

Grian stands on his toes and places his box on the remaining box, then lifts both up. He heads towards the back door and pushes it open with his foot. Scar follows, even more perplexed. At his car he sets the box down and opens the trunk.

Grian places down the other two boxes. He shakes his arms out from the strain of carrying them. "Whew- y'know maybe I should've made two trips.”

“Two trips would have been smart.” Scar sets the box he was carrying down and opens the trunk of his car. He moves a Hot Guy plush to the side to make room before putting the box he carried out inside.

"Thanks. Moving stuff into the bakery really taught me how to lift heavy," he claims. Grian then spots the plush. "Ohh, a fan of Hot Guy, huh?"

“Me, a Hot Guy fan? Nah.” Scar places the two boxes that Grian carried out into the trunk with the first. “I just happened to have merch- That's all.”

"I don't judge." He looks to Scar, then back at the plushie. "Disregard my statement, I do judge, the glasses are the wrong shape." Grian gestures to the fabric glasses on the plush.

“That is not a me problem, that is a who made it’s problem.” Scar picks up the Hot Guy plush, looking into the visor. “It also doesn’t have eyes.”

Grian lets out a laugh, “I heard that if enough people bully the company, they fix future merch. Not that I would really care for Hot Guy merch all that much.” He then turns his head towards the bakery. “I’m too busy running a brand new business.”

“Business first, right?” Scar waves at Grian with a smile. “See you next time.”

Grian waves back, “Great meeting you!” He walks back across the street to the Dreamland Bakery.

“Interesting dude.” Scar closes the trunk and climbs into the diver seat of his car before driving off.

Grian enters his bakery, and as it's late, he turns the sign to ‘closed’ as the last two patrons leave. He heads towards the back after locking the door and turning out the lights, then he removes his sweater. Two wing-shaped tattoos peel off from the open-back top Grian had underneath the sweater, and small wings sprout the same way on the sides of his head. Grian folds his civilian outfit after changing and he slips Xelqua's boots on, and he leaves out through the alleyway behind the bakery. He takes off into the evening.

Scar gets the baked goods to his cafe. Glancing over at his communicator he sees a new message. The bird was spotted at Entity park. He quickly changes and makes his way to the location, hoping he doesn't miss the bird.

When Hot Guy gets to the park he spots Xelqua in the distance. He's sitting on top of an odd structure that was affectionately dubbed "The Entity" by a group of people, which had rapidly spread throughout Hermitcraft's citizens. Xelqua doesn't seem to be too bothered at the moment, looking at a watch on his wrist.

Xelqua doesn't seem to notice Hot Guy at first, but as he gets closer, the vigilante turns his head and eyes Hot Guy up and down. He stands, his hands on his hips. Hot Guy stops at the bottom of the Entity, looking up at the avian.

“Hello?” Hot Guy’s voice is gentle compared to his fighting skills.

Xelqua tilts his head, small wings on the sides of his head fluttering in curiosity. He doesn't say a word, only acknowledging Hot Guy with a neutral squint.

The hero watches the vigilante for a few seconds before he continues speaking, “What are you up to?”

"Why do you want to know? Trying to arrest me for stealing your thunder?" He narrows his eyes further, skeptical.

Hot Guy raises his hands up in a mock surrender. “If I was trying to arrest you this interaction would not be going how it is.”

“Fine,” Xelqua crosses his arms, “but I still have reason to be wary.”

Hot Guy lets his hands fall back down to his sides. “Who are you?” He still kept a calm voice.

“I’m a vigilante,” Xelqua’s voice is full of agitation and his feathers ruffle,” and I have no interest in becoming one of you heroes!”

“Okay,” a stupid smile dances across the elven hero’s face, “I’ll call you Birdie then!”

Xelqua’s wings flare, and his violet eyes widen. “I- Okay fine,” he puts a hand over his face, slightly turning his head away, “my name is Xelqua…”

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Xelqua.” Hot Guy gives a little wave. “The name’s Hot Guy!”

“Tch.” Xelqua raises his wrist to look at his watch before continuing, “Don’t you have citizens to take care of?”

“Currently, no.” Hot Guy shakes his head side to side. “There, luckily, isn't anything happening at the moment. Waiting for someone?”

The blacked wing vigilante rolls his eyes. “I’m looking around for petty crimes I can stop without getting myself injured.” Xelqua huff before continuing his explanation. “You heroes always stick to your patrols, so I’m here to take care of those in dingier areas.”

“So, I am interrupting?” Hot Guy slips his hands into his pockets. He kept his eyes on Xelqua.

“Uh, yeah, kinda,” came Xelqua’s mutter, “but it doesn't seem like much is happening.”

Hot Guy lets out a sigh. “It’s always quiet after a big fight. The chances of anything, even petty crimes, is really low.” The elven hero shugs.

“I see…”

“How is the view up there?”

Xelqua tsks and turns away, flaring his wings. He spreads them wide and prepares to take off.

Hot Guy reaches out a hand. “Eh, wait-”

The avian pauses before turning his head to the hero. “What is it?”

“Thank you for earlier…”

“Earlier? Oh, you mean with The Doctor.” The black feathered wings fold once more as Xelqua turns to face Hot Guy. “Listen, it wasn't anything personal. I did it because he is a villain.”

Hot Guy lightly shakes his head, some brown hair falling from his bun. “I know, but you could have chosen to wait longer.” To wait for Hot Guy to have been shot down for the count.

“What was there to wait for? The Doctor left and there were no casualties.”

“Still…” With that last word, the elven hero turned and walked off.

Xelqua watches, unamused. "Cold Guy," he grumbles.

The night passes, and just like Hot Guy said, nothing happened. The streets were quiet, a few stray animals around. Xelqua patrols almost all night, returning to his bakery in the morning.

WHATTT I'm making another Desert Duo centric AU (with the help of my friend!!! @stonegoesgodmode) bc I'm silly and bonkers all the time

It's inspired by kitsuneisi's desertduo vigilante AU and also vesperionnox's Hero Villain Desert Duet and like I have no idea what I'm calling it yet but LISTEN TO ME LISTEN okay

So BASICALLY BASICALLY It's a more futuristic based city AU (Stone and I get to make up stuff yayyy) WITH HEROES AND VILLAINS RAHHH

So listen, Grian and Scar right,, They're two business owners who partner right after Grian moves to the city of Hermitcraft from the city of Evolution (always referred to as Evo btw), but also, Scar is the hero Hot Guy, and Grian is the vigilante Xelqua (Sorry but Kitsuneisi just realllyyy inspired me yknow,,, like this AU was originally based off their AU I'm sorry don't get mad at me pretty please </3</3)

How the AU starts out basically, is Hot Guy battling The Doctor (Doc, in case it's not as obvious as it is it Stone and I) in the streets. Right as Hot Guy runs out of arrows and is about to get laser-blasted, Xelqua dives in!! Bird boy sends the laser gun right out of The Doctor's hand with a kick and lands a few feet away. (This is Xelqua's vigilante debut, btw!!)

Being suddenly outnumbered and unprepared, The Doctor makes his escape with his jetpack, and before Hot Guy can thank Xelqua, the winged vigilante is off.

Again @stonegoesgodmode is helping me a lot with this AU!!!! Ty for reading :DD

[antlerbone]

Rather than acting skittish and fleeing from the sight of a strange object or a predator, caribou commonly approach. We call them naturally curious. Naturally confident might be more accurate, the bottom line being that their long legs and oversize hoofs enable them to outrun almost any threat they encounter on the boggy, tussock-riddled barrengrounds of the North. They can afford to move in closer to gauge a predator's intentions and all but eliminate the possibility of a surprise attack. Obst noticed a wolverine making its way toward a caribou band, and as the traveler drew near, it began dancing and prancing on the tundra. That got the band's attention. The wolverine then dropped onto the ground and rolled around on its back waving its paws in the air. "Obst said it was just acting crazy," Copeland told me. "The caribou kept walking nearer, forming a kind of crescent of interest." As the wolverine continued thrashing about on its back as though experiencing a seizure or the loopiest good time ever had in the arctic, a calf edged especially close. The wolverine whirled to its feet and made a dash straight at the curious young caribou. As soon as it became obvious that the calf was going to escape, the wolverine dropped down and went back to rolling and writhing and being gulo loco. Fascinated, the caribou gradually returned to watch, and the hunter made a second sudden rush at one. Again, no luck. The wolverine stopped, looked after the fleeing band a moment, turned, and padded on.

All kinds of animals dance. I'm not referring to stylized courtship displays with a lot of high-stepping, bowing, preening, and puffery. I mean loose-limbed, head-tossing, get-up-and-boogie-style dancing to the beat of a buoyant heart. In Glacier Park, I've watched elk, grizzlies, mountain goats, and deer break into dances on the mountainsides, both while playing with companions and while completely alone. Long midday rests seem to prime animals for this after they get up and stretch. Reaching a snowbank on a hot afternoon will set them off, too. They go slide-dancing away downhill in sprays of corn snow, and I know I'm not the only hiker who's done the same. Dancing bears like to flop down all at once and wriggle-rub around on their backs. At other times, gamboling grizz will turn a dive for the ground into a somersault - or several. Some animals work themselves up from shaking to airborne frolicking after a swim. They also seem to fall into the mood during sudden changes in atmospheric conditions like the drop in barometric pressure (and perhaps the increase in ozone or static electricity) before the onset of a summer storm. Others dance for no apparent reason, and the only way we can relate is to remember moments when excitement welled up inside until we could no longer keep our arms still and both feet on the ground

The Wolverine Way by Douglas Chadwick

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

MY DEAR WIFE. I DESIRE A SEQUEL TO THE JIMMY EMPIRE FIC. I MADE THIS TUMBLR ACCOUNT TO MAKE MY DEMANDS. NOW GO BE FREE. WRITE YOU FANTASTIC FANFIC WRITER YOU. -BEST SPOUSE, PURP <3

this was a popular request LMAO :D

here’s the first part

…

The ringing of her communicator wakes Lizzie up late in the night. Blinking herself awake, she quickly answers it, speaking quietly so as to not awaken her sleeping fiance next to her. “Hello?”

“Lizzie, it’s Pixl,” comes the familiar British voice. “I’m so sorry to wake you.”

“It’s okay,” Lizzie says. “Is something wrong?”

“Something’s happened with Jimmy.”

Lizzie’s heart skips a beat. “Is he okay?”

“I’ll explain everything later but I could really use your help right now. Are you able to come to the Cod Empire?”

Momentarily forgetting that Pixl can’t see her, Lizzie nods. “Of course, I’ll come over right away.”

“Thanks so much, Lizzie,” says Pixl gratefully. “See you soon.”

“See you.”

Lizzie puts down her communicator and gets out of bed. Just as she’s finished changing, her fiance stirs in his bed and murmurs, “What’s going on? Who was that?”

“Pixl,” replies Lizzie softly, secretly glad he’s awake; she wouldn’t have woken him first. “Something’s happened to Jimmy, and Pixl needs me. You okay to come over to the Cod Empire with me?”

Joel sits up in his bed, immediately more awake. “Of course, of course. Let me get dressed.”

The two fly straight over to the Cod Empire and land outside Jimmy’s house. Pixl answers the door on the first knock. “Queen Lizzie, thank you for coming,” he says gratefully. “And King Joel.”

He leads them inside. Lizzie and Joel both gasp simultaneously as they spot Jimmy lying on the bed.

Joel freezes but Lizzie dashes to his side and grasps his hand, staring down in horror at the bruises covering Jimmy’s face. “Oh my goodness! What happened to him?! Is he okay?!”

Pixl joins her on Jimmy’s other side. “He’s recovering,” he responds grimly. “You know the demon Xornoth that’s shown their face around the server lately?”

“Heard of them.”

“fWhip and Sausage seem to be around the epicentre of the whole thing. They captured Jimmy, kept him in a cell for a whole day, beat him several times, then tried to sacrifice him to Xornoth. Scott and I managed to save him but he almost died from his injuries before Scott was able to heal him somewhat with magic.”

Lizzie gazes down at Jimmy with a worried expression, gently touching his face. He stirs slightly under her touch.

After a moment, she speaks again, her tone low and dangerous. “fWhip and Sausage, you said?”

Pixl nods. “Yeah. Scott and I chased them off but I’m a little worried about them returning to finish the job. That’s why I asked you over; I could do with some help protecting him. If that’s okay.”

“Of course it’s okay.” Lizzie retracts her hand and presses her fist into her palm. “Hell, if either of them show their faces around here, I’ll rip them apart with my bare hands.”

Now Joel moves closer to the bed, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “Poor Jimmy… I can’t imagine how terrified he must’ve been.”

As Pixl opens his mouth to respond, another knock at the door sounds. The three frown at each other, trying to work out who could possibly be at the door.

After a moment, Pixl heads back over to the door and answers it. His gaze darkens when he sees who’s standing there. “You’re not welcome here.”

Lizzie stiffens as she hears MythicalSausage’s voice: “I just wanted to ask how Jimmy is. And to… apologise.”

“Apologise?!” Lizzie bursts out.

Joel draws Pixl out of the way as Lizzie storms to the door and shoves Sausage backwards. “You TORTURED my friend and you think you can just walk over here and APOLOGISE?!”

Sausage scrambles back as a furious Lizzie bears down on him. “I had nothing to do with hurting him! That was all fWhip!”

“YOU THINK THAT MAKES IT BETTER?!” Lizzie bellows.

She flings out her arms and manipulates the ocean water into grabbing hold of Sausage and bringing him closer to her. “ACK!” Sausage chokes, struggling uselessly. “LIZZIE!”

“I’m going to kill you, Sausage,” growls Lizzie. “Would you rather be flung high into the air and fall to your death or drowned in salty ocean water?”

“N-Neither!”

A dark smile appears on Lizzie’s face. “Too bad. I’ve decided I’m gonna drown you.”

She lifts the water higher. His scream is abruptly cut off as the water envelopes his head, stopping him from breathing. She watches with satisfaction as his air slowly runs out.

But then Pixl’s voice comes from behind her: “Lizzie, he’s calling for you. He needs you.”

Lizzie pauses, weighing up her options. Eventually, she releases Sausage onto the dock, taking grim pleasure in the way he splutters and coughs up water. “You’re lucky this time, Sausage,” she says. She kneels down beside him and pushes her face close to Sausage’s with a menacing glare. “But if you ever, and I mean EVER, come near Jimmy again, you’re gonna wish you were never born. Do I make myself clear?”

“Y-Y-Yes!” gasps Sausage.

Lizzie steps back and lets Sausage flee, before rushing back inside and back to Jimmy’s side. Her ally is stirring, his eyelids fluttering. “L-Lizz...ie…”

“I’m here,” whispers Lizzie softly, holding his hand against her cheek to reassure him of her presence. “I’m here, Jimmy. Are you okay?”

Jimmy coughs weakly. “M-My wrists hurt.”

Frowning, Lizzie pushes down Jimmy’s sleeve, revealing the thick red marks. “Wh-What is this?!” she gasps. “Pixl?”

“It’s…” Pixl hesitates, knowing what his next words will likely cause. “They’re burn marks. He had his hands tied behind his back for most of the day in that cell.”

Joel glances sharply at his fiancee. “Uh oh.”

Thunder sounds overhead as dark clouds rapidly slide across the sky. Lizzie’s expression remains steady, but lightning flashes in her eyes. “I’ll be right back, Jimmy,” she says, her voice as steady as her expression. But it’s just an act for Jimmy’s benefit and both Pixl and Joel know it.

Neither Pixl nor Joel stop her as she storms out of the hut and takes off flying towards the Grimlands. She lands atop the outer wall, rain starting to fall from the sky.

“FWHIP!” she bellows, her voice rolling through the clouds and echoing across the land.

Seconds later, the count himself appears atop his tower, within audible distance despite the increasingly loud thunder overhead. “Queen Lizzie!” He spreads his arms wide. “How may I help you?”

A bolt of lightning strikes the very top of fWhip’s tower.

“Aha, what have I done to invoke the wrath of the Ocean Queen?” fWhip laughs.

Instead of replying verbally, Lizzie lifts her arms and summons a giant wave of water from the river, sending it crashing down like a tsunami over the Grimlands.

“NO!” fWhip yells. “My villagers! You’re gonna drown my villagers!”

“MAYBE YOU SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT OF THAT BEFORE YOU TORTURED JIMMY AND TRIED TO MURDER HIM!” roars Lizzie.

fWhip stares at her for a moment as he finally remembers that Lizzie is one of Jimmy’s closest allies. “...oh…”

Shaking himself into action, fWhip dives down into his flooded village. Lizzie watches him, taking grim satisfaction in watching him flounder around in desperation. She doesn’t even realise how close he is to death until-

fWhip drowned

Lizzie quickly dissipates the flood and jumps down to look for fWhip’s items. As she’s starting to pick them up, fWhip reappears, so she retreats back to a safe distance.

“I’ll get my revenge for this, Ocean Queen,” growls fWhip. “I will not take the attempted murder of my villagers lying down.”

“I don’t give a crap,” Lizzie snaps back. “Don’t you dare think about going near Jimmy ever again, because if you do, I can promise you I will wipe your goddamn empire off the face of the world and I will NOT regret doing it.”

fWhip narrows his eyes. “You’re messing with the wrong empire. I too have the power to wipe an empire out of existence.”

“I live in the ocean. The bulk of my empire is underwater now. Your TNT will make a scratch at most.”

fWhip’s mouth opens, then closes again. After a moment, he looks away. “Fine.”

Lizzie raises an eyebrow. “Really? You’re backing down that easily?”

“I’m being smart. You’ve no idea what’s coming, Lizzie. I do. I need to prepare. I can’t afford to be dragged into another war right now.”

As fWhip turns, he finds Lizzie extremely close to him. She grabs the collar of his shirt and pulls him close so that their faces are inches apart. “Then don’t start one,” she snarls. “Stay away from my allies.”

She shoves fWhip away and takes off again, flying back to the swamp. Part of her feels bad at the attack on fWhip’s innocent villagers but she pushes it aside. fWhip tortured Jimmy and was perfectly willing to slaughter him when he was tied up and defenceless.

Lizzie has no sympathy or mercy for a person like that.

When she gets back, Joel meets her at the door. “Lizzie, you’re back!” he gasps. “I saw the death message in chat.”

“Yes. fWhip needed to be told that I won’t tolerate him hurting my Jimmy.” Her gaze flickers from Joel to Pixl and back again. “Or any of you.”

Joel gazes at her with almost visible hearts in his eyes. “I love you so much, Lizzie.”

Lizzie can’t help a chuckle. “I love you too.”

“Guys, guys, come quick!” Pixl calls suddenly. “Guys!”

The two quickly rush to Jimmy’s beside but stop dead simultaneously when they see what Pixl is so panicked about.

A mark has appeared on Jimmy’s neck. It looks like some kind of rune, but what’s worrying about it is the fact that it’s glowing red.

“What is this?” Lizzie gasps. “What’s happening?”

“I don’t know! It just appeared!”

After a few seconds, the glowing dies down, leaving only the clear black mark.

“This has got to be something to do with the demon,” says Pixl shakily. “I don’t know what or how or why, but somehow, fWhip and Sausage’s attempted sacrifice of Jimmy must’ve caused this.”

“But what can we do about it?” Joel asks. “What can we do to help?”

Pixl has no answer to this.

Nobody does.

[morbidanthem]

((A/N: Sometimes Inspiration Strikes, I hope I can keep the inspiration going...))

Growth and Evolution (Pregnancy Headcanon)

-> A03 Here <-

Continuity - Pokémon Sword and Shield

Character(s) - Piers (Pokémon) | Fem!Reader Parring - Piers/Fem!Reader Genre - Cute, Fluffy Rating - T for Teen and Up Warning - Mentions of Menstruation 

Word Count - 892

[Piers]  | [Raihan]  | [Leon]

✏️Written 06/27/2021✏️

Piers

You cursed rather loudly, as you unceremoniously fell back onto your mattress, causing your pet Nickit to yelp at you.

You had accidentally startled him right out of his slumber, practically launching the poor thing into the air with your actions.

"Sorry, Nickit." You whispered, throwing your arm across your face.

You had just come into the bedroom to lie down and try to think, as you had placed your Test on top of the kitchen counter.

You only did it on a whim, as it had only been a week after you missed your first period.

Still, the paranoia set it quickly, and you had to confirm it for yourself.

'Was this really ok?'

You heard Nickit make some kind of ruckus, as you heard him push his way out of your bedroom, and out into the open space of your living room.

You heard some more rustling, but chose to ignore it.

Nickit has always done whatever he wants, and for now, his shenanigans were the least of your worries...

However, hearing that familiar clank of the metal trash bin falling onto the floor roused you out of your foggy fatigue.

You sighed, shouting as you stood up.

"Nickit! I swear to the Almighty-"

You paused as your heart jumped up into your throat.

There, right in the middle of Nikit's "treasure" pile, was your…

Your positive test.

He mewled at you, while turning back to his pile to rearrange it to his liking.

This was bad, and it can go one of three ways...

A, hope you're quicker than him, and grab him and your test before he runs with it.

You were never quicker than him.

B, distract him with his favorite treats and grab it while he isn't looking.

Oh… you forgot to buy treats at the store earlier…

Ok, Option C, get on your hands and knees and beg him to return it to you.

That worked sometimes… but only if Nickit was feeling kind and benevolent.

"Nickit, my beloved widdle bubby!" You cooed, getting onto the carpet to crawl towards him slowly.

He looked at you with curiosity, but didn't indicate he wanted to run.

"My Bubby Bubby! C'mere! Come get some pets!" You spoke, trying to encourage him to come to you.

You watched his eyes shift from you to his pile.

Oh no.

He knows.

"Nickit, no!"

But it was too late.

In the blink of an eye he had managed to grab your test in his teeth, and bolted out the little pet door you accidentally left unlocked.

You cursed loudly, throwing on your pair of beat up old Trainers and your faded black hoodie as quickly as you could, darting after the thieving Pokémon.

You were in such a rush, you didn't even bother to check if the front door was latched properly.

"Nickit, come back!"

You shouted, darting after the fleeing Pokemon.

You cursed again, as it was hard to keep up with him, as he darted and dashed around every corner imaginable.

You were getting winded, being barely able to keep up with him.

He thought it was a fun game, having his person chase him down the dank streets of Spikemuth.

He would let you catch up to him, only to dash in another direction before you could grab him.

He even managed to throw you off a few times- going through a dead end alleyway and jumping over a chain link fence, forcing you to curse and to try and find a way around.

'Why? Why didn't I get a Meowth instead?!'

You eventually caught up to him, as he had slowed down for some reason while entering a clearing.

Without thinking, you maneuvered yourself to jump forward, scooping up the mischievous Pokémon into your arms.

Unfortunately, you were so caught up in catching Nickit, you had no idea what was in front of him.

You were sliding legs first into the most immovable object in Galar

You caught it last second fortunately, and lifted Nickit into the air, so he wouldn't get hurt by the impact.

You felt it though, as you hit legs first into an Obstagoon.

You winced as you balled your legs up, still holding Nickit into the air.

But it got worse, as who else in the entirety of Spikemuth has an Obstagoon?

"Y'alright? That's one way to make an entrance-" Piers began, as he stepped around his Obstagoon to look at you lying on the ground.

Time froze as Nickit turned to face Piers with the Positive Test still hanging out of his mouth.

Piers' eyes grew wide with shock, and you just went to bury your face into Nickit's fur.

"L-Listen, I'm sorry you had to find out like this-" you tried to stutter out, afraid Piers would be disappointed or angry with you.

You both never really talked about this sort of thing...

You heard Piers curse, as he took both your arms into his hands, and lifted you onto your feet with ease.

Nickit had wiggled his way out of your grip, landing gracefully on the ground.

"This is incredible!" He shouted, pulling you into a rather tight hug.

He was strong for such a skinny guy.

You just laughed and hugged him back with just as much ferocity, as all your anxiety had melted away into nothing.

[jessiebanethedragon]

White Sands Warm The Cold Sea (pt 11)

Summary: the reader, betrothed to a disgusting Coruscanti Lord flees her home world and lands herself in a plethora of trouble, a ship of clones, and one pirate captain whose cold exterior needs much more than the tropical seaside sun.

Chapter one

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter ten

Warnings: Swearing, takes place in time periods where women have dowery's and suchlike. The readers' dad and betrothed are asses.

Chapter eleven: The Fires of Kashyyyk

It was supposed to be so easy, the mission was so effortless all members of Clone Force 99 had grumbled about it being assigned to them.

Why the jedi were wasting resources maintaining the hold on the forests of Kashyyyk was a mystery. The separatists were in retreat according to recent intel and if they kept pushing them to the opposite coast there wouldn't be a reason to evacuate.

Not to mention that Wookies were stubborn as banthas and trying to talk them into leaving their homes was difficult even without having to go through brain numbing translator droids.

Hunter had felt the rumbling of artillery machinery before he or anyone else could’ve heard it. But even with his enhanced senses, there simply was not enough time to get to safety before the barrage started. It was cruelly timed, and maliciously targeted. Taking out the bridge that connected the schoolhouse to the rest of the community. Before lazily picking off those who tried to escape or reach their children.

“Get back to the ship!” Hunter all but screams at Crosshair, Wrecker and Tech. It is as if on cue that the heavens open up to send rain down in massive quantities. And what isn't on fire becomes mush under his feet.

“We ain't leaving you.” Wrecker calls as droids begin their assault.

“Get back to the ship-”

“Hunter…” Tech starts

“THAT'S AN ORDER” Hunter screams when the trees catch fire, from artillery or the lightning he cannot tell. He tries to dig his boots into the mud, but the wetter it gets the less traction there is. As the sky darkens, the separatists cut all power to the city.

Crosshair meets Hunter’s eyes and with a single nod the sniper yanks his brothers towards the Havoc Marauder. With one hand tight on his viroblade, and the other on the barrel of his blaster, Hunter takes off towards the school.

It’s a mess of rain, mud, and fire. He loses count of how many times his feet slip, and by the time he reaches the bridge to the school, Hunter is the only person left standing. Injured Wookies groan in the mud and when he calls into his com for medics an abandoned crackle replies to him. No one is coming to their aid, the separatists had them trapped.

Hunter can feel the young Wookies cry for help, his enhanced senses feel the wails in his bones.

The last bridge suspends itself precariously in the wind, and the thunder, or cannons, he can’t tell which, shake the ground. The schoolhouse sits in the strongest tree of the Kashyyykian woods. Like ewoks they live happily away from the ground, even the built up mud rests on wooden slats and clay bricks. The circular building cuts into the tree itself, housing the young ones protectively. The sturdy bridge sits unyielding in the storm. And by the time Hunter reaches the schoolhouse, he has to kick aside the steaming droids that lay in his wake. Soft calls of Wookies spur him on, but with the cut of electricity, the door doesn't budge, wedging his vibroblade where the latch meets the wall it cracks open, only to slam shut again as he dodges a blaster bolt from behind him.

More droids hit the wood with a resounding thunk.

And with his whole body weight thrown in between the wall and the door Hunter gets it open. And like a stream of water the kids run out and across the bridge towards the beach. One stays and calls to him while pointing back inside. And his rusty Shyriiwook understands there's someone else still trapped. Ripping off his helmet, he wedges that between the door and the latch to keep it open.

Inside the school house it’s dark, satchels and materials lay strewn about, and focusing himself, Hunter hears a faint call.

“scrascra, akraakra!” The child calls for his parents. “acwoanak cooscwooowhwo akanworacwo acwoanak!”

help someone please help!

Hunter has never moved faster in his life. And he finds the fawn coloured Wookie in the last room with their wrist caught under a fallen durasteel beem. Legs kicking feebly as they try to right themselves.

“It’s okay.” Hunter tells them. “I’m here to save you.” and with one arm under the shoulder blades of the child and the other yanking on the beam he lifts.

The small fuzzy child clings to him for dear life as they are freed. And even more so when another shell makes contact with the building.

Making his way back through the rounded hallways he shields the child from the dropping cracks in the wood. As he rounds the last corner, there is a man in an unmistakable separatist uniform looking down at the helmet that has allowed his entrance into the school house.

He’s young, too young to be wearing the general uniform that sits on angry shoulders. But the chopped hair and figure matches with legends and ghost stories that regular clones insist on repeating.

Volim Nython turns towards Hunter and the child with a sick grin. With a disgusting click and slurp of his tongue and mouth, he spits on the once pristine floor.

“I would suppose I have you to thank for the disappearance of my bartering tools.” He comments. Watching as the clone in front of him tightens his grip on the Wookie child.

“Children are not bartering tools.” He seethes.

“Of course they are, and I should commend your efficacy of dismantling the droids, but I'm guessing from the armour you’re no average clone.” If Nython was one thing, he was smart, wickedly so. Hunter braces himself as another bomb shakes the building.

“General, we’ve pushed the republic forces onto the beach, awaiting your order.” The comlink sparks to life.

“Pull back,” He says calmly, turning away from Hunter. “But torch the forest, I don't want anyone left.”

“Rodger rodger.” Comes the reply and Hunter hears the shells fire at an even faster pace now.

“Lovely meeting you.” Nython says, pulling a flame detonator from his pocket. “Tell me, was it worth it? Giving those kids the illusion of salvation for what? A few moments?” Hunter's jaw twitches in anger.

“I guess not then.” The monster says dropping the detonator and calmly sliding through the gap in the door, watching the clone dash into cover as the tree lights up. And he waits just long enough to see the tattooed man pick himself and the kid up again. He wants to look in the clone's eye, through the flames, when he leans down to pick the helmet up. And he wants to hear the man scream through the storm when the door slides shut.

Tags: @the-mandalorian-clone-lover @peacefulwizardfox @rex-meshla @s1st37 @and-claudia @kamino-mermaid @thelambandthewolffe @starwarsmeninhelmets

@bronvin @myeternalsin @sweetsunflowerkisses @loverofclones @beizm @gunsmoke-blu

@logina6 @wondergal2001 @lafy-taffy @lafy-taffy @m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s

@starskenobiwan @lordellbell @kaetavlos @violetjedisylveon @​​vergol @Lackofhonor

[definitelynotshouting]

tma discord made a joke about martin bringing jon's stuff to his flat post s3 for safekeeping, so ofc i had to make it sad. enjoy the marto angst!!

~~~

He doesn’t mean to open up Jon’s yearbook, in the same way he doesn’t mean to pick up all of Jon’s things from his flat, or tell Jon's landlord that he’s the next of kin, smile stretched too tight over trembling his lips. He doesn’t mean to garner the old woman’s sympathy, either, but he receives it anyway in the form of a half-hearted pat to the shoulder as her brows crumple together-- like it's her first time trying on the expression.

“Terribly sorry for your loss,” she murmurs, eyes downcast. Proper respect for the dead, and all. Martin doesn’t bother correcting her-- it’s true, isn’t it? Dead is dead, and maybe Jon wasn’t his, but--

But he could’ve been. Martin had been so sure, just before the Unknowing. They could’ve been something.

Not that it matters anymore.

Martin reaches deep for his inner well of strength and patience, and cobbles together another fixed smile. “Thanks.”

“Right proper tenant, he was,” she continues, brows furrowing further. “Didn’t see him for a while, mind you, but I--”

She stops with such abruptness that Martin’s ears ring. At some indeterminate point his facial muscles had started moving of their own accord, freezing in a series of strained, rigid lines.

Whatever Jon’s landlord sees in them, it unnerves her. “I. Um. That is-- ah… you, you take all the time you need.” She fumbles another pat to his shoulder, before fleeing out the way she came. Jon's front door shuts with finality; the click reverberates through his head long after the sound dissipates.

Alone at last, Martin’s polite grimace slips.

It’s so cold here. Jon has curtains over the blinds-- thick, dark things, meant to block out everything from sunlight to prying eyes. Martin chokes on a hysterical laugh; there’s on the nose, and then there’s on the nose, and it’s so pathetically not-funny that he has to cover his face with his hands, biting down on the hiccups that keep tearing out of him.

There’s more, of course. Jon was-- was, god-- a living person, and it’s astonishing just how much people accumulate over the years. The procession of cheap tchotchkes lining the mantle surprises him, the mountain of books less so. Tapes, mugs, and discarded take-out receipts litter every surface of the sitting room; endearing, if circumstances were different. And when Martin moves further into the flat, he discovers a stack of cardboard boxes in the corner of Jon’s bedroom, still filled with whatever contents Jon had been too busy to unload.

The utter normalcy of it punches a gaping hole in the center of Martin’s chest. Deep, vicious grief pours out of it, claws at the tatters of his heart with oily, ink-stained fingers. Martin’s next breath takes the form of a rattling inhale-- just a week ago, Jon had walked these floors. Had pulled things out of those dusty boxes. Had, had, had. Things he’ll never do again. That’s the important part.

“Right," Martin tries, but his voice strangles, falls harsh and reedy in the dusty flat. Wrong. He cringes; silence is what reigns here, thick and impenetrable as stone.

The thought floats up unbidden: This isn’t a place. This is a tomb.

It knocks his knees out from under him. “No, nono--” Martin claps a hand over his mouth too late, stifling the sob that trips from his throat. The vice around his chest squeezes; he can’t breathe around the pressure, lungs fluttering for air. This-- and, god, Tim too-- it’s too much. The wall between himself and the emotions he's been holding back shatters, pooling onto the floor in a storm of frenzied weeping.

When he comes back to himself, he’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, propped up against one of the boxes. “Alright,” Martin croaks at it. Anything for a distraction-- at least these won't need packing up. “Let’s, uh. Let’s see what-- l-let’s see what we’ve got, yeah?”

The box’s flaps are arranged in a square, overlapping so they can hold themselves shut without tape. Martin digs a finger under one of them, prying it loose-- the others unfold without encouragement, blooming outward like a flower.

Strictly speaking, it doesn’t hold anything special. Just Oxford paraphernalia: Jon's folded dress robe, a leather-bound folder containing his degree, the black square cap with its equally black tassel. And a book. Slim, resting on top of everything else, the imprint of Jon’s fingers lingering against its glossy cover.

Martin thumbs its corner without thinking, his other fingers curling to hover over each print. They’re too big, blocking out the whorls of Jon’s fingers; Martin sniffs, wipes his nose on the back of his sleeve as fresh tears dribble down his cheeks.

He doesn’t mean to open the book. But somewhere in the haze of tears, his thumb slips beneath the cover, lifts it, and he finds himself staring at the inside cover of a yearbook.

“Oh.” Breathed out on the softest exhale, gently ruffling the pages. Martin sucks in another quick breath, but this one doesn’t hurt so much. His own curiosity overshadows the grief for a few precious moments; Martin sinks into it, flipping each page with that curious detachment that comes after a long crying jag.

None of the names and faces are familiar-- and why would they be? Martin never went to uni, much less Oxford. Each stranger’s features slide away when his eyes move on to the next. These are people he'll never meet; people whose lives are, with any luck, untouched by the horrors that have dominated his own.

Martin skips over the entire S section. Best not to risk it.

After the parade of portraits are other pictures, professional candids of student organizations at work, social clubs meeting up after class, interviews with some of the students. Standard fare, really. Everything drifts past without actually sticking, the accompanying text blurring as he skims over it.

He flips to a new page at random, and freezes.

That’s Jon. Younger, yes, face unlined, without a grey hair in sight-- but undeniably Jon. The picture is as crisp as the rest of them, catching the bronze highlights in Jon’s skin, the delicate bones of his wrist as he gesticulates on a stage. Theater Club, Martin reads. Bold, underlined. He reads it again, some itching, crawling thing at the back of his mind suddenly desperate to drink in this new information. Theater Club.

He’s so young. Locked in time, frozen on the page. For once he resembles his age; his posture is looser here, eyes trained on someone off camera. The hint of a smile poises on his lips, softening the jagged cut of his cheekbones with a dash of warmth.

Martin stares. He shouldn’t be looking at this-- it’s private, something Jon must’ve come back to many times, judging by the fingerprints. But in his mind’s eye, he can’t help but compare this picture to the last time he saw Jon: ashen, unmoving, and lifeless under tons of whirring machinery.

They don’t match up. One is vivacious, thrumming with energy. And the other is--

Is--

A drop splashes against the page, wrinkling Jon's image. It’s joined by another, then a third-- hot tears carving the skin of his cheeks, dripping from his chin onto the paper.

Did Jon ever know how numbered those happier days were? Could a part of him sense, back then, how long he had until his life cut short? The tragedy of this image, its bittersweetness, sends a bone-deep ache rippling inside of him. He’d give anything to go back in time and warn this Jon away from the Institute. Christ, he’d do anything right now just to have him back.

When the sob comes, it comes from deep in the core of him. Shreds something vital on its way out; Martin chokes on a great, heaving cry, breath punching from his lungs.

He doesn’t bother putting the book back. Just hugs it tight to his chest, clutching it with the same desperation that a drowning man would a life preserver. “I’m sorry,” he sobs, folding to press his forehead against the cover. “I’m so, so sorry.”

The Jon inside the yearbook, with his fond smile and glittering eyes, never responds.

[sisterofleatherfrog]

Star Wars Kinktober day- 6

Prompt: Feral kink

Wolffe x AFAB OC

Another shorter one today, I have to get to sleep because I got shit to do tomorrow.

Tags: Chase and catch, predator/prey dynamic, fantasy scenario, full consent they’re just being kinky, size kink, biting, marking, a dash of little red riding hood vibes

Words: 1136

🌳🐺💋

Run, run, run! The mantra was the only thing Mieli knew as she dogged, leaped, and swerved through the heavy brush. Dense groves of thin saplings, dips made by the paths of spring run-off, downed trees, thickets, slopes slick with pine needles, and a multitude of other small obstacles added unwanted seconds to the time that she was making. Between breaths she could hear the crash of her pursuer; smaller obstacles that she had to avoid he pushed through with abandon, but the tighter spaces she navigated with more ease he had to take his time with or circumvent. It was a give and take of lengths and speed: she was fast, but he was a wolf, inexorably possessed with the hunt.

Faster she tried to fly, tried to imagine there were wings upon her back to carry her as the breeze that surely flew above the suffocating blanket of trees, but wishful thinking does not carry feet, and her lungs were burning with the score of her breaths. A slope was before her and she took the opportunity to slide down it, precious seconds being gained as up the other side of the small dip she went. She barely cleared the top of it when she heard him break the cover at the other side. Mieli didn’t stop to look; she knew what she’d see. 

The forest started to change around her: less and less was the cover as thick tangles of pine, maple, and oak gave way to a burgeoning meadowland populated by aspens. If she could just get enough distance, she could lose him in the confusion of the dazzlingly uniform landscape. Ghost pipes, lady slippers, and blue-eyed grass now whipped past her ankles among the knee tall grass as she weaved in and out of the trees. A silence settled around her and, finding the sensation of rapacious eyes no longer on her back, she hunkered down and knelt to catch her breath at the base of one of the bright trees. Even though the grass was high enough to mostly conceal her bent form, she still quieted her panting breath as well as she could, not knowing where the hunter was keeping her instincts at full alert.

A howl ripped through the glade of delicate flora and struck the animal within her before she could settle though. Head whipping around on her slim neck, Mieli saw a black shape hurtling toward her, 80 meters approximately and closing. She cursed herself and knew she should have kept running, the seconds taken now to get up and back to speed costing her dearly here where there was nothing to impede him. She tried valiantly, but she’d left her speed behind where she’d tried to rest, and the hunter was only a step behind.

Sounds half breath, half cry to the wild echoed from her lips through the trees as the stomp of his feet creeped closer, closer… 

With a snarl she felt more than heard him leap behind her, a second of silence ringing in her ears before two meaty arms wrapped around her midsection and took her into the fall with him. With a small twist in the air they came down, him upon his back with her own pressed into his broad chest, shoulders comfortably swallowed by that solid plane. Escape was her first and only thought. Twisting hard she threw his grasp and went to her stomach on the ground before desperately trying to crawl away on her hands and knees, grasses now tickling the exposed skin of her shoulders and stomach. Before she could make it far, two expansive hands snatched at the meat of her calves, wrapping almost all the way around and causing her to stumble with her upper half, face falling into lilies of the valley. She wailed a shriek as her hands clawed into the fresh earth, trying to crawl away from the hands that held her tight, holding her, dragging her back-

The sharp sting of teeth lanced through her as the man sunk them into the flesh just under the bottom curve of her ass below her shorts. Mieli froze, the sensation of the sudden snap of his jaw having erased anything else in her head, the only thing present being the instinct to remain still and hope that would somehow protect her. Slowly the teeth released, as if testing to see what she would do. When she remained as was, a thick tongue laved over that spot, soothing the soon-to-be mark before he slid further up, nosing her skin before material hid it. Up and up he went, soon licking a small path up her lower back. She shivered, and, as if a trance had been broken, she suddenly came to herself again, the landscape snapping sharply back into focus.

He seemed to sense the second her body tensed and prepared to flee again, because just as suddenly as the notion came he was all over her, the breadth of him more than enough to consume her petite form. His knees rested on either side of her while his shins replaced his hands as they pinned her legs to the ground; in one more desperate attempt Mieli pushed back with her arms, hoping to throw off his core balance, only to be met with the unforgiving hardness of his hips against her ass. She stopped dead, and he took that opportunity to wrap his left arm under hers and around her throat, his right coming to possessively cup her sex. 

Her left arm immobilized and his weight bearing down on her upper back, Mieli was forced to fall to her chest, moaning in defeat. His mouth returned to her skin, licking and mouthing the skin at the nape of her neck before he bit her, hard, in the thicker flesh where her neck and shoulder met, and growled. The sound was low and she felt the rumble of it pass through her entire body. It was a message without words: ‘you’re mine’, and ‘submit’. Knowing she was beat, she mewled, helplessly arching her back and pressing herself back into his hips. The length of him was a hot, steel rod pressing into the cleft of her ass, trapped in the confines of his own pants. His teeth still latched onto her, he growled a softer tone at her submission and lessened his bite by a fraction before slowly, torturously, beginning to rut against her.

Turning her face into the ground she grinned and gasped at the sensation of his cock dragging over her. The chase was long and hard but the big, bad wolf had finally caught her. Mieli knew there was nothing to fear though, because this wolf was her Wolffe, and she’d let him devour her mind, body, and soul.

🌳🐺💋

So maybe not all of the plants technically belong in the environment, or together at the same place and time, but I’m just setting the mood here boys.

My OC’s name is derived from the Finnish goddess of the hunt, Mielikki. I came across her a while ago when researching pine-deities and I just thought her name was cool and didn’t want to go with Diana or Artemis (as nice of names as they are). I pronounce Mieli as me-ELLE-ee, but I really have 0 clue as to how the original Finnish is pronounced so, whatever.

Planning this one shot I accidentally started outlining a whole fic, so maybe we’ll see that in the future (if we do, I’ll definitely have either this scene or at least a similar one, so you’ll be getting all the feral smut your little heart's desire).

I just keep making ideas for other longer works while working on these, huh? 

Kinktober works

Masterlist

[paper-n-ashes]

sparks and embers - chapter 8

Characters: Poe Dameron x Original Female Character, Kylo Ren x Original Female Character

Story Tags: Explicit (18+), Canon Compliant/Divergent (Set after TLJ), First Person POV, Love Triangle, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Porn with Plot, Hurt/Comfort, Kylo Ren hates Poe Dameron

Chapter 8 - Chaos

Words: 5.8k

Chapter Tags/Warnings: sexual references/scenes (undressing, consensual touching), mentions of medical procedures/injuries, use of canon-based weapons, enemy invasion, enemy fatalities, descriptions of severe injury, taking of a hostage

Read on AO3 or Start from the beginning

~

I rushed to my quarter’s door, opening and closing it behind me in one swift action, eyes latching onto Poe's shape as he walked across the frame of the hallway. My legs weren’t quick enough as I moved down, impatient, a flurry of sparks in my abdomen beginning to crackle as embers of desire ignited into smoldering flames.

Poe glanced up instantly when he heard my hurried movement, confusion settling into his expression as I came into view.

My thoughts of dashing directly to him were momentarily on hold when I noticed the change in his appearance, wearing the clothes I had set aside for his to return to the Resistance base. Dark trousers, the calves covered by a set of heavy boots that luckily matched his size. A white cotton shirt draped by a mahogany stained leather jacket.

It was so plain, a mundane outfit for everyday wear. And it was driving me insane.

I surged forward, eyes blistering into his. He looked worried, bewildered at my purposeful expression and tense strides. But as soon as I was before him, looking up, his face millimetres from mine, he knew.

He sensed all of it bursting in the energy around me. The desire, the need, the longing I’d been holding back.

Scooping my face into his hands, Poe pressed our lips together, wasting no time with the politeness he'd executed the last instance he attempted to kiss me, slanting his lips over mine, so desperate, so hungry. I responded just as eagerly, massaging our mouths together, slipping one of my palms to his freshly shaved jaw, relishing the luxurious smell that sifted into my nose.

The softness of his lips, the heat of his exhale, it was utterly intoxicating, my fingers coiling into his still slightly dampened hair, wrenching him closer.

I needed more.

As if my thoughts were transferred to him by our connection, he moved his lips away, beginning to trail hot kisses over the line of my jaw and down my neck, as I leaned my head back to give him every ounce of exposure to my skin. His hands slid down to my torso, placed roughly at either side of my ribs, gripping tightly as the delicate touch of his lips at the line of my clavicle pulled a soft moan from my throat, feeling almost lightheaded at the pleasure it rushed through me.

The sound made him frenzied, returning to crush his mouth to mine, slipping his tongue past the boundary of my teeth, completely enraptured, almost greedy. Using his grip on my waist, I felt him begin to push me, guiding me in a haphazard walk until my lower back connected against a hard piece of furniture. The hospital bed.

In a fluid motion, he clutched my hips and hoisted me upwards, my rear perched on the edge of the mattress, a small gasp escaping at his boldness. The tightened material of my skirt held my legs annoyingly close together, impeding his clear desire to keep his body pressed to mine. Fingers snatched at the hem, impatiently pushing the fabric up my thighs, daring to expose my underwear.

Poe immediately shifted to wedge himself in between my legs, and I took the opportunity to wrap them around him, pulling him close. The height of the bed put our hips at a matching angle, allowing me to feel him, all of him, his hard arousal grinding into the thin fabric of my panties.

While our lips continued to caress each other’s with increasing fervour, an impossibly delicious groan left him, relishing the sensation of his cock pressed into me.

Oh maker, that sound is heavenly.

Instinct took control, my fingers moving blindly to find the collar of his jacket, tugging it back over his shoulders, Poe helping me to pull the leather sleeves past his wrists, refusing to let our faces disconnect. My actions weren’t nearly as graceful, scrunching my hands impatiently into the bottom of his shirt, desperate to finally get the chance to trace my fingers over his bare chest. He barely hesitated in pulling back for the second it took to tug the cotton over his head, returning to my lips again like the momentary pause left him starving for them.

I was all fire inside, searing heat lighting up my skin in the most enchanting way, the intensity only getting hotter as I snaked my arms around Poe’s torso, letting my fingers dig into the toned muscles of his back. He growled in between impassioned kisses, his hands sliding from where they had found themselves on my hips, up over my breasts, only lingering briefly. One by one, he begin to unlock the buttons of my blouse, hurriedly wanting to expose my skin to the cold air of night resting around us. Returning his previous favour, I yanked out the material tucked into my skirt, allowing him to finish pulling the last buttons apart and hastily wrench the piece of clothing away.

Feeling his fingertips run up the lengths of my arms, I could have sworn there were marks left in the shape of his movement, a crimson red pleasure burning into my skin at his touch. Our kiss had maintained its intensity, but I could sense his focus drifting towards other parts of me, a hand gliding down my chest, slipping gently into the cup of my bra, fingers squeezing at my breast tenderly before a thumb grazed lightly over the already hardened nipple.

I gasped, my head leaning back in delight, as he continued to tease the nub, his face nuzzling into my neck, brushing his lips just under my ear. The whistle of his breath sent a glittering shiver all through my nerve endings, setting my skin alight with electricity. Nails dug harder into his back, my whole body beginning to pulse with lust, radiating solely from my centre, a wetness extremely noticeable underneath my panties. And somehow, Poe read my mind again, with a hand trailing down, irritatingly slowly. I soon felt his fingers cautiously skim the inside of my thigh, testing me, possibly still waiting for me to flee.

There was no way. My regard for that pointless line I'd been so fearful to traverse was so far behind me in the horizon, I could barely sense it anymore.

I pulled back to meet his face, only to move in to gently bite his lower lip, a way to indicate I was ready, to push him to keep going. His growl was almost fierce as we connected in a kiss once more, fingers now finding their confidence to graze from the bottom of my entrance all the way up.

Even with fabric dulling the exquisite sensation, my hips jerked into his hand, legs clamping around him harder, lungs sucking in an impassioned breath. I could feel him smile under my lips, smugly enjoying the reaction one simple touch produced. Two fingers continued to brush up and down my covered slit, gauging my response as he moved, before landing on the place that made me bite back a moan.

“Don’t hold it back,” he whispered into my ear. “I want to memorise the sound.”

I could have burst into a ball of flames right then, leaving behind nothing but embers and ash. The pleasure that rippled through me at the low rumble of his voice, combined with the increased swirling of his fingers over my sweet spot, was unparalleled to anything I’d experienced before. Completely drowned in the luscious motion, equally enraptured by his touch and warm, panting breath seeping into my ear. I was already so high on the feel of him, the twitching of my thighs signifying a climbing need for release. Yet I was suddenly acutely aware of seconds ticking away too swiftly, worried at any moment this scene could be snatched away by interruption.

“We don’t have much time,” I breathed, slipping my hands to his cheeks, forcing him look at me. His eyes held mine for a single moment before his fingers increased their pace, and I was helpless but to let out a pitiful whimper.

His breath grew heavier at the sound, and when I was able to reclaim enough composure to look back into his eyes again, they were fiery, animalistic.

“I want you,” I all but begged. “I need you, right now.”

A low groan seeped from his throat, eyes clenching shut as he pushed his hardness against me once more, refusing to cease the perfect swirl of his touch. “I need to hear you tip over the edge, at least once, before I leave,” he murmured.

My mouth enveloped his moments after he spoke the words, the strength of his lust radiating harshly into me. I was defenseless against it, wanting nothing more than to give him what he desired, thrusting myself against his hand, ravenously eager for the release he craved.

Finally, he hooked a lone finger into the top of my panties, ready to pull them down.

A shrill tone echoed through the clinic.

They were here.

We were out of time.

We both shot our eyes to the door, Poe’s head whipping around after hearing the familiar sound of my door alarm.

“Frack!” he exclaimed, before snapping his face back to mine.

A longing gaze exchanged between us, shared anguish over the night we could have spent together, as the reality of distance separating our bodies for an unknown time, maybe to never meet again, came crashing down in an instant.

Within the next moment he had his fingers laced through my hair, pulling me into an ardent kiss, intimate and slow, lips moving purposefully over mine.

I tried desperately to savour the feeling of it, the taste, the smell of him, all of it, into my memory. It would never compare to this moment, yet I still grasped onto every little piece and locked the fragments into my mind.

We didn’t have the time to relish in each other anymore, the concealment of our indiscretion now immediately important before I could open the clinic door.

I moved messily to replace my blouse, brain still blurry with the sudden fall of my ascending pleasure, struggling with the buttons under the pressure of seconds ticking by. Poe plucked his shirt and jacket off the floor, shrugging them on one after the other, still looking as effortlessly handsome as before I rushed into his arms.

He held his hand out to help me off the bed and I took it gladly, stepping down with a gentle hop, shimmying down the tight fabric of my skirt as I walked to the door. Poe followed behind me, noticing in my peripheries as he held back to reposition himself, the evidence of our close contact harder for him to hide.

Taking one last moment to flatten the hair Poe had disrupted from my ponytail, I inhaled hard, focusing all my energy on the locked box hidden in the depths of my brain, covering it in as many invisible layers I could muster in the moment before opening the door.

Inquisitive faces greeted me, somehow both familiar and extremely foreign.

Finn, dark skinned and looking every bit of the typical rebel fighter, a tan pocketed jacket emblazoned with the Resistance insignia draping his torso, a blaster discretely holstered to his hip.

Rey was precisely how I imagined a young female Jedi to look, glowing sun-speckled skin with brown hair curled into three distinct buns, roughened white fabric wrapped meticulously around her petite yet strong looking frame, cinched at the waist by a thick brown strap where a silver lightsaber handle hung.

“Dr Jago?” Finn asked suspiciously, eyes narrowed in confusion.

I smiled sweetly, pretending these people hadn’t shown up in perfect time to rip Poe and I from our long-awaited entanglement. “That’s me, but please just call me Alex. You must be Finn.” I held out my hand for him to shake, and he took it strongly, face still contorted in doubt. I ignored it to greet Rey in the same fashion. “And you’re Rey, right? Poe told me you were coming.”

I tried to ignore the burning sensation of my lips, hoping they didn’t seem as swollen as they felt. She smiled just as kindly back at me, a radiance bursting from her expression so bright that I could feel it pulse into the shield I held around my shape.

She’s already so strong.

“It’s so good to meet you,” she greeted. “We’ve been told you’re to thank for saving our Commander’s life.”

“I was just doing my job,” I replied modestly, the itchy feeling of praise scratching me again.

Poe stepped into their view just as my words were spoken, pulling all of their focus with him. I slipped back to allow their joyful reunion to occur without the interruption of a stranger, each entering into an emotional hug, exclaiming how glad they were to see him alive and well. They seemed close, and it warmed me to see Poe so relieved to be in the presence of his friends.

They dived quickly into conversation, Finn and Rey describing their perilous journey here, having to navigate their way around the Indrexu Spiral, an asteroid and comet debris filled nebula separating Raxus from much of the galaxy.

As they spoke, I couldn’t help but study Rey’s face for any recognition, any single trace of suspicion connected to what I had buried away. There was nothing of note, no sliver of energy examining me. She seemed at rest, barely a fragment of attention focused in my direction.

It was towards the end of their conversing I noticed Poe glancing at me, implicating me as their topic of discussion. Finn and Rey had also looked my way, waiting for an answer.

“Sorry what?” I sputtered, broken free of my internal musings.

“The crash?” Finn repeated. “Did you see it happen?”

I shook my head, a memory of the booming sound it had made flashing in my mind. “Only the aftermath. But it was an incredibly hard collision, made the walls shake and everything.”

“And Poe hadn’t performed an emergency ejection, right?” Rey queried, significance weighing her question. It was obvious they were trying to collect some clues to the moments leading up to Poe’s accident.

“That’s right. He’d blown right through the transparisteel and landed not far from the hull. I believe it was that impact that broke his bones. His burns however, definitely occurred before that, since I’d found him in a space that hadn’t caught fire.”

Rey creased her eyebrows together. “So the X-wing was already on fire? Before it crashed?”

“That’s what we can gather,” Poe concurred while nodding to me, reiterating a conversation we’d had during our Sabbac game, when I was detailing the events from the night I found him. “Alex had already gotten me inside the clinic before the whole ship exploded, so there wasn’t really anything left to search over, to see what might have happened before I lost consciousness and crashed here.”

“Well, that pile of rubble won’t be giving us an answer anytime soon,” Finn agreed. His eyes then glanced to Poe, looking over him carefully, absorbed in his own thoughts before speaking up again. “Hey, what kind of bacta do you keep here? This guy barely looks like he’s had a dent put in him.”

Poe and Rey both shot him irritated looks.

“What? I’m just asking,” he huffed back.

I laughed cautiously. “It was decent quality bacta, I guess. I’d show you my stock but Poe’s injuries kinda cleaned me out.”

Hold on to that lie for dear life.

“It mustn’t have been that bad then? I mean, it took me two weeks soaking in a bacta coma to fix the cracks in my back. How come you got him walking within three days?”

“Finn!” Rey hissed.

Poe rolled his eyes. “Trust me. I felt the pain. It was bad,” he murmured. It still troubled him, the memory of it. I could tell in the smallest fluctuation in his voice.

Rather than retort with words I moved to find my data pad at the tech station, flicking the screen to the images of Poe’s X-rays, handing it to Finn. “Those were taken after I managed to pull the bone back under his skin,” I said curtly. I couldn’t help but feel a wash of insult come over me with his questioning. I still might have fixed that break just fine if it hadn’t caused a waterfall of blood to spurt out.

It was then a tendril of what felt like heavy smoke brushed at my skin, invisible, moving slowly over me, searching for an opening inside.

Rey had sensed the shift in my mood and was evidently trying to find the thought that caused it.

The cloud surrounded me in an instant, striving to break into the impenetrable shield.

It was time.

A moment I’d avoided for years, finally staring me in the face, here to test the defenses I'd worked so hard to build. The fog persisted to waft over, and I could feel Rey’s curiosity through the energy field she was secretly emitting. I didn’t dare look to her face, not wanting to seem as though I could sense what was happening, to give any evidence to her suspicion.

Finn had continued to look through my notes on Poe’s progress, his eyes scanning and widening as he read over the intimate details. The facts were there, with a small fabrication as to the method of mending the severed artery. I’d written that I’d managed to patch it with military grade fibrin glue, something I would never be able to afford or even have sent here in a zillion years.

But they wouldn’t know that.

It felt dirty inputting the forgery within Poe's notes, as dirty as I felt every other time I'd been forced to explain how a patient pulled through under my care. It was for their benefit, their life, but it still felt so unethical to lie.

“Where’d you learn to do this?” Finn finally asked, acknowledging the effort I had put into getting Poe back into the picture of health that stood with us.

“Coruscant, and a myriad of other planets I was sent to while stationed on hospital ships for war relief efforts.” Evidently Poe hadn’t gone into too much detail about my past, which I was grateful for.

“Well, you’re damn good, especially being so young,” Finn complimented, finally relaxing his stance. “Maybe if you were with the Resistance I wouldn’t have been in a bacta bubble for so long.”

I let my lips curl into an awkward smile. “I’m sure I would have done no better than the doctors there.”

“You sure? We could really use-”

“Finn,” Poe stopped, chuckling. “Don’t try the spiel on her. She’s not interested.” He gave me a comforting look, and it made me desperately want to turn back time, just to find myself in his arms again once more.

Finn shrugged, and turned to look at Rey, as I used the opportunity to peek at her face. Her head was tilted in subtle confusion, instantly knowing it was due to my shield holding strong against the inquisitive mist that wished to search through my mind. When my eyes drifted to hers it retracted, the intense haze promptly recoiling back into her body.

“Shouldn’t we get going?” Finn posed, raising his hand to pat Poe on the arm. “We’ve got orders to get our Commander back ASAP.”

Rey nodded, focused back onto the current circumstance. “Right,” she agreed, looking to Poe's tense expression. “Let’s get you home. Leia’s waiting for you.”

I felt the blood drain from my face, a cold shock fizzling in my bones. I had no willpower available to prevent myself from fixing my gaze to Poe's face, watching as he immediately glared back, a similar distress glowing in his irises.

“BB-8!” he suddenly yelled. “We can’t leave without him.”

His friends were in agreement, quickly realising the droid had yet to make his entrance.

“Oh! He’s, uh, in my quarters,” I mumbled, recalling I’d closed the door behind me with him still inside. “He barged in while you were in the ‘fresher.”

An immense awareness overcame Poe’s face, realising exactly what his little robot friend had done.

I motioned my head towards the hallway. “Let’s go retrieve him, and we can get your things from the office while we’re at it.”

He was responsive to the hidden meaning behind my request, explaining quickly to Finn and Rey, “We’ll be right back.”

He was at my heels, following me down the hallway, before I turned quickly into the darkened study, both of us slipping behind the door and clicking it shut. I was suddenly pressed against the wall, hands grasping at my waist as Poe’s lips found mine in the shadowed blackness. I kissed him urgently, clawing my fingers into his jacket to pull him closer.

This was it, our secret goodbye.

“He showed you,” Poe said softly after pulling away, forehead leaning into mine. I opened my lids, his eyes only barely visible by the subtle illumination afforded from the rim of the entryway.

“Only the important things,” I smirked. “Nothing confidential about your mission.”

He exhaled, breath brushing my cheeks. “Should have known he was recording, sneaky little droid.” His tone turned grim, a heavy moment hanging in the air between us. “So you understand why I have to leave.”

I brought my hand to his cheek, grazing my fingers on the skin. “I do. In the same way you know why I can’t go with you.”

Poe swallowed hard, his hands tensing their grip on me. “I’ll come back. If I get through this, I’ll come back to you. To finish what we started.”

“Okay,” I breathed. “Please don’t crash on another planet.”

He chuckled lowly before sinking onto my lips again, a kiss sweetened with meaning and... hope.

Hope for another chance to be in each other’s arms again.

*

I was the first to exit the study, a cold shiver moving through me, trying to grapple with my gloom while maintaining the buffer around my mind in case Rey made another effort to reach out again. Opening the door to my quarters, BB-8 waiting impatiently behind it. I kneeled down to speak to him directly, leaning in close. “Thank you BB,” I whispered.

He beeped expectantly at me, asking a question I somehow knew the answer to. When I nodded back, he wiggled his body gleefully, chattering a cascade of sweetened beeps. My smile was hard to contain, only slightly curious as to why this little droid was so invested in his owner’s love life.

I’d stood back up just as Poe pulled the office door closed, a satchel over his shoulder filled with some of the tools and spare parts I was more than happy to have offloaded, as well as some of the remnant tech of his flight suit that had survived after I’d ripped it to pieces.

He squinted at BB-8. “We’re going to have a stern discussion when we get on the Falcon,” he rumbled.

But BB-8 didn’t seem to care, squealing happily as he whizzed off down the hallway.

Poe and I took one last moment together, alone, in silence. I took his hand, squeezing it. “I’ll be waiting. You know where to find me,” I murmured delicately, motioning for him to lead the way.

There was an obvious turmoil in Poe's eyes, his jaw tense as pupils studied my face, strengthening our grip, before letting his hand slip from mine.

BB-8 was cheerfully enjoying the welcoming scritches of Rey as we entered into the clinic room, Finn bending down to pat the droids head. Both were clearly pleased he had managed to survive the ordeal as intact as Poe. On noticing our return, their postures straightened, an aura of urgency seeming to fill the atmosphere.

“Come on, Chewie’s waiting,” Finn encouraged. Each made their move to exit out the front door of the clinic as I followed slowly behind them, leaning my form against the frame of the door, watching hopelessly as Poe walked away.

I was furiously clutching the impulse to beg for him to stay when Rey veered back to me. Her abrupt turn set me on high alert, bracing my shield against any inquisitive energy. She leaned in close, a gentle kindness set in her demeanour. “Thank you. For what you did. If you ever need anything, the Resistance would be more than willing to help.”

I let go of the breath I was holding, beaming back at her. “Thank you, I appreciate that.”

Suddenly, an invisible pounding force hit my body, rattling every one of my senses. As my view came into focus again, Rey still standing before me, I knew she had felt the same thing.

Our eyes darted to the sky above us, a flickering light emanating from a lone ship only barely visible in the night sky. Reactions were synchronised, stares shooting back to each other, instantly comprehending exactly what was about to happen.

“Come with us,” she pleaded. “We can keep you safe.”

Finn and Poe had already looked back, not sensing the entrance of an enemy force into the atmosphere, only hearing Rey's hushed, imploring tone.

“Get out of here, while you can still do it unnoticed,” I hissed. “I can handle it.”

Poe stormed back over where we stood, already perceiving a rising problem. “What? What’s wrong?”

Rey and I looked to each other, gauging the thoughts showing in our eyes. I recklessly spoke first, regretting it the instant I slipped the words. “Poe, if you want to complete that mission, you need to get on that ship. Now.”

His face became hardened. “They found us, didn’t they?” His fiery stare moved between Rey and I, a heated impatience exploding in his expression when we didn’t answer immediately.

Eventually, Rey spoke calmly. “They’ll make landfall within the minute.” 

“Please go,” I begged. “They won’t hurt me as long as you make yourself scarce.”

“No,” he snarled. “I’m not leaving you here to face them.”

Rey rushed to face him, frantic. “She’s right. They’ll see she’s innocent in this. And then we can get far enough away that they won’t be able to track us.”

“You’ve seen how they interrogate people of interest Rey,” he protested. “They won’t just ask some questions and move on.”

“Poe!” Finn hollered, being privy to our conversation. “Stop being heroic for five minutes and let’s go!”

But, the moment for fleeing had passed.

A sleek black transporter ship was careening directly for us, no doubt having already spotted the unmistakable form of the Millennium Falcon. Poe rushed to me in long strides, gripping my wrist and attempting to pull me with him. “You have to come with us! They won’t let you stay here.” His eyes were frantic with fear.

He was right. I was now entangled within their web, simply by being seen fraternising with Resistance fighters. And the First Order wouldn’t take that lightly.

Damn it. Damn it all.

“Get on the Falcon,” Rey instructed, her voice formidable, turning to her comrades. “We’ll need to incapacitate whoever’s on this ship before we have a chance of leaving. She unclipped her lightsaber, looking to Finn with an unspoken message, before calling towards the ship. “Chewie! We need you! And bring an extra blaster!”

The ship had made a swift landing, dust swirling in the harsh white lights that illuminated the scene, hatch opening down in a speedy thunk.

I barely had time to peer at the figures exiting into the earthy fog before Poe had begun to usher me toward the Millennium Falcon, pressing hard on the small of my back, urging me to hurry. I heard the sound of Rey’s lightsaber springing to life with a low hum, before a distressed shout.

“Death troopers!”

I twisted around to face the enemy shapes, at least six of what looked like Stormtroopers, heavily clad in armour as black as the night around us, a green glow at the bottom of their helmets.

“I thought the First Order didn’t use them!” Poe bellowed.

“Well they do now!” Rey hollered, placing herself in a defensive stance.

The world around me erupted into chaos, a mess of blaster fire screeching into the spaces surrounding us. A red bolt shot towards Poe and I, barely allowing time to flee before it struck the ground in a sizzling puff of embers. I’d thrown myself onto my knees, covering my head as if it would be enough to shield me. Hesitantly, I looked up again to see a blaster flying over me, thrown from the looming Wookie storming towards us.

“Run Alex! Run to the ship!” Poe ordered, catching it easily within his grasp, firing directly into the fray of hostile soldiers. I straightened to follow his instruction, adrenaline making my legs feel like static, taking only a few irritatingly slow steps before a shower of blaster fire raced past my leg.

Truly the worst day to be wearing a skirt.

The shots were so close to my skin I could feel the heat sting me, causing a pain that made it even harder to keep my steps moving. I raced past Chewie, who had quickly joined his friends in returning fire on the encroaching Death troopers. Behind me I made out the noise of a lightsaber blade scorching against armour, another pained grunt filling the air amongst the discharge of lasers. The sound burned me, familiar and agonising, guilt uncontrollably surging through my body.

I was almost at the ramp when another Death trooper entered from under the cover of night, blaster raised with threatening intent.

Asshole must have slipped around in the darkness.

I froze immediately, waiting for the pain of burning laser to hit. But the trooper simply moved forward, and instinct caused me to step backward in panic, legs shaking. My hands were quivering just as much, raising them up in a signal of surrender. I wanted to speak, to attempt to explain my lack of allegiance to the group they were hunting, but it occurred to me - I would probably be wasting my words.

The trooper continued to edge me back towards the skirmish playing out behind us, forcing me away from the shelter of the Falcon. He had brought his blaster higher to his helmet, aiming, poised to shoot if I made the slightest move to run again.

The barrage of blaster fire continued to pierce the atmosphere, and I was desperate to turn around, only to see if Poe and his friends were still alive in the midst of it all. But I was forced into submission by the menacing stranger in front of me, now pushing as much distance as they could between me and my escape.

A lone shot then flew past my hip, hitting the Death trooper in an apparent weak spot on his knee, the laser searing through his armour and into the skin beneath. He fell to the ground gasping in pain, the recognisable smell of burnt flesh filtering into my nose.

My head swivelled to the origin of the well-placed shot, seeing Chewie let out a bellowing growl, before returning to the direction where two Death troopers still remained standing. I scanned quickly to find Poe and Finn engaged in combat with a sole trooper, ducking and weaving out of the melee strikes of their opponent, trying to gain an opportunity to use their blasters to break through the thick armour. My attention was suddenly called to the body on the ground next to me, as I made out the crackle of a transmission message. “The rebels were here, including the Jedi,” the distorted voice shouted behind his helmet. “Alert the Supreme Leader. And send assistance.”

“They’re calling for backup!” I yelled, running over to the scene of battle, hoping my voice would carry over the swish of Rey’s lightsaber and countless blaster bolts. “Kylo Ren knows you’re here!”

My shriek sprouted a moment of distraction from the Death troopers, allowing Rey to make a fatal swing into her opponents back, his figure crumbling to the ground in a sizzling heap. Finn was also able to make a daring move to sweep his foot around the ankle of the second trooper, causing him to stagger into the bombardment of shots from Poe’s blaster.

“Everybody on the Falcon, now!” Poe ordered.

Our movements were synchronised as we made a break for the ship from differing points on the field. I wasn’t as quick as the others, the burns on my legs not dulled by adrenaline anymore, limping into a run. Each had already made it up the ramp when I felt two excruciating scalds strike my thigh, making me tumble to the ground, screeching in pain.

“Alex!” I heard Poe shout, the thump of my heartbeat drowning out the sound. I could barely make out his figure on the ramp of the ship, my eyes blurred in agony.

“Go! You don’t have time!” I heaved back, breathless.

“She’s right Poe!” Finn had his hand gripped around his arm, trying to pull him up into the ship’s interior. “We’ll all die if we stay any longer!”

My strength to stay alert was wavering, feeling the wounds already seeping blood onto my skin and into the ground beneath me. Poe wrestled under Finn’s clutch, fighting the truth of his statement. But the logical side of his brain was triumphant, ending his defiance against the pull on his body inside the Falcon.

“I’ll find you! I promise!” he shouted in the moment before the ships ramp retracted and the engines roared into life. It moved swiftly into the sky, disappearing into the night within seconds, a burst of light glinting into a brushed line, zooming into hyperspace before I even took my next breath.

I turned myself onto my back, gasping through the throbbing ache of my leg wound. Using my last whispers of strength, I rose into a seated position, flinching hard at the jolt of pain caused by movement. I then ripped one of my sleeves off from the shoulder stitch, tearing the fabric into two strips. One was folded into a square, placing it over as much of the two blaster wounds as I could. The other I wrapped around my leg, holding the makeshift gauze in place. When the knot was tied I crashed into the ground, energy swiftly dissolving.

Only minutes had passed before I heard the sounds of more transports landing, a cold rush of fear swarming through my chest. I didn’t move, but the crunching steps that exited the ships still made their way directly towards my body. A collection of white Stormtrooper helmets came into view above, circling around my vision.

“Only one rebel in the vicinity. Should we terminate?” one of the masked figures questioned into his headset.

“I’m not with the Resistance,” I huffed, my voice losing power. One of the troopers kicked me, sending a thrill of pain from my wound into the rest of my body, my eyes stinging with tears.

“Bring them back to the Finalizer,” a grizzled voice responded on the comm-system. “Alive.”

~

Next Chapter

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[bananaflavoredlemonade]

Can someone please take THIS Maura and THIS Jane and continue THIS AU I started work on and cannot for the life of me manage to find the time nor energy to work on. 

RIZZLES COLLEGE AU

She was an enigma, this mystery woman. You’d probably seen her a dozen times before you even spoke a single word to each other. She was always just around. You’d spot her leaning casually against the side of an old black Jeep Wrangler, jeans hanging low on her hips and ill-fitting Red Sox t-shirt slung over her frame. She’d wizz past you as she chased a frisbee across the quad, or pause her rush out of doors to silently hold them open for you before fleeing back off. Her laugh would catch you mid-bite of your salad and without fail every time you’d spin to find her cackling with her mouth wide and half chewed food balancing precariously on her white teeth. For reasons you could not explain, you were obsessed. When her air freshener caught your eye, you’d gone home and spent hours scouring specialty air freshener companies to figure out who the man was who’s head was lucky enough to grace her presence. Someone named Jim Halpert was quite the lucky gentleman. And maybe if knowing exactly what her car smelt like before you got anywhere near it filled you with butterflies and warmth well… who could blame you.

She pulls into her typical parking space and waves enthusiastically at a beautiful young man with deliciously creamy chocolate skin and your heart stalled into a palpitation. Watching her tug on a t-shirt over her bikini top and taut abs certainly didn’t help. But when she climbed from the topless car in the sweltering summer heat and clapped a hand on his shoulder blade in a friendly greeting, you caught your breath and heaved a small sigh of relief. Maybe becoming enamoured with a complete stranger was not the best decision.

You’re staring down at your phone, speed walking across the quad to get to your next class when heavy footfalls start landing beside you. Black Nike slides are beside your birkenstocks as they pass over the grass you’re crossing and you immediately question the motivations of whomever would choose to wear white tube socks with a sandal-style shoe. That is until the culprit speaks and you realise that you absolutely should’ve picked it sooner.

“Maura Isles” the gravelly voice speaks as a hand casually comes to your lower back and averts you from becoming roadkill under the size 13’s of some speedy and oblivious jock running across your path. “You’re quite the hazard. With your head down all the time, or staring off into space. One of these days someone is going to wipe you out and I’ll have to take out a douche in a jersey, then we’ll have trouble.”

Her eyes are such a deep brown that you’re unsurprised you’ve been unable to make out her eye colour from afar. “You know my name.” it’s a ridiculous statement to make, but instead of judging you she simply laughs with her head thrown back and hand still burning a hole into your lower back.

You’re almost at the study hall that you’ll be trapped in for the next hour and for once you aren’t looking forward to class. “Of course I do.” You quirk your brow at her, because you’re almost certain you’ve never interacted with any of the people you’ve seen her around, she’s definitely not in any of your classes, and this is the first time you’ve spoken. “It’s on your phone case.”

In your palm, you flip over your leather encased phone to survey the back where – as you already know – ‘M. Isles’ is imprinted in silver. “Ah, yes.”

“I usually only see those with initials. But then again; I’m no phone expert. Mine are typically held together by duct tape and desperation.”

Your eye roll is instantaneous and unavoidable as you helpfully relay to her, “My mother. She insists that I ‘take pride’ in my name. So when I requested a personalised phone case with my initials on it and opened this, I was truly unsurprised.” You pause to laugh “displeased, but unsurprised.”

Her feet stop suddenly as you reach the lecture hall and her calloused hands disappear into the pockets of her short black shorts, fingers outlined within her pockets as the tips force the inners of the pockets from the bottoms of her shorts. “Well, this is you.” You look up and it is. You open your mouth to ask how she knew, but she’s already speaking. “It was nice speaking to you, Maura Isles.” It’s absolutely salacious the way that your name rolls off of her tongue and for the first time possibly ever, you’re pleased to hear someone use your full name.

Only, you’ve just realised that you’re unsure how she knows your first name. By the time you get around to asking, she’s already backing away with you with a smirk on her face. “Hold on! How did you know my name is Maura? That’s not written anywhere.”

Her singular stride back towards you is so deliciously long and your eyes are helpless against the tantalising display of thigh muscle on display when she leans towards you to whisper “You have quite the intriguing Tinder profile. I put two and two together.” Closely resembling a fish out of water, you watch as she chuckles and backs away with a wink. “Have fun in Bio.”

“What’s your name?” You call after her much louder than is necessary. She says absolutely nothing as she raises her hand in the air above her head so that you can see if over her shoulder and makes a repeated swiping motion, her thumb moving to the right repeatedly before slipping back into the pocket of her shorts.

And if you spend your entire class with your head down and eyes intently focused on the app you’ve left untouched for months, swiping left for the next 37.5 minutes until a tanned and angled face with sparking eyes is looking at you from your screen over aviator sunglasses; well you’ve never been known to back down from a challenge. “Jane” you say aloud before closing the app on a photo of her chiselled abs and bulging biceps straining against the weight above her head.

Two days later you pass her once again leaning against her jeep in the ridiculous socks and slides combo that makes you smile despite the fashion atrocity that’s being committed. You’re not close enough to speak, and even if you were, you’re unsure you’d be able to stop the beautiful black boy in his monologue long enough to get a word in. But her eyes are on you below the sunglasses she placed on her head as you began to approach. When you quirk a smile and silently mouth “Hello Jane” you know that she’s caught your greeting. And as a smile takes over her face, you raise your phone between you and swipe left on her profile. “Work for it” you mouth with a wink.

It’s worked. Her mouth drops open, pupils and eyes blowing wide. You can feel them trailing after your swaying hips and short shorts, and the burn they leave on your ass is delicious. Game on.

It’s over a week before there is any indication that Jane is going to meet your challenge with anything more than a heated look and tantalising lip bite from across the quad. However hope is struck every day that you spot her loitering around the college grounds, and that’s just enough to keep you from giving up. You’re walking out of your Tuesday morning chemistry lecture when she sweeps in next to you.

There’s a single yellow sunflower in between the fingers of her left hand and her right comes to rest hotly against your lower back. She’s dressed unseasonably warm in a white button-up and black jeans that are folded up at the ankles and skimming the top of brown leather boots. It makes you feel inferior in your simple sundress and standard birkenstocks. “For you.” She smiles, holding the sunflower in front of you. The nervousness in her eyes sets off butterflies in your stomach.  

“Thank you, it’s beautiful.” Her nervous energy shifts to confidence as you sniff the flower and hold it close to your shy smile. “What’s the occasion? It feels like such a privilege to see you in something other than jock couture.”

“Jock couture?” she snickers. “What exactly is jock couture?”

You look her up and down appraisingly with a cheeky raised eyebrow before muttering “Socks and slides” disapprovingly with a nod towards her feet “running shorts, oversized shirts, baseball caps.” She laughs at you with her head thrown back and her perfect white teeth on show. “I would make the assumption that if we were to open your closet, you’d be able to dress the entirety of the football and baseball teams with its contents and not have anyone question it.”

“I don’t know, I don’t think Frost would look nearly as good as me in my shorts.” Your eyes shift to the parking lot where unsurprisingly your eyes clap onto the beautiful African-American man you’ve seen Jane talking with previously. “Now can we please stop slamming me for how I have been dressed, and appreciate the effort I put in today?” Your eyes run over her form again and you do have to agree that she looks great. “I’m sweating my ass off to try and look half decent.”

You stop her in the middle of the footpath and turn to look at her approvingly. The hand on your back slips off and comes to rest in her pocket as she watches you looking her up and down. “You do look very handsome.” Her approving smile has you nervously shifting your bag up your shoulder and you have to shake your head to dislodge the smitten look on your face. “Now why are you looking so dashing?”

“You’ll see” she winks as she spins you back into motion and suddenly you’re striding back down the footpath towards the restricted Phelman quad that sits to the side of the western lecture halls, and at the base of the Phelman dorms. You’re about to comment that the area is only accessible to tenants of the dorms when she tugs the Red Sox lanyard from her pocket, swipes a fob against the gates keypad and pushes against the ornate entrance. She guides you in and gestures to a picnic blanket set up in the centre of the grassed area. “Everyone’s gotta eat.”

You’re too busy standing in awe of her to follow over to the blanket. However, your eyes track her over to the set up and watch as she rests down on the mat, pulling out containers and drinks from a cooler. She sets down a tray of assorted sushi, a bowl of salad, a packet of your favourite lentil chips, and a tub of homemade guacamole. It all looks delicious and your mouth salivates so aggressively that you doubt you’ll need the soda water or iced tea she’s brought to wash down your meal. “How?” you mutter in disbelief, and it shocks you when Jane smiles up at you charmingly. You were sure she’d not’ve been able to hear you.

“I.. um…” She rubs the back of her neck nervously and you finally see another side to the cocky seductress you’d spent weeks surveying. “I guessed at most of it, but I saw you eating these chips the other day while you read under that big oak by Mossman Hall, and I’ve seen you pick this iced tea from the vending machine before. So I figured they were both a safe bet.” She shifts the tray of sushi out of the way and pulls a wireless speaker from the cooler to put in its place. “I got some vegetarian options if you don’t eat meat, but honestly I don’t know a twenty year old who doesn’t like sushi so..”

Her hands are shifting so nervously over the picnic rug that you feel the need to take pity on her. “Are you making a generalisation Jane?” Her eyes trail you as you hike up your skirt in anticipation of sitting down next to her, and as your fingers skim the tops of your thighs as you lower, you see her breath catch.

Her eyes are on your face as you reach for the container of guac and inspect the flecks of coriander, onion, and chilli that you can see mixed amongst the avocado. “Yeah I guess I was.” You laugh at her and peer up from under your eyelashes. “But it took me a week to figure out the chips and tea, so if you wanted I could go away and come back in a month with a more personalised menu.” She jokingly pushes up from her seated position and you tug her back to the rug with a laugh.

You’re typically hesitant to use colloquialisms or any term that had to be inducted into the Urban Dictionarybefore it could be submitted to Websters, but you know from observing Jane that they’re all frequent participants in her vocabulary, so you resolve to at least try. Starting by venturing with the statement, “Well I guess then that you could call me a ‘typical white girl’, because I am quite fond of Sushi. Though I would prefer traditional Nigiri, I’ve been known to consume a westernised sushi roll in between classes.”

Jane looks as if she is about to choke on the air trapped between her cheeks and you know that the laugh will be explosive when it’s released. “Did that sound as ridiculous as it felt to say?” She nods at you and releases the laugh through her teeth. You laugh along with her and rub your forehead, “Colloquialisms and I are not exactly what you would call well acquainted.”

“You’re just not at all what I would call a ‘basic white girl’ is all.” You blush and reach for your sunglasses inside your handbag, hoping to provide yourself with an escape from both the sun and her stare. “You’re unique, Maur. Don’t ever take that for granted.” You clasp eyes with her before you can secure the Ray Bans across your eyes and the look you share is intense. She’s burning into something so much deeper than your eyes, and you don’t know how to appropriately characterise it without venturing into a belief system that you’ve never before given an ounce of credit. Eventually you both slip from the visual embrace and as you raise the glasses into place, she presses play on the speaker, softly releasing the first bars of Surprise Yourself by Jack Garratt. You’d be flawed by the immediate similarities in your music taste if it weren’t for your brain already stalling at how beautiful she looks tipping her face towards the sunshine. Maybe ‘Handsome’ wasn’t quite as apt a descriptor as you’d thought at the time. With the sunshine on her high cheekbones and rays kissing at her exposed chest beyond the opened buttons of her shirt, she is decidedly striking in a uniquely feminine way that you’d not considered moments ago.

You’d spent some time talking idly about your families – jane has two younger brothers and her mother, her father has been absent for the past few years -, the weather, and your classes that are scheduled for the remainder of the day. Jane tells you about the boutique florist just off campus that she’d visited for your flower and promises to take you sometime when you fail to hide your delight at the news of a new local source for your botany habit. You’ve worked your way through a good portion of Jane’s playlist and its as Falling Down by This Wild Life begins lilting through the speakers that you realise that for the first time in what feels like forever, you’re not uncomfortable with another human being. You slip your feet out of your birks and tuck your legs up under you, sipping at the soda water in your faux flute while you watch Jane swipe a napkin across her plump lower lip. It’s infuriatingly seductive for such an unconscious action. A sigh of contentment runs through you and you shift again to stretch your legs out, flexing your toes into the points that years of ballet had made commonplace. Jane watches the action and you rest back on your elbows, body fully extended and at ease. “What just happened here?” she queries, motioning to your body.

You sigh and tilt your hear towards the sky, “Whatever do you mean?”

“This” she says, eyes raking over your form, “Something just happened with you.”

“I guess I’m just comfortable” you say to the sky, lips parting in a relaxed smile. “humans are.. they’re not an area I excel in.”

Her boot taps the bottom of your foot and she giggles. “Arent you pre-med? I hate to break it to you, but you’ll need to deal with one or two of ‘em after you graduate.”

You smile in her direction in the same relaxed way you had been earlier, “I’m studying to be a pathologist. I know that I’d be a disadvantage to the medical community if I were to work with live patients. My social skills are questionable at best, completely inept at worst. I’m incompatible with most personality types, and my lack of understanding around social queues and societal norms makes me somewhat unappealing to most people.” You meet her eyes when you say the next part, “So to realise that in this moment I’m at ease..” you trail off into a sweet sigh, “it’s so lovely.”

“I’m glad I could do that for you.”

“So tell me about you Jane” you say from your reclined position, eyes closing against the warmth of the sun. “I know so little about you, apart from your family, your evident love of the Red Sox, and the fact that you watch The Office.”

Jane laughs into the air, “How do you know I watch The Office?”

“Your air freshener. It is Jim Halpert from The Office, right?” She gives you a disbelieving look. “I googled it.”

Her smile is infectious and you can feel it projecting into the side of your face from where she sits across from you. “You would be correct Doctor Isles.” She boosts her body up into a more prone position and leans towards you. “Where to start..”

You speak up from your position, “Should we start with what you’re doing on campus? I assume you don’t study here. I’ve never seen you in a class, you never have any books, and you always seem to be the centre of whatever social gathering is happening in the parking lot.” She gives you a comical glare and you challenge her with a quirked brow, “Am I wrong?”

“No, you’re not wrong.” You exchange a smile and your face returns to the sky. “A lot of my buddies go here. Frost who you would’ve seen, Riley, Joey, and a couple of the guys from my baseball league. Between their classes and my work schedule it’s easier for us to just catch up here. I get out of my shitty little apartment, and they don’t have to travel off campus.”

“Work” you offer helpfully.

“I’m a security guard. I mostly work nights at private events for the upper crust crowd. My boss, Korsak, he’s an ex cop, teaches me things on the go so that I can be prepared when I finally get around to enrolling in the academy.”

You smile to yourself, truly unsurprised by this revelation. “When are you planning to apply?”

Jane is reaching for the leftover lentil chips from your lunch when she answers you, “Most likely in the winter. I didn’t wanna just leap right in. I wanted to be prepared, ya’know.” She puts a couple of chips in her mouth and speaks while she chews. A truly repulsive habit that you have to keep your eyes closed against. “Work on my form, get all my ducks lined up, prepare my Ma. She’s gonna have a real hard time accepting that I’m signing up to chase criminals and murderers every day. Plus I wanted to take the time to really get myself mentally prepared; Korsak talks all the time about Cadets and Rookies who join the academy all gung-ho and then drop out when they cant hack the pace. The way he tells it, they all crap out because of the mental strain.” Jane eats a whole handful of chips in one mouthful and continues to speak as crumbs fall from her lips, “We all oviuzlee in peak pisikal fom wen we sign up. Couple-a push ups aren’t taking this down.” She slaps a hand against her stomach that echoes hollowly the way that only a perfectly-toned abdomen would. Crumbs dislodging from her shirt.

“Speaking with your mouth full is a truly repulsive habit.” You tilt your head in her direction and look over your sunglasses at her.

“So sorry Mrs Manners.”

Your face tilts back up to the sun when you respond, “That’s an admirable career choice Jane. When did you decide you wanted to work in law enforcement?”

[theterribletenno]

Lobo, the Werewolf warframe

This should be easy... but fun. I know a werewolf is pretty tame for most of you professional-grade monsterfuckers but you did ask for one. It can't be all tentacles all the time, you know.

Health: 200 (600 at rank 30) Shields: 120 (360 at rank 30) Armor: 275 Energy: 100 (150 at rank 30) Sprint Speed: 1.25

Passive: If Lobo has been continuously sprinting for more than 5 seconds without using attacks or abilities he will drop down on all fours, gaining 25% sprint speed. While sprinting on all fours Lobo becomes immune to knockdown effects. This is cancelled if Lobo loses momentum, attacks, or uses an ability. Maneuvers such as jumping, sliding, and wall-running will not cancel the effect as long as Lobo does not fall below a certain threshold of momentum.

Ability 1: Amarok's Claws, 25 energy. Lobo dashes between enemies within a cone 15 meters long and cuts them down with his deadly claws. The first strike inflicts 350 slash damage with 100% status chance, with each successive attack in the combo dealing 100 more damage than the previous. If this ability is activated again within 4 seconds the combo damage carries over.

Ability 2: Asena's Howl, 50 energy. Lobo takes a deep breath and lets out a long, loud howl that terrifies all nearby enemies. Causes all enemies within 20 meters to enter a state of panic for 20 seconds. While panicked, enemies will not attack and will haphazardly flee, exposing themselves and reducing their armor by 40%.

Ability 3: Skoll's Pounce, 50 energy. Lobo leaps onto an enemy within 30 meters and 15 degrees of his crosshairs and performs an automatic melee finisher attack that deals 200% extra damage. If the enemy is immune to finishers Lobo will perform a claw attack that deals 500+X slash damage (where X is equal to the targeted enemy's level times 10) with 100% status chance and momentarily stagger the enemy (if they can be staggered). If the finisher kills its target, 50% of Skoll's Pounce's energy cost is refunded.

Ability 4: Fenrir's Fury, toggled ability consumes 3 energy per second. When activated, Lobo surges with the power of legendary wolf-beasts. His muscles swell and his fangs and claws grow longer. While Fenrir's Fury is active Amarok's Claws have their base damage increased to 500, Asena's Howl strips 60% of enemy armor, and Skoll's Pounce has its extra damage increased to 300%. Additionally, Lobo heals himself for 5% of all damage dealt by slash procs inflicted by his abilities and weapons.

Subsumed Ability: Skoll's Pounce.

Signature Weapons Rufus: Paint the town red with this flesh-rending shotgun. Lobo's signature firearm, a bulky Tenno shotgun that fires shrapnel shells. Semi-auto primary shotgun, deals mostly slash damage with very low puncture and impact. High damage at the cost of low firing speed. High status at the cost of low crit. When wielded by Lobo this weapon deals 100% increased damage to enemies affected by Asena's Howl. Lycaon: Rip out your enemies' guts with Lobo's signature clawed melee weapon, the deadly Lycaon. With heavy blades that rip and tear with every slash, this weapon shreds enemies into bloody chunks. High per-hit damage and above-average range for a claw melee weapon offset by decreased attack speed. High status at the cost of low crit. Deals mostly slash damage with moderate impact and puncture. This weapon's combo multiplier contributes 0.05 to its attack speed for every combo counter bonus tier up to a maximum of 0.5. When wielded by Lobo this weapon's combo duration is increased by 5 seconds.

Damn that was easy... that took like... two hours to design his whole kit lol. There are some Bad Warframes that I spent whole days agonizing over. His abilities are named after legendary wolves from various cultures. Rufus is the scientific name of the red wolf, and Lycaon is the scientific name of the Eastern wolf.

[grishaversebigbang]

#62 - long divided must unite

#62 - the bound arrows

Project Info

Gang name: the bound arrows

Working title/description: long divided must unite

Synopsis:  Upon their return to Shu Han, Ehri and Mayu, princess and bodyguard, don’t really trust each other—but they trust one another more than anyone else in Ahmrat Jen, especially as members of the court begin to question the Taban dynasty mandate of Heaven. An ill omen, as within a month of their return, Mayu hears whispers of a sinister plot against the throne. In order to save her country, Ehri must seek and receive the divine blessings of the Six Soldiers--with only Mayu as her blade, support, and companion--and present them to the Shu to prove the Taban dynasty still has the favor of the heavens and the Shu people. Ehri, after all, has always thought of herself as a princess of the people. Through the course of their pilgrimage, though, Ehri and Mayu start to question what it means to be royalty, to be chosen by the heavens, in a world with so much suffering.

Short excerpt:  Mayu’s muscles protest with every step, the sun’s heat pressing down onto her bared shoulders. Mayu had thought to wake up early and run through her forms before the day became too hot, but once she began, Mayu found it hard to pull herself out of the meditative trance of physical training. It had been over a month, maybe two, since she last had the time to dedicate to her arts. When she was training, before Issak and Ehri and the khergud, when she was still learning how to devote her life to the dynasty, she had been made to practice her forms for six hours a day, even before morning lessons. The Tavgharad armory had everything she’d needed to perfect her talents with each of the Eighteen Arms; here, in this disused royal villa where they’ve holed up since fleeing the court, all Mayu has is her jian, but it’s a reliable and strong blade. It’s enough--enough to protect the two of them, Mayu hopes.

Mayu treads back to the main house, stopping to pick up the outer robes she’d shedded as the morning light turned into afternoon heat. The shade of the covered walkways is cool against Mayu’s sun-soaked skin, and even a little chilly where her sweat streaks down her body. She pauses at the paper screen door, before sliding it open and walking into the main house. The light pours in from the windows, bright dust motes whirling in gentle indifference to Mayu. Mayu’s heart starts to beat harder as she looks toward the empty bed and then to the clay tea cup on the table. Mayu pulls her blade from its sheath. Whoever took Ehri must’ve been silent; Mayu was just outside all morning.

Mayu hears a painful sigh coming from the opposite side of the room. Dashing over with sword at the ready, Mayu hopes and prays to any god that’s listening for Ehri to still be- Mayu rounds the corner, and what she sees is a large copper bath, filled with ricewater, and the unbound dark hair of Princess Ehri Kir-Taban cascading over the rim and down to the floor. Mayu freezes for just a second before turning around.

“Your highness, my apologies--I had thought that someone had broken in, so I-” Mayu stops herself from speaking further. She can feel her ears and cheeks flush; this warmth is more penetrating than training in the mountain sun.

“Oh, Mayu,” Ehri replies, calmly. Does nothing unsettle this woman? But Mayu doesn’t dare say that aloud; instead she just waits for the punishment she might face for imposing upon the royal body, even accidentally. “Please, would you help me wash my hair? It’s rather long--Taban women don’t cut it--and I’ve always had handmaidens to help.”

Mayu flushes redder and sheathes her sword, just to do something with her hands. She tries to regain the tranquility from her morning routine, but it’s drowned beneath visions of long black hair and glimpses of pale skin.

Gang Members

Etherealki

@reinventweather​​

Coroporalki

@bailinghams

Materialki

@kavinskysdick​

@dameronfinn​