#A WEE BIT TOO DANGEROUS IF YOU ASK ME LMAO BUT

[saltpepperbeard]

yes, but are you mentally ill and/or pirate-deprived enough to make gentlebeard in heroforge? 🫡

[darksxder]

the good plant pollen

pairing: fem! recom reader x na’vi miles quaritch

summary: getting hit by a sex pollen on your first mission as a recom was not exactly ideal, but thankfully your colonel helps you out

warnings: dubious consent (due to sex pollen), pwp, masturbation, sexual tension, p in v sex, public sex, voyeurism, creampie, breeding kink, dirty talk, na’vi heat cycle/sex pollen, power dynamics for sure (you’re his subordinate)

word count: 12.5k (HELLO???) not even sorry, my hands ache tho (from typing, not anything weird)

a.n: i requested something similar from @shadowshart but realized I wanted to play with this idea myself also lmao (read their story it slaps!)

GOT CARRIED AWAY WITH BACKSTORY I'M SORRY OKAY.

also thank u to my roomie for helping me with ideas, love u s.

dts: to the lovely @shadowshart herself (im ur biggest fan fr, sorry i flood your inbox) & @tarrynightss for beta reading, love you bae <3, @spiderlover03 for wanting this fic so bad and always, @belle82devart​     

*******

You wouldn't be in this situation if you paid attention.

You swear it.

You knew you should have been paying attention to Darcy as she pointed out things from the slideshow of venomous and otherwise deadly plants and wildlife on Pandora to avidly avoid, but you swore you knew it all already. Or at least you think you did from your other life.  

You remember certain blurry flashes of colours and ramblings of a safety meeting, the dim room packed with row after row of benches full of whispers and muddled mumbles of ‘dangerous’, ‘claws’ ‘toxins’ ‘ leaching from skin’. Just a monotonous repeat of: ‘deadly’, ‘deadly’, ‘deadly.

All you could truly remember was watching Quaritch’s arms flex as he addressed you all, the way his face tensed as he spoke, just an octave under a yell, always. The strain in his neck. You were in the front row, leaning in, all for the guise of catching every word he spoke and you had at the time, but still, he was the major thing on your mind even then.

And now he was still a distraction, with his thick thigh pressed against yours, his heat leeching off of him and gripping at you, travelling up your side, up your neck, tingles spreading through your extremities. If you moved away an inch you would be on Lyle’s lap. That was not an option despite the constant light flirtatious jokes shared between you.

And no matter how sick it was, you enjoyed this stolen touch. It still felt forbidden. Probably because it still was.

He was still your colonel, you were still his subordinate.

How unlucky to be given the chance to live two separate lives where you were infatuated with him, and in both, you could not have him.

He didn't seem to mind this touch now so why would you? Honestly due to this you truly had no chance of paying attention to this safety presentation before the mission. It would have usually had your rapt attention, but something about this morning had you anxious and the touch of Quaritch had your stomach all fluttery and your mind wandering as the scientist spoke.

She was a mean woman, about your age, or at least the age you were as a human, your na’vi body was only 20. She had fierce red-brown hair that hung in long, frizzy waves. A headband pushed the bangs back from her face harshly as she rolled up her sleeves and continued talking. On her pale face, she wore teal eyeliner, and you suspected it was a strange way to place herself firmly in the recom team spirit, but what got you was her personality. She was fiery, she bit back at everyone, insults that went a toe too far, were her supposed comfort, terrorizing her fellow scientists through nitpicks and badgering in sickly sweet mocking tones in the morning and dragging them to the lab past reasonable hours.

Overall just metaphorically making them bend to kiss her feet.

Quaritch liked her. Not enough to like her as a person, but enough to appreciate the snark, the tone. Enough to ask general Admore to put her on their team for good the first week when she yelled at one of her many scientist underlings who got in Quaritch’s pathway.

Sometimes you wondered if he fucked her.

But when you did, you got sick at the thought and quickly extinguished it.

You focus back, feel the rumbling of the bench underneath you. Lyle was laughing beside you so loud it reverberated through the metal. Your eyes snapped up to see a deep red, long-leaved plant displayed on the screen and all of the recoms laughing. Darcy looked a bit too pleased with her ability to make Lyle wheeze.

“Overall it's not exactly supplying the good type of plant pollen if you know what I mean.” A wink. You did not indeed know what she meant and you heard Quaritch huff a laugh behind you.

“ Unless you like being on a rock for hours, I guess. There is a reason the na’vi call it the tsewtx toruk ”

Mansk spoke behind you. “The fuck does that mean?”

You laughed, which made Darcy glare at you. “It means dirty dragon. Its namesake is for its potency, strength and umm… tenacity or stamina it gives the user. As well as the physical symptoms of intense fever and hot flashes. But again like everything else, it is deadly. You would fuck till you drop essentially. Stay away.” A click and she was onto something new and you tuned her out again. Willing yourself to soon be able to make it out of the room, to be without her nasally voice if even for only an hour’s reprieve.

You were still focused on other things, panic flaring as you remembered you got up late this morning. Now mentally calculating how fast you would have to be after the meeting to make it back to your bunk and clean up your station before bed check later when you got back. But you focused pivoted again.

Not very far, just to your right.

Your colonel was so very close to your side. You were trying not to stare, truly, but you knew you weren't doing a good job. Your side eyes were never particularly subtle, Mansk and Lyle told you this for years and yet you continued. You couldn't control it. And it didn't help that you were much more noticeable in your na’vi body.

******

You were used to being firmly human and tiny for your age.

You were a stealth operative under Miles Quaritch for the RDA at twenty years old nearly 14 years ago. A lifetime ago. Able to even sneak past every na’vi and even Eywa herself they swore, but you never thought that was quite true. They nicknamed you Ghost anyways.

You pretended to hate it.

But when you had snuck into their village one day when they were gone to the river for a ceremony, taking pictures of the internal structures undetected, the team had celebrated you. Seriously celebrated, and even made a makeshift cupcake to commemorate the breakthrough. But it was not something done lightly and the cupcake was neither edible nor good, but you had eaten it. Had smiled, and allowed yourself to be jostled by firm slaps and pats on the back of Wainfleet and the rest as the guilt gnawed at you slowly.

But Quaritch noticed, he always did.

He found you out on the bridge that night, leaning against the rail as you gazed at the depths of emerald tones that made up the forest.

“You did well today. I know it’s difficult, soldier, but you did well.”

You looked up, startled to see him at your side. So much taller than you, even as a human. White hair cropped short and clothes pressed even at the late hour. Not a single wrinkle.

The deep scars on the side of his head caught in the blue-white light of Hell’s Gate’s fluorescents as he talked. They almost shined as if they were a platinum badge. His blue eyes lit up an icy hue. You felt your palms sweat as you readjusted your grip, feeling yourself shake just slightly. The once-chilled air of the brig was warm as you felt him step beside you.

Always on your right side, after having noticed you tense the first day, when he saddled up to your left. You had bad hearing on the left side and hated the anxiety of someone being on that side. He switched wordlessly when he saw you tense. His jaw set, eyes facing forward. He did it wordlessly and never left that right side view since then, even when agitated at you.

Especially then.

If he didn't like you, which you were sure he didn't, he at least respected you.

That was rare for him and it was enough.

It was enough.

But now as you try to shove images of burning forests and screaming na’vi from your mind you could barely see him. You were so tangled, knotted and sick at the way you would be and always were in a way a part of it. All of the atrocities, the death. Once you had been passive but now you had chosen to be firmly active.

He followed your gaze to your hands, you could feel it before you matched his stare to your white knuckle grip on the metal rail. You unclenched, shaking out your burning hands. A deep sigh rumbled from his chest, the sound seemingly following the curve of your spine as he leaned back. Dog tags clinked as he leaned farther forward over the rail to properly see you, to meet your eye. You indulged him only just to see his gaze be soft if only for a fleeting second as you gave in. You were always nervous about its absence, but it was always there. For you, at least.

You tried to smile, but it was barely a twitch of your lips, your knees aching as you tensed next to him. You had been standing here for hours after the so-called ‘party’ had died down.

Music booming in your ears, rattling your hunched frame in the corner as a small smile twitched at your lips to assuage that you were okay as the world fell apart around you. Breathing in the stale air of the gym in the brig, smelling dust, metal and sweat and of course the sweet vodka peach drink Zdinarsk spilled on your elbow as you moved past her. You took in everything as you sunk into the concrete behind you, revelling in the cold bite of the chilled material. Just watched as Zdog and Prager shouted lyrics to a Jay Z song, fingers pointing up to god knows what, rotating between gesturing the song out and rounding Lyle and Mank's shoulders as they laughed, half belligerent, drinks sloshing onto the concrete ground from battered red plastic cups. Since slipping out the back and avoiding the colonel's eyes hours later, you were just here.

Unmoving as the base winded down further and people prattled around its large expanse. All flitting about with briefcases and files as they rushed past you to their makeshift homes. Tired eyes focusing on the idea of their beds as the day was wasted and the next promised to start just as early. They filled the once cold lifeless gray space with life for a time until the night truly dwindled. The eclipse lit everything a bright purple. Awash in colours of magenta, and violet you just breathed, hands shaking as you inhaled. Your gaze never leaves the wonders beyond the glass surrounding you.

Now you were here and he had finally found you.

���You know why you're so good at your job, Ghost?”

A sigh slipped past your lips. Your shoulders caved in as your eyes slid shut once more at his deep raspy voice. At the use of your moniker, a remembrance of reality. He was your colonel. You were but a soldier. You were no hero, certainly not now.

No woman he had met by chance. Not a friend of his, of anyone, no longer a sister, no longer even your first name.

Just Ghost.

“No. Why, Colonel?”

And he hated how weak your voice was as he brushed calloused fingertips against your hands. So slight you were sure it was an accident. Your gaze shot to his, heart jumping painfully, back straightening as you stiffened. His eyes kept yours as he pried your hands from the rail none so gently, turning the right palm up and sliding something small and cool into your hand before closing your fingers around it, softer than the initial yank from the rail. But only by a fraction. All he could afford you.

Shivers raced up your spine, your chest aching at the touch, lurching with it.

“Wh-”

“It’s because you care. The animals out there don't notice you because they know you care. Like they know you wouldn't hurt them, even when vulnerable and squattin’ in the mud. You just have to remember to care for your kind more, alright?”

Your lip wobbled, voice much too weak to speak as you merely nodded, gaze trailing down again. Heart racing and fear clawing at you as you just stood there, weak and mortified, scared that he knew it all. Had the power to have you called a potential traitor for your empathy.

You wondered if when he said animals he meant the na’vi or the wildlife. You swallowed hard, eyes burning, squeezing shut as if you could wring the horrible thought from your mind, keep your heart from sinking to the depths alongside your stomach. You did not want to ask, for you knew already.

Your eyes tracked your beaten-up converse on your aching feet as you shuffled from your left to right leg, ignoring the prickles that raced up your shins. Caught on the only remnant of your sister left. She died in failed cryo on the way here. The heart drawn in sharpie on your left toe from your last day together. After, you both collapsed in exhaustion from packing your small joint carry-on bag the night before shipping off. It was glaringly bright in the white-tinted light illuminating the large hall now.

Still muted, smudged, and fading, but it made you smile anyways.

They were the first thing you put on each time you got back to base. The first step after a shower.

All of this, you realized you did for her. All of those like her, those left on earth. Trapped there, on a dying planet with no solution, no real plan or power to change it.

You finally braved a look at your palm, seeing a carved metal charm sitting there amongst callouses. It was crudely carved from the material but still startlingly smooth. It was a small ghost resting in your palm. No longer than your finger pad. A small hole was punched near the head with a link there to attach to your dog tags.

You let out a laugh at the sight and Quaritch was sure he had never heard anything so sweet, so close to shattering.

Your hand, gentle but rough like his, brushed against his knuckles. But this was no accident. It could never be construed as such and that was the true danger. You focused on feeling the strength there in those three seconds before your hand fell back against the now icy rail, missing the fleeting warmth he always seemed to radiate.

You just have to remember to love your kind more, alright?

“I do.”

A nod followed your soft words and he saw then just how young you were. With your two braids falling over your shoulders as you rocked back on your heels, forearms poised on the rail as you held the charm gently, close to your hoodie-clad chest, like it might break, like someone might take it from you. He focused on the light highlighting your features, and he felt his breath still for a mere moment. All at that moment it clicked in his head as if it was invisible until now, at this moment.

You were barely past being a teen, having signed on for a suicide mission with a sister who was long dead now, with few other choices six years ago. You were an excellent sniper and a keen strategist. A good follower, who took great orders. Loyal as shit. Throwing yourself in front of many projectiles from day one for strangers, colleagues and your team alike. Hell, you were probably a better soldier than all of them combined.

But you were too young. Painfully young.

Much too sweet to have calluses so deep and eyes so pained and a voice so hollow. Too young to have lost so much.

His gaze fell to your shoes, then back up as you looked back out to the horizon. He just wished you didn't wither away, yet. You were all so close to an answer. He knew it. A solution. Pandora was it. He knew you just needed a reminder and he would give you one, just this once.

You were just a kid.

Yelling never worked with you and he could never bring himself to do it anyways. You were a motivator for everyone, always picking them up with words or hands if they fell, but you were also easily motivated yourself. Easily swayed by a belief that what you were doing was good, or right. So he would give that to you. Because he needed you, he needed this whole team.

And that's all he thought when he had found that metal shard in the yard a month ago, in the vast grasses that tickled his hands as it sat in the very middle of it all. The whole operation and base. And he took it back to his room to carve. Immediately seeing the small timid ghost in the shape. It was barely the size of the pad of his thumb when he was done, whittling it to near nothing, slivers embedded in his palm, his skin. It only took him a night. He worked in between sets of weights and paperwork he barely dared to usually do, fingers always itching to pick up the tools again. Its creation in itself was motivating.

He tried not to think of why he was doing it. Pondered why he couldn't put it down when he started.

Why did he wait so long to give it to you? Why did he dread how you would react? Why was he so sure of how you would?

Just as you were now.

Soft, kind and something else he wished he didn't see. He refused to see as he too looked at the expanse of stars above your eyes, past your stare. He wished he saw what you did there, what you talked of seeing, of feeling. You talked of a vast expanse, a deeply instilled hope, a timid purpose, a reminder that although time was not infinite, life beyond them was, the cycle of everything and anything was so endless and it didn't scare you. It brought you peace as you gazed at the bright twinkling gems cast in the inky dark.

But instead of an expanse, he saw a dome. A prison. And that charm you cradled is just the same. It was just manipulation, a trap to get you to stay.

That’s all it was.

That is all it ever could be.

******

Now you sat there trying desperately to ignore the near euphoric scent of him beside you, and how your ears were twitching towards him whenever he made a slight noise, even if it was just a deeper breath than those previous. You noted all of them and swore you could feel them in your veins.

He smelled like a bonfire, a forest after a harsh rain, coffee, something like his old cologne with tangy twists to it along with gunpowder,  metal. It was perhaps what his soul could be summed up as if he had one. But you were very much sure that he didn't.

But you still managed to focus upfront once more, on Darcy’s grand hand gestures with the clink of her bangles at her thin wrists as she pointed to the moving 3D images of frightening pandora fauna. Her green eyes were bright even in the dimmed light of the command room. The hologram was now focused on a palulukan.

A leathery wolf-like thing that caught your eye. Its teeth were so large and it was around ten feet long in size, taking up the whole room. You felt your tail thwap hard against the ground, curling around your left leg as you jiggled it harshly. Lip caught in between your teeth as you tensed, but no one paid you any mind. All you felt was your heart racing so fast you swore it might break your chest open, might splat on the ground still beating its erratic rhythm. Your fingers tighten on your empty holster as if to reach for a gun to protect yourself against the hologram threat.

“Y’know, they’re not all bad up close.” Quaritch laughed beside you, a low mocking thing that did horrible things to you.

That had your head snapping to his. Jesus, he was beautiful, that's all you could think, the anger giving way to awe as you watched his nose twitch, a look of confusion on his face, but it was gone as soon as you noticed. Like it was never there.

The stripes on his face matched his nature, sharp and melted into his bone structure. Highlighting the high cheekbones and strong jaw. His recom tags twinkled as they dangled with his strong lean forward, forearms resting on his knees. It gave you a horrible sense of deja vu you couldn't quite place. You always shoved memories of your past life away and you knew why you shoved that one out quickly. The tiny ghost charm still around your recovered dog tags felt like a collar then, even if it was tucked into your shirt, away from his view. You swore he knew. Knew he owned you.

“I’m not sure I believe you. I mean this is coming from the man who was once permanently scarred by one.” You said.

A huff.

“Plus I’m not concerned. Nothing on Pandora scares me like that.” You paused, frowning. “Not anymore.”

Not since dying. He knew what you meant.

His face was stern, but playful at the edges. It was evident in his eyes that he didn’t buy it. No muscle shifted in his face or his body, not a single hue of change seen, even of a minuscule sort, and yet you knew he was aware you were full of shit.

His eyes fell to your hands twisting in your t-shirt and you stilled them.

He laughed.

“That’s not what gave you away, Peach.”

And he leaned in, the smell of him was overwhelming, intoxicating, you felt like you were suffocating, fighting the urge to take a deep gasping breath in. He smelled so good, your ears perked up, flattening against your hair, then ruffling up again as his raspy voice whispered in your right ear as it twitched at his warm breath,

“I can hear your heartbeat.”

That only helped to increase its speed, you felt like you would faint, sure you would, but it was the least of your problems as you heard the recoms shuffle and make to move out. The dim lights now burning bright. All grabbing weapons off the table and suiting up. You hop up quickly, eager to get your hands on a gun, to then check and make sure that your bed was expertly made before inspection later, excited to get out and far away from Quaritch, from the itch he left under your skin. But the firm yank to your tank top collar had you gasping and collapsing back into his chest, your nose filled with his rich scent. You could feel his strong arms around you, one at his side, flush with your body, the other at the nape of your neck like you were a rogue kitten. You could feel his breath, your body moving, arching as his chest expanded with his inhales, could feel the cold metal of his belt buckle against your tailbone, digging into the soft skin there deliciously. Heart still racing.

“Where you goin’ Rookie? Chopper’ is that way.” His eyes met yours over his shoulder, your breath stalling as you felt his eyes wander like a physical touch branding you, brushing against the hemline of your top, your heaving chest. He grunted, making an exaggerated gesture to the right side, in the direction of the hangar.

“Right, I- I just forgot something.”

He snorted. “Well tough, we gotta head out. ” And that was that.

You heard Lyle laughing at your expense, pointing at your flicking tail which you grabbed from behind you in fury at the blasted thing. It was giving away way too much to devious people around you.

The Colonel just charged ahead of you all, shoulders squared and ears flicking in irritation. He looked so mad and you had no idea why. Well, hopefully, he’ll let you off easy later at the sight of your messy sheets.

Hopefully, that scary palulukan bastard won't kill you… Hopefully, it will all go fine.  

********

And it was all going fine until you spotted a viper wolf from the corner of your eye. You were a mile into the journey since drop off, muscles tight and burning from hacking at plants and hiding from leering beasts. The animals still attacked people they recognized as na’vi, just not as much as an avatar driver or god forbid, a human would. None of you were as accurately attuned to silent threats as the people of Pandora were. The recom bodies were new and native in theory to this planet, but you did not grow up as they did, hell you all grew up in a tank technically.

It had been stalking you all for a long time you gathered, it had to have been, what with the way it effectively cornered you as you all were nearing a ditch drop-off along with the certain confidence to the wind up of his body. So when it finally dashed with a horrible high-pitched laughing sound everyone turned to it, but it was already in the air.

Your hand grabbed your knife from your sheath with ease, throwing yourself in front of Quaritch and swinging your arm up with a cry. The thing launched itself with so much force that it bent nearly into a c shape as your hand slammed into its abdomen, sickly thin ribs curving over your hand, teeth snapping at your face as you swung it around, twisting the knife deep, teeth gritted in a yell, neck leaned back to avoid its teeth. Blood soaked your hands as jaws snapped at you, continuing their attempt at your face. You didn’t realize you were near the edge until it was too late. A strong kick of hind legs to your ribs shoved you off the grassy hill. Your grip slipped from the knife, and the creature it was buried inside as you went down screaming, tumbling down a rock covered slope. Wind and grass whipped past you, rocks crushing bone as you rolled, limbs flailing as you fell from various heights in between harsh slopes of land. Arms tucked around your head near the end. Muffled gasps and breaths wrenched from your lungs, various hard things crushed in your chest, and mud slid into your eye, leaving you with no sight on your left side, and with no air.

You couldn't breathe. You couldn't see.

All throughout you heard constant shouts of your name, “Ghost!” and whether it was a minute or truly an eon, you finally stopped moving, collapsing on your back, wedged under a sharp rock and something delightfully soft in contrast. Your head pounded like your heart was there.

The world was truly spinning, your stomach turning violently. The taste of metal and grass in your mouth. Splinters of sunlight fractured your vision as you pried your eyes open, looking up the long hill to the sea of blurred faces. With a groan you assessed the damage quickly, and stood shakily, trudging over with only a slight limp to the clearing next to you so they could see you were alright. But with blood running down your forehead, arms swinging around for purchase as your knees buckled, you can imagine it was not exactly affirming.

“I’m okay. Is the thing dead? Are you all alright?” You asked, voice shaky.

The clinks of rocks and mud had your heart jumping as you moved back, falling on your hands and knees, moving backwards like a crab then standing again when sense came back to you.

Someone, no idea who, was making their way down the hill, at the very loud and very kind protest of your teammates.

You found your voice as your head swam with worry, your vision still too blurry to make anyone out. You didn't want them to get hurt. “No, no it's okay. I'll find my way up. Is it dead?” You called, wondering if you had asked that already, but truly unable to remember.

Your head was severely pounding. And perhaps you were fine until a wave of dizziness blacked out your vision, and your legs gave out from underneath you. Pain ripped up your tailbone to every single cell of your spine. You felt like you might throw up as you yelped. But after wincing, and back bowing in, eyes squeezing firmly shut, your gaze met a lovely red flower beside you. With a deep blue and orange center. With oval-like petals the size of your actual face. It was ripped in half savagely and you felt the ground around you in a panic, calloused fingertips meeting soft petals wedged under your ass.

Oh no.  “Shit, I’m sorry.” You whined.

A laugh. You had no idea where it came from. “What is she apologizing to? A plant?” You paid them no mind, tears welling in your eyes at your destruction of the life here. It felt like you were still the same. You huffed, gazing at the horrible tear in its side. It was nearly as tall as your waist and it looked heavy, naturally leaning against a mossy tree. A thick white substance was flowing from the flower's core. It was bleeding.

“Oh my god, I'm so sorry.”

Combat training takes place before logic it seemed, as your shaking hands dipped into the flower, pressing against the center as if trying to stave it from bleeding out. But as you did so a burst of yellow dust slammed into your face. You choked, stupidly taking a deep breath in through your nose as you slid your mouth firmly shut, feeling a burn in your lungs, an itch in your nostrils. You sneezed, some of the powder falling out, dusting off of you. The flower’s essence was now burning on your hands and Darcy’s warnings kicked in much too late. You rubbed them against your rough pants, with the feverish feeling sinking in. They were no longer wet like though, almost like you had absorbed the thing.

Tingles raced up your arms as you winced, moving away quickly, truly just staggering around. Wiping your hands on the ground quickly again. But as soon as you stood on your feet your vision cleared, and everything became so much brighter.

Woah.

All of your pains faded away, almost healed. You felt great honestly. Nothing felt tilted or like a scene with a film filter on now. You felt alive, it was the only word for it. And so when Quaricth made it to the bottom finally, an almost scared expression on his face, eyebrows once furrowed in worry, scrunched in confusion. Lending to genuine shock as he watched the gash on your forehead heal itself, sealing with a pink glow, leaving your blue skin perfectly untouched.

His mouth went dry, gaze straying to the plant beside you. It looked quite familiar. Then back.

“You okay, Cupcake?” You throbbed at the nickname, deep in between your thighs, so sharp you almost fully folded over. What was that? You cleared your throat, feeling the tingles from your hands race up your windpipe as if you had just drank something fizzy, coaxing your words to slow, the octave going just slightly deeper. It didn't go away, the feeling flowing up your arms and wrapping around your waist like an embrace. Oh god. “Yeah, Let’s go.” He handed you your knife, neatly cleaned on his shirt and you stashed it back at the garter on your thigh with a wink.

He felt his steps still as you moved around him, grabbing at the rope Mansk threw down as you started to climb. You looked utterly fine, but he knew you weren't. It wasn't because he watched a gash heal itself on your skin, but instead for the fact that you had winked at him. You would never have dared.

His ears twitched, his tail flicking leaves harshly before he reined himself in again, determined to keep a firm eye on you.

*******

You knew something was wrong. Knew as soon as you touched that fucking plant. As soon as your vision cleared you knew what it was, what you had just properly and thoroughly infected yourself with. The so-called “dirty dragon”. You wish you had paid more attention, wished you didn't roll down a hill and hit your head making you delirious. Wished you were not stupid enough to try to save a goddamn plant as Lyle suspected. But here you were.

Maybe there was a cure.

Maybe you could make it back in time before it kicked in. You would never tell Darcy, she wouldn't help you anyway, but the chances of no one else noticing seemed slim. You stayed at the back of the pack, covering their backs as Quaritch led them once again. His search of the forest in front of him interspersed with glances over at you that you never failed to notice.

The recoms were just as distracting, but in an irritating way. You could smell all of them, all of their signature scents like they were pressed against you, nuzzling your face. It made your head hurt. You chose to focus on the best scent, his. It was intermingled with all of the other recoms, but it was the strongest, the best.

Your heart raced as you took deep breaths in, feeling the tingles spread from your lungs to your breasts with the action. Your gun kept slipping from your grip from sweat, it clung to your skin like a film, the relative cool of the morning in Pandora wrenched from you as heat wave after heat wave hit you. Sweat sliding down your forehead and teasing your parted lips. The rub of your thighs together as you moved in a low crouch was so intoxicating. A zing of electricity flowed up your body each time the seam of your camo pants met your center.

You were wet, so wet you could feel it. It felt like a period at first and you had panicked a little before realizing na’vi women did not get those, they reabsorbed the uterine lining as all animals should. It felt almost like a weight in between your thighs, as you noticed your arms shaking beside your head all whilst you kept the gun raised. On guard still even when you felt dizzy and faint. Hot and cold. Core aching desperately.

Quaritch raised a clenched fist and you all paused immediately as if in sync. His glance over a broad, muscled shoulder was quick, “Take the gear up three clicks and wait for Ghost and I there. Make camp.” Your core pulsed at his mere voice, an urge to be closer to him undeniable as you were still at the back of the group. Confusion marring their faces. He had an order against night ops, or at least he had as a human.

“What? Stay the night here? Are you crazy?”

It was Lopez, never shy to disagree with the Colonel's orders. But the look he gave him shut his mouth up real tight, sealing his attitude off.

“Nevermind. Let’s go. Move out.” Lopez grunted, picking up Colonel's dropped pack too before leaving. Struggling with the weight Quaritch didn't even bat an eye at.

Quaritch looked so good, hand loosely poised over his comm collar, the other resting on his cocked hip, braid swinging behind him with the motion. He looked delicious and you ached at the sight of him.

“General Ardmore, we're making camp. We’ll be back at 0600 sharp the next morning.” It was not a negotiation. You would have laughed at his gall, but it was no surprise to you and the snappy talk made you bite your lip, focusing on the deep timbre of his voice, basking in the sound.

You only snapped back to reality when you noticed the silence. Your group now a blurred mess in between faraway leaves, too far away, much farther than you remember them being. The colonel's words came back to you.

Take the gear, wait for me and Ghost there.

Leave us alone basically.

Oh god.

“Looks like you got yourself into some deep shit huh, Cupcake?” You sniffed, wiping at the sweat on your hairline frantically. “I don't know what you mean, sir. What did I do?” You squinted up at him, light spilling through long leaves to illuminate his figure, his eyes burning a bright gold in its rays.

You tasted your sweat as you took deep breaths, fists clenching as you felt your nipples rub against your bra with the move, thighs clenching slightly.

“I can hear your heartbeat, remember?”

Your face blanched, going still, eyes wide as he grabbed the strap of his vest, leaning into a hip, his lowered eyes travelling down your shaking figure.  

“What plant did you fall into exactly?” He asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. He sounded smug. The bastard.

Shaking your head, you moved around him quickly, the movement matched the slight wind, bringing his scent over you in a rush. It was so sudden-so strong and good that you gasped loud and harsh. Your pupils were blown as they stared ahead at the foliage, praying something would come out of it and eat you. End your misery as you feel your cheeks burn. Jaw clenched.

You ignored every tingle and jolt as you trudged on, hearing him fall in step behind you.

“Ghost, just tell me what it is. One of the scientist freaks can help.” You scoffed, turning back sharply, almost colliding with his broad chest, your own heaving, each breath harder to grasp. You hated this, every single part of it. Hating how every part of you wanted to be plastered to him, wanted to feel all of him. How hard you had to fight it.

“No. They couldn’t. They wouldn't.” You cry, gaze, meeting the ground in shame.

“What do you mean? They have cures to nearly every poison on this dam’ planet by now.” He moved forward as he spoke, cautious like you were a wounded animal. You bit hard enough on your bottom lip to split it, tasting metal once again as you smoothed sweaty palms down your thighs, tensing as shivers racked your body with the action. He moved even closer and you backed up five quick steps, they could nearly be counted as hops, your eyes wide with alarm.

He did not understand the danger he was in. How badly you wanted him. What you would do to have him and if he kept trying to come into your space you were not entirely sure he wouldn't find out.

“It's not a poison, Quaritch.”

A breath of silence stretched between you, both of you instead focusing on the chirps and caws of Pandora wildlife around you. And that's when he noticed it. The shaking of your hands, your voice, the blown-out pupils eating away at the gold of your eyes. The sweat. The wink. It’s not poison. What else could it have been? A healing plant was unlikely to cause these side effects. What else did Darcy-

Oh.

Oh.

“Take care of it.”

You scoff, cheeks burning, tail whipping behind you sharply.

“Excuse me?” It was shrill, the embarrassment rationing off your shy side to near nothing.

He gestured to the base of a large and thick tree trunk. Made a show of turning around, arms out wide, walking twenty paces out and stilling, gun at his side. Guarding you. He couldn't be serious. He couldn't. But the thought of actually doing it, sinking into the bark, tearing off your belt and slipping your hands under your pants, feeling along your cunt all whilst he listened, watched out for you? It was insane, and you refused to give in, but despite that thought your body moved for you. Your hands were moving and your knees locking before you fell to the grassy heap at the base of the tree.

******

Quaritch was sure he would pass out any minute now. He was tense, still, waiting, a part of him hoping you’d refuse, another knowing you would not be able to.

He could smell you for miles since the fall and the collision with that damn plant. He had been hard for hours, only taking point so no one else would see it. But you never noticed, you never did.

He wasn’t looking forward to the hell General Ardmore would put him through when he got back, but he knew you would not have made it back in time. He may have been distracted during the safety presentation by your scent, your warmth, and the touch of your soft thigh through his cargo pants but he paid attention, and it paid to do so. So he knew the shit you were in and it was deep. This was meant to be agony. He just knew- His ears swivel at the clink of your belt, followed by a rush of soft breaths.

Rustling has his tail twitching up, flicking side to side, nearly hitting his bent arm on the downswing. But it goes silent again and he can't help it. “You okay, Peach?”

Your moan is loud and he chokes, nearly falling over, fighting the urge to look, already perfectly picturing what he would find. He could hear you. How slick you were, he could smell it, his mouth watering, heat pooling in his stomach, fists clenching.

“God please keep doing that, Quaritch.” You gasped. His dick twitched. He stops, stomach flipping. “Doing what?” He drawled, bringing the last syllable on a walk, loving the squeak you made in its favour. His voice came out deeper, more rasped than he would have liked but he just  swallowed, hard. Fighting to not look over, slightly failing and getting a sliver of blurred blue in his peripheral vision, a glance at scattered clothes nearest to him.

“Talking.”

God. Someone save him.

It was wrong, all so wrong and yet he would do whatever you wished at that moment. He would say anything you wanted.

“What do you want to hear?”

A slick sound and another gasp and he swore he cracked a tooth with how hard he clenched his jaw. “Anything. Just need your voice. I love your voice. Fuck!” And he groaned, ears twitching against his head, eyes squeezed shut as he fought the urge.

He wouldn't do this, he wouldn't. It wasn't right, but still, he talked.

“I can smell your cunt.”

A moan.

“I could smell it for fucking miles ever since you ran into that fuckin’ plant. Could smell you. Could hear your heartbeat…both of them.”

He couldn't breathe because every time he did, he smelt you, he breathed you in and he was one step closer to losing it. To breaking.

“Never wanted to fuck something so bad in my life. Wanted to pin you up against a tree, rip all the damn' clothes off of ya’ until you admitted what you need.” He could hear your heightened breaths. “Please, I'm so close.” But he stopped, shaking his head.

“What-why?” you called, voice vulnerable. It was a whine and he was delighted. This was power and he knew how to wield it. You always wasted yours.

You could have had him back there at the bottom of the hill if you asked, in front of his whole damn team if you wished. Hell if you jumped him he would have gone for it, no questions asked. You could have had him at fifty one when you wanted him. He would’ve fucking taken you. It would have been wrong, but he would not have cared. But you never did try, never even got close when you could have. You never did the wrong thing, the thing you wanted. Needed.

But he was not you.

“I'll keep talkin’ till you cum all over those pretty fingers enough to be cured Cupcake, even if it takes till fuckin’ sunrise. But only if you let me watch.” His voice came out as a drawl, southern accent sticking to every syllable. His ears twitch to better hear you reply. It was immediate.

“Turn around.”

And he does, slow and sure like.  It takes everything in him to do it that way. To not seem too eager, like he hadn't been thirsting for your pussy since you were first placed on his team, when you were barely more than a teen. You were barely twenty and he was starting fifty, and yet he had wanted you. Human or not, Miles Quaritch wanted to fuck you and he was convinced that would never go away. You were not simply something he could get out of his system, but he would try.

Good God.

His heart stopped as his gaze met yours. Your eyes half-lidded, wobbly knees pulled apart, showcasing your drenched fucking cunt. You were wearing nothing but your dog tags. He found himself walking towards you, focused on the many strands of hair that fell from your braid, plastering themselves to your body, your neck, and your arms. Your face lovely and flushed, lips parted and swollen, but not as much as they ought to be. He drops to his knees in front of you, uncaring for the gun he throws in the grass somewhere around behind him, gaze never leaving you. Your heaving chest, your heavy breasts, your full blue curves in the sunlight.

“Talk.”

It was a demand and he could meet it.

“Yeah, whatever you want, baby. I’ll do anything you want.” He was stomach to the ground, palms gripping at the earth beside him as if for solace as he took a deep breath in and held it. His eyes flashed open as he watched your small lean fingers messily draw circles on your clit, hips jerking up, chest heaving. It wasn’t enough and the scrunch between your brows was from pain, not pleasure. He was breaking as your eyes met his. It was not the first time you looked at him like that, with enough lust to make his stomach flip, but it was certainly the first time he had ever been able to do something about it.

Jesus, he needed you.

“Use me, baby, please. I can give you what you need, y’know I can. I’ll fill you up, fuck that pollen right out of you if you want me.” A shocked sound came from you as if personally offended, hands falling off your body. You stood on wobbly knees and he joined you, cock aching as he stared down at your small flushed frame. You were beautiful like this. Perfect.

He was giving the power to you. Addressing the imbalance. You could refuse him, you could shove him away and he would willingly go, but he knew you wouldn't.

“ I want you. I a- I want you. Please.” It was a rasp, your voice near gone, throat parched. And your hands, hot as the sun gripped his tank top in fistfuls under his vest. He could feel your touch even above the cloth. At first he thought you were pulling him in until you whined when he tried to close the space. Hand smoothing up his shoulders. “Want this off?” He asked, hands on his vest. You only nodded and he unclipped it, not needing to be told twice, dropping it slowly to the tree beside him, your hand now laid on his bare shoulder.

“More.” Another demand.

He barely refrained from ripping the thing off. Settling for grabbing fistfuls on the back of his shoulders and pulling it up and over his head. Before he even tossed the shirt to the ground you were kneeling, thumbs dipping to rest on his hip bones. Your nose sliding up the line of his abs, inhaling deeply. He gasped, hand finding your hair, feeling the sweat there as you licked and kissed up his stomach.

One of his hands falling to the tree to keep his knees from fuckin’ giving out. You devour every inch of skin he showed. It was perhaps the first time he ever felt worshipped, with hands the heat of the sun gripping at his lithe waist, pulling and tugging him how you wanted, as you kissed, licked and bit at him, taking your pleasure with his. Your face rubbed along his hard-on through his pants nearly every third time you kissed his abdomen or sucked on a spot of his waist.

Butterflies. He got fucking butterflies like a teenage girl when you met his eyes, smiling before pressing the softest touch he had ever experienced in both lives, above his belly button.

That was it. “Oh, fuck it.” He rasped, pulling you up by the hands still on his waist, smoothing them up to rest around his neck, soothing your confusion with shushes as his hands tucked under your thighs, yanking you up as you yelped, a giggle falling from your lips. But you were not deterred, lips attacking his neck on the left side, under his jaw right by his chin and ear, and he nearly collapsed at the feeling, the pleasure that shot deep through his veins. With a deep breath his forehead met the tree. Fucking damn it, you would be the death of him. He overestimated how much strength he needed to carry you, to fuck you standing and you landed on his big blue chest, center landing on his sternum as gravity slowly pulled you down, the ridges of his abs rubbing into your puffy clit.

*******

You threw your head back at the feeling. Your thighs squeezed his sides as you slid down to rest on his hips. His head tilted back too then, a small huff leaving his nose as he went to gaze at the sky, as if to ask for mercy. You licked a hot line up his throat, sucking hard and he moaned, vision breaking to land back on you. Furious, he looked furious and it made another honest to god giggle leave your lips. The sound made your stomach flip, your core aching as you ground your hips into him hard. But with your look at the blue sky next when he dove to kiss your neck, reality cut through the pollen-induced haze.

You were taking advantage of the situation. He was only doing this to help you, a member of his team, that was all.

“Wait, wait,” you called, breathless and panting and he did, pulling back immediately, alarm on his face. A question in his lust-blown eyes, the golden green hue nearly swallowed by the dark pupil.

“You don’t have to do this. I don’t want to infect you” You said, tears in your voice. He tensed, hands readjusting you as he aimed to meet your eyes. He hadn’t even considered you infecting him, he knew you couldn’t. But you looked so sad. Then he got it. You had to be kidding. You thought-. Fingers firm but gentle on your chin made your gaze match his. He looked down, heart nearly stopping as he saw the ghost charm glint in the sun, newly attached to your dog tags.

A gasp left him. His gaze matching yours, now electric. He would devour you. “I’d fuck you whether or not I’m high on some plant, Peach. I’ve wanted to fuck you for ages.” It came out as a purr against your cheek as he leaned in, finally admitting it.

And you know he means it. You see it in his eyes, and you swear it’s enough to do you in.

You laugh, a truly mean-sounding thing. A smirk slides onto your face. His face tucked into your neck, kissing along your pulse point until you whined, hips jerking. He could feel your wetness on his fingers, sliding down your thighs, the hard pebbles of your nipples and your heartbeat roaring against his chest in tandem. Your short breaths caught against his ear as he ground into you. You sounded nothing short of heavenly, heat curling in his abdomen, an ache forming in his chest and navel, electricity smoothing up his arms at your feverish touch.

But he felt you pulling away. He took a long time to pull away from you, even longer to open his eyes. “What, what’s wrong?” His voice was nearly gone, cracking at the seams, it was all pure ecstasy.

Another laugh met his ears as your shaky legs met the ground. You turned so your back was to him. A flush of heat slammed into him as he took the view in. He marvelled at the slope of your spine, the dips at your blue hips, the stripes on your skin, the glowing dots across your shoulder blades. You place your palms on the tree, feet spread just slightly apart and then you lean back, putting just about everything on display.

“Nothing’s wrong. I just want you to fuck me from behind.”

And his hands are on your hips before you even truly finish your sentence. You hear the clink of his belt, hear it slide out of the loops, falling to the grass carelessly behind you.

“Can you do that?” You ask, hips swerving. It was a taunt. He wanted you, he could come get you.

Your back arched, pussy aching, truly dripping, heat plastered to your sweaty skin. You were fearless then, for the first time in your life. It came from being truly wanted, even if for a brief moment. A brief dalliance would be all this ever was anyways.

A quick yank to your braid as he wrapped it around his fist had you gasping, pleasurable pain ricocheting up your spine, your ass rubbing against his crotch as he pressed into you, the tree bark just barely brushing your nipples and you nearly screamed. It was too much.

“I can and will fuck you anyway you want. I’d fuck you standing.” He nuzzled into the nape of your neck, his tongue sliding along your tendon, the cool wind latching onto the saliva and making you shiver so hard you squeezed your eyes shut, knees locking, bark digging into your skin. He chuckled, “I’m gonna be buried so deep inside this cunt you'll never be able to forget it.” His filthy words were accompanied by one strong palm smoothing over your left hip, pressing against your abdomen, ghosting your navel. “You’re gonna feel me here.” You whined. Clenching around nothing.

It was painful. The plant coming in full force, demanding to be bred and fucked. Waves of pain spread the feeling of knives along your skin and he seemed to notice the switch from pleasure to pain again. His mask dropped. He didn’t ask what you needed, he already knew. Fingers slipped down to your cunt, and he swore, his hand slipping almost past it with how slick you were as if moving through water.

“Fuck, you're so wet.” One hand gripped at your breast, acting as an anchor to his chest, to ensure you stayed steady, ready for him as he thrust three fingers inside you. He swore as he felt your tight, slick heat.

A gasp and a moan met his ears as your back arched, ass pressing into him,  one hand gripped at his wrist, begging for what you were not sure about- but he did. His fingers were so thick, so good and you couldn't even think as he pressed three inside you all at once with a deep groan, slowly pumping them in and out, the sound of it almost comically loud as he focused on pressing up at just the right angle and depth to have you screaming, clenching around him so perfectly. 

Fuck, you were going to absolutely milk his cock.  

You fell forward, pleasure rushing over you like waves. You grasped at the tree desperately, knees going weak. “Please,” you moaned as his thumb slipped over to rub small tight circles around your clit. You went higher and higher, breaths lasting mere seconds as you gasped, voice high as you moaned. It was so fucking good, your tip toes pressing into the ground as you leaned up into his touch, hips grinding on his huge fucking hand.  His thrusts turned faster, harder, hitting the perfect spot. A sharp press of his fangs to the back of your neck, the broad base of his chest against you, pressing your nipples just slightly against the rough bark and you shattered.

He had to hold you up as he kept pumping his fingers, barely able to move them as your orgasm took over, clenching around him in waves as he continued to fuck you. It was a momentary reprieve. He could tell that was not enough because your breaths just picked up speed again and you arched your back further. “Inside, please. I just need you. I’m ready.” He wasn't sure if that was true, but he also couldn't imagine you could be more prepared. He pulled his fingers out of you, watching your essence fall to the forest ground.

He gripped your jaw, pressing you hard against the tree, your wide eyes meeting his, cheeks flushed purple, drool spilling from your lips. He nearly came at the sight. Quaritch pulled you back against him hard and you gasped, limp in his arms. Brought his arms in front of you, his right hand covered in your slick, his pointer finger trailing your lower lip and your tongue snuck out to taste. But his hand was gone, pulled away with a click of his tongue, head shaking down at you. “You’re so messy. Look at you, such a slut.” He spat the words out and you ached. He heard your heart beat jump and he laughed, bringing his hand to his mouth instead, tongue swirling around his fingers.

Eyes closed, he moaned at the taste. He was starving for it. You tasted so sweet. Truly like a peach. He licked every bit of it off of him as you whimpered at the sight. You tasted like heaven. He needed more, but he knew that wouldn't satisfy what the pollen induced lust was craving, so he shoved you forward again, your shoulder meeting the tree with a wince, pleasure shooting down to your cunt at the roughness.

“Finally fuck me.” You pleaded, ass wiggling back, voice edged in anger, frustration. And he broke. He yanked the rest of his clothes off faster than what should have been possible, bare feet bracing inside of yours as he rubbed himself along your pussy. You were plenty wet and smiled at the feeling. He had been fully hard since he turned around and saw you, since then just pulsing, feeling as his pants tried to stretch to accommodate him.

It was a mild relief. He could give you more of it.

He tapped his head against your clit just to hear you hiss, see hints of your fangs. Moving down he lead himself to your cunt. The slide inside you was immediate, and he swore, tensing every muscle in his body in an effort not to cum immediately. “Oh fuck, Peach.” He tried to think of something else, something other than your perfect fucking pussy clenching around him, tugging him in further like he was meant to fit there inside you near to the hilt forever. You felt like warm silk and he could feel himself get close, all as your hips moved back and forth, still struggling to take him all in. “Don’t.” he rasped.

You stilled, smile falling as you peered back at him, worried he changed his mind, worried you would never get the release you needed for the pollen to leave you.

“If you move, I'll cum.”

But that did not deter you. Actually, it seemed to make you move faster. You pulled off him, nearly hugging the tree until just the sensitive tip of his cock was inside you before sliding all the way back with a roll of your hips that had his hands seizing, his abdomen lurching in pure pleasure. “Fuck sake, stay still, girl.” You clenched around him at the nickname and he chuckled. He saw how it was. Two could play this game. If he would come quick, he would make sure you did it first, as many times as he could wrench from you. And his words always seemed to do the trick.

“Should have known you were a fuckin’ freak. The way you looked at me back then was absolutely filthy, baby. You wanted me even when I was fifty, isn't that right?” The southern drawl sounded so mocking as he thrust into you. It wasn't really a question, but he stilled, waiting for your answer.

“Yes!” You yelled, shame burned your cheeks as he slid his own against yours, leaning forward over you making you moan. He was so nice and deep.  You could feel his smirk. But you were rewarded for honesty.

He thrust into you so hard you saw stars before falling into a nice rhythm. Staying slow and hard with his thrusts as he spoke, his sweaty chest plastered to your back as his balls slapped against your clit. In between grunts and gasps, he spoke near your ear, but it was nowhere near a whisper. There was a bigger thrill because he was so loud. Anyone could hear, anyone could see. “Y’would’ve let me use that perfect young cunt any time I wanted, huh? Let me bend you over my desk right before a meeting, fuck you full. Have you leave with my cum’ still drippin’ down all over your pretty legs.” His words and a fast circle to your clit have you cumming again, this time around his cock. 

He swore, veins in his neck popping as you bared down on him, squeezing him for all he was worth. His own high closing in as he thrusted harder, slamming deep inside you, brushing something you didn’t even know existed. A gasp falling from your lips, eyes rolling back. He pushed a large hand into the divot of your back to force a deeper arch, your head falling forward as you braced for him. And he fucked into you hard and fast through your orgasm and past that, when you were so sensitive you barely realized that the heat was almost gone, the excess of sweat slowed to nearly nothing but from the exertion Quaritch was putting you through.

“Where do you- damn, “ a huff against your back, “I’m gonna cum, fuck-, where do you want me?” His hips moved as if to pull out of you as he asked, but you let go of the tree with one hand, grabbing the back of his thick thigh, getting half a handful of his ass, pushing him closer to you as you rock back on his cock, rolling your hips, making an effort to grind against his pelvis with fervor. 

Head tilted up, fucking begging internally for him to grab your throat, to lean down and kiss you, but you knew he wouldn’t. 

Not on the lips. He would never.  

“Inside Miles, cum inside me.” And it was you saying those words, your sweet voice breathy and the feel of you around him that did him in. Warmth flooded your core as he fucked up into you, in three hard slow thrusts, the sofest sounds you have ever heard from him escaping his lips as his head fell against your shoulder, shaking against your back, his ragged breaths making your hair stand up as you shivered, grinding back into him in slow circles. And he winced, making a noise that could almost be construed as whining if you were listening.

He was all over you, his scent flooding you, his seed inside you, spilling around his cock and down your legs. His sounds were so sensually sweet and it made your heart ache. He was yours. You would make sure of it. And you felt the heat rise in your body again, undeniable and painful.

When he pulled out, you turned, and in the last burst of a pollen-induced haze you grabbed the back of his neck, bringing his neck to your mouth, your fangs immediately piercing into his skin, tasting blood, marking him. He grunted in surprise, wincing as his arms grabbed your elbows, not pulling you away but holding you all the same. It was a primal thing, an urge you weren't even sure you could have, until you fulfilled it. You nuzzled into the crook of his neck, lapping at the blood, delighting in the absolute pained sign-turned-moan that left his open mouth as you sucked at his blood, tearing slightly into his skin to affirm your mark.

A sudden shot of cum shot out across your abdomen as he wrapped your legs around him, his arms firmly around your back. Promptly falling on his ass with the force of his orgasm, moaning as his hips bucked into the air, chasing something that already passed.

You had done that.

The feeling of your fangs piercing his neck, marking him as yours had brought another orgasm right beside his last. Not even a minute later. That would not have been possible for any being other than a na’vi, and at this moment you were grateful for it. His strong arms held you tightly against him, your rapid deep breaths matching his, your ear plastered to his slick chest, the uneven rush of his heartbeat having your lips curl up. You looked up to see his eyes closed, squeezed shut as if in pain, rough hands slowly rubbing circles into your back, tracing the points of bioluminescence there, dewy grass tickling your knees on either side of his hips.

You felt the ache from the rough sex before the soreness in your muscles came over you. A side effect of the way he manhandled you or from the pollen you were not sure. You can't believe you just did that. You were in such shit. But it was not over yet. Both of you refuse to get up, to leave this haven and return to the realm where this is forbidden.

Your palm smoothed up his pec and farther to his neck, landing on the fresh blood there. You looked up, moving slightly off him, taking his jaw gently in your hands. His eyes looked calmer now, but his pupils were still very large as he watched you, breathing hard through his open mouth. You felt his breaths under your left hand on his chest, rising up and down with its force, gazing at his muscled figure, taking in every inch shamelessly. And he looked back at you tentatively, but not guarded.

Trusting.

Your other hand tilted his jaw to one side as you leaned against him, sweaty chests meeting as you felt his breath hitching. You placed a kiss on the bite mark and he flinched.

“I’m so sorry.” You said, voice tired but sincere. He just squeezed your hip, unable to talk. Not now, not like this. He was too vulnerable.

Your pointer finger found the spot you were looking for. The small freckle on his neck to the left side, on the edge of his adam’s apple. Dipping further down, strands of your hair tickling his chest you ever so softly kissed his beauty mark. A whisper of a touch. A loving touch.

Quaritch breathed sharply through his clenched teeth, like he was in pain and your eyes watered.

“Thank you.” You whispered, pulling away, hands sliding down his chest to his abdomen where your hips sat. It was such a soft gesture, your lashes fluttering as you met his eyes once more. 

It was too much.

“No problem, Ghost.”

You tensed above him, but forced yourself to relax again. Your throat burned with the tears as you pushed up off of him. Still slow and cautious. You didn't want to give too much away. Not anymore.

That use of your alias was deliberate. It was a placement of the iron wall between you once more and although you knew it was coming, expected it even, it still felt like your heart was collapsing, wildly jumping all around your body as pain laced through your every shaky breath. Your jaw clenched tight, leaving him in a pile on the grass. It was hard to angrily walk away after taking a pounding like that, if anything you angrily wobbled away, but still, it was done. You wiped the cum off your body with leaves, and roughly stepped into your clothes. Your braid was undone, brushed with your fingers and redone. No need to keep it down.

You were sure he didn't leave any marks on you anyway. Harshly, you looked back, stopping mid-tie of your combat boot to see him. He was refastening his belt silently, nearly a half yard away and you just stared at his chest, his arms, catching on his tattoo on the left bicep. You never got to kiss it, and that thought nearly killed you. The yearning was a stabbing pain in your chest. It felt like being torn apart.

You noticed the marks, he had plenty to pass him by and you felt almost guilty, at least a little.

How would he explain it all?

But another part of you, the part of you that felt compelled to bite him in the first place grinned, smirking like a Cheshire cat with all the milk in the world at her disposal. It was like you had written ‘mine, mine, mine,’ all over him in the red and blue-black bruises scattered along his abdomen, along his v line dipping into his pants. The scratches on his left thigh, and of course the fucking bite mark on his neck, carved into the perfect blue canvas there from your fangs.

But if he minded it, he didn’t say a thing.

He could heal it at base camp easily with a nice blue gel, with no scars involved. You knew he would, but wished he wouldn't.

He didn't even acknowledge it as he walked into the set-up camp an hour later with you in tow. Did not even make to explain both of your absences. He wouldn’t. He didn’t need to. They knew.

You looked more put together than the Colonel, and that was the most obvious tell of what had happened. No one was more put together than him. It was like the man was born a military man, created from strict order and perfection.

Besides that there was the fact that you reeked of each other. No one could tell which scent was who’s, or even tell who you were by scent alone anymore. Then if they somehow missed that, the ripped shirt sleeve on your left side and the missed belt loop on Quaritch’s right hip was a good clue. Along with the uneven gait from you as you walked up the hill beside him to meet them, gun slung over your shoulder.

But the best clue- the one that did them all in, it had to be the fucking bite mark.

No, the declaration of property,

plastered on the left side of their colonel’s neck.

******

bonus:

It was five hours since they landed back at base and all the recoms were playing cards in the deserted cafeteria, all eerily silent. 

Lyle could feel the tension in the air ever since you and Quaritch separated like the sea when Bridgehead came into view. You go to the showers probably and Quaritch heads off to explain himself to general Ardmore, looking only slightly more presentable than yesterday.

They all wordlessly looked at each other before Lopez spoke up, the sound of the helicopter still ringing in their sensitive ears.

“So… cards, anyone?” Lopez asked. Everyone immediately agreed, a series of frantic nods and a chorus of affirmation as they all moved to the cafeteria.

They didn’t even bother changing, showering, eating, just walked to the cafeteria jostling each other, sharing tidbits from the mission in small laughs, but they never dared to speak about you. Or at least not what they were all actually thinking about in terms of you.

��Did you see the way she jumped in front of Quaritch with the-“

“-yeah. Just like old times. Stepping in front of shit, for that old goat.” Prager laughed, shaking his head roughly, disbelieving. He never understood that. He never would.

“The way the fucking thing kicked her off a cliff and she like got up, like she was fine??” Lyle exclaimed with a scoff, hands motioning in front of him wildly.

“Yeah that’s Ghost, alright.” She huffed a small laugh. “Y’know, i’ve never seen the Colonel throw himself in danger for anyone. But he cleared that fucking hill immediately after she fell.” Z-dog sounded almost awed as she finished speaking, still chewing her gum that had long since gone flavourless.

They all nodded, silence falling again. Mansk pulled a very serious face as if he was thinking hard enough to hurt before he spoke.  “It’s because he never has.”

They all turned to look at him, stilling as memories washed over them. It was always Colonel and Ghost. Always. The clatter of the dining hall got so loud as they were awash in melancholy. He was right.

They took off their gear and rounded the benches, the cards came out and it was dead quiet once again, but the tension was thick. Hard to breathe. The only sound was cards shuffling, the rhythmic pop of Z-dogs gum, and Prager’s huffs whenever he lost (which was always). It was enough for Lyle to finally break after two rounds. “So we all agreed they fucked each other, right?” His voice not even close to a whisper.

“YES!” The group yelled, in unison again. 

Relief went through them so fast, like a huge wave that crashed over and through them, their tired shoulders hunching forward like a weight fell off of them. And excitement rushed in to take the tension’s place.

“I knew it!-”

“I called it!” Z dog laughed, “Pay up you leeches!” Her hands spread out, cards falling to the metal table as she made a mock grab for Prager’s pockets. He only snorted, batting her away with a soft ‘fuck off, z-dog.’ 

They all laughed, feeling the buzz return to them, the camaraderie. “I just can’t believe it. I thought she’d never do it.” Lyle laughed, almost a sense of pride in his tone.

Lopez snorted. “Why not? He's always wanted her.” Nods all around the table.

“Yeah, they just both would never admit it.” A chorus of agreement once again, but the silence dipped into their group again. An unspoken thing still hanging over them.

“So… what changed?”

No one had an answer. They were shocked seeing you guys trudge back up that hill an hour after Quaritch told them to set up camp. After they realized you had fucked the hell out of each other.  But for some reason it seemed so normal. Natural. The tension had to break at some point. Everything gives in eventually. And they had been waiting for you two to break for years. It took two  lifetimes. 

They didn’t want an answer. Not really. None of them would ever talk of it outside the group. They were not snitches and they cared for both of you far too much to even think of it anyways. 

They just hoped you two fucking didn't make your relationship worse, or even more complicated than it was naturally. 

But perhaps it already had…

*******

a.n: if you made it this far: I am impressed! I have had this idea since the first week of January and finally getting it out was great! I read it too much  to like it, or tell if it’s even good lol. But lmk what you think, or if you want a pt.2 👀 cause I’m thinking about it tbhhhh

[twistedwonderlandsimps]

Yandere Debuff!Yuu Mini AU

Okay so Yandere Debuff Yuu. As it implies, Yuu’s afflicted with a negative status effect that makes them act as a yandere for a short amount of time. It’s kind of like getting afflicted with confusion or curse in a role-playing game except the debuff is triggered randomly and only lasts for a limited time. Of course, as much as I like Yuu getting screwed over, I also like them having a break so the Yandere Debuff also has a wee bit of advantages I can give so it’s not completely a debuff I guess but we’ll still call it a debuff anyway. 

Basically, the Yandere Debuff randomly picks a person within Yuu’s vicinity to be their “beloved”. In exchange, the character who gets ‘targeted’ basically gets an overpowered bodyguard. It’s a win-win, kind of.

An example of the debuff getting activated was when the braincell group were running away from the monster in the Dwarfs’ Mine. The debuff triggered and randomly chose Deuce as its target. Yuu immediately became smitten with him and ran beside Deuce and then picked him up to carry him princess-style because, “I can’t let you get hurt! Oh dear, your poor feet must be hurting from all the running. Don’t worry, I’ll get us out of here quickly!” 

And with a sudden burst of stamina and strength, Yuu ran far ahead of Ace and Grim who watched them with wide eyes in disbelief.

“O-Oi! Yuu, don’t just leave us here! And why are you carrying Deuce?!”

“Henchhuman!  How dare you leave the great Grim here? Carry me, too!”

“Eh?” Deuce was simply too stunned to speak.

The Yandere Debuff’s time limit finished just as they got out from the mines, after which Yuu lost all their super strength and promptly dropped Deuce on the ground. 

Yuu refuses to acknowledge what happens every time after getting inflicted with the debuff. 

“Henchhuman, what just happened back there?”

“I have no idea what you’re saying, Grim. You must’ve been imagining things.”

So anyway, there are instances where the debuff targets one of the overblot boys which makes saving them a bit harder when you have an overprotective yandere willing to fight the others for you but even when the debuff is active, Yuu can still be reasoned with so there’s that. Simply telling them that if the overblot isn’t stopped in time then their beloved’s life would be in danger does the trick. They’re quick to change sides just to save their beloved and being like: “This is hurting me more than it will hurt you! I’ll make this quick!”

Now I’m just imagining Chapter 6 but with Yuu punching their way through the metal doors and walls in S.T.Y.X.  just to get their beloved back. They’re ripping through the metal with their bare hands with intense ferocity and  no one can stop them. Idia’s looking at the surveillance cameras in terror, hoping Yuu doesn’t find him anytime soon.

Most of the time though the Yandere Debuff activates without anything major happening so there’s just these instances where Yuu tries to kidnap their beloved with varying success. 

Leona? Yuu’s sneaking away with him over their shoulder. Leona woke up the moment Yuu carried him but let them be since he was too lazy to go to class. Besides, Yuu actually tries to make Leona’s sleep as peaceful and comfortable as possible. Occasionally, Leona would demand for massages or buy him food which Yuu happily does so who’s really the one winning here?

Kalim? Yuu simply asks Kalim to follow them. That was it. Yuu can literally just go up to Kalim, take his hand into theirs and then tug him gently in their direction. Jamil has had to intervene multiple times to stop Yuu from disappearing with Kalim initially but now he’s just like, ‘lmao yeah sure go ahead take him just bring him back before dinner’. He trusts Kalim will be safe with Yuu because he knows they won’t let any harm come to Kalim when they’re in ‘their zone’ (and by zone, it means when Yuu’s afflicted with the debuff but not like anyone knows what it is aside from Yuu).

Ace? Yuu probably just casually walks up to the Heartslabyul student and cuffs him to them. Ace blankly looks at Yuu, then at the handcuffs locked around both their wrists, and then back at Yuu.

“Shit, is it my turn now?”

“I don’t know what you’re saying, my love. You’ve always been the one for me.”

All things considered, Ace definitely knows how to use this situation to his advantage.

Perhaps along with getting the Yandere Debuff, Yuu gets an inventory which only they can access that’s full of the standard issue yandere starter kit: a signature weapon, ropes, cloths, gloves, chloroform… etc. But they haven’t ever used the other items that much (and will most likely not use it ever, thank you very much), except for the signature weapon. Pretty handy and useful, the thing is.

Anyway, Yandere Debuff Yuu.

[spitdrunken]

I want to be groomed (as an adult lmao) by Lucifer so bad now it's unreal...

He encourages you to tell him your troubles, lets you know he'd never judge you - whatever you're going through he'll be here for you. Always so doting, so happy to help when you fall down. It's weird but it's not. An unusual relationship, but one that comes so natural for him it feels normal to you too.

Which makes it all the harder when he starts acting that wee bit weird. When you find yourself sharing and relying on him more than you ever should have gotten comfortable with and you realize far too late how hard it is to tell him no. How much you stand to lose. The power he holds over not only you but your peers and everyone you know too.

The weird, fatherly role he'd slipped into doesn't fade as his actions veer off the road of appropriateness. You're left reeling as he tells you how proud of you he is in a paternal voice while kissing along the backside of your neck. Scolding you for wandering into a dangerous part of Pride like you were some helpless child and then later that night pressuring you into sleeping next to him and being just a bit too touchy-feely while you're trying to sleep.

Ngl I think a degree of infatilization on his part would be kinda creepy-hot too.

Hope this isn't too much (length-wise or content-wise). What you've written has given me brainworms.

HEY i don't know what went wrong but the recent post i wrote, this one, is a response to this ask! I swear that I saved it to the concepts with this ask, but somehow it didn't end up attached... SOB either way Anon I love your thoughts!

[ticklish-n-stuff]

Can you do Haikaveh for the questions, please!

FUCK YEAH I CAN- I mean, yes

1. Who has the cutest tickle laugh?

Kaveh! Mainly bc I like to think that Alhaitham has a more quiet laugh

2. Who is ticklish in unusual places and where would that be?

Alhaitham! He has all the odd tickle spots. Ticklish ears, ticklish hands, ticklish calves, you name it. And it always catches him off guard when Kaveh discovers a new spot

3. Who gets cheer-up tickles?

Kaveh bc he's a 'lil sissy (like me ;D)

4. Who takes advantage of the other one getting their arms stuck while taking off their shirt?

Alhaitham bc he's a lil shit. Kaveh would prob get slight paranoia everytime he has to change clothes lol

5. How did they discover each other’s ticklishness?

I don't think Haitham would go out of his way to tickle Kaveh, so him finding out was from pure accident. I mean Kaveh is just a walking tickle spot and with so many openings on his outfit it was only a matter of time 'till Alhaitham found out.

As for Alhaitham, either Kaveh wanted to take him down a peg or simply wanted to hear what his laugh is like (not like he'd admit it) and got the grand idea to tickle him. Alhaitham is really good at holding back his reactions, so he probably fooled Kaveh for a while that he wasn't ticklish until blondie accidentally brushed against one of the more unusual spots~

6. Who can’t take tickle bites?

I want to say both, so both lol. But Kaveh might be a wee bit more sensitive to them, esp along the neck area

7. Who has to be tickle-forced out of bed in the morning?

Alhaitham, need I say more?

8. Who gives up in a tickle fight?

Alhaitham lmao. I joked about this idea with a fren that Haitham just simply doesn't care that he's getting his shit wrecked and would rather just lay there and take it to get it over with

9. Who is in danger of getting hurt when attacking the other?

I don't think either of them get too squirmy, but if I had to choose then prob Alhaitham. He's def gottent atleast a kick to the face from trying to tickle Kaveh

10. Who always provokes the other into tickling them and how?

100% Kaveh. My poor boy just can't ask for it for the life of him. And Alhaitham always knows when he's in a lee mood, but plays dumb just to fuck around with him.

[downywrites]

There is literally no Lee!Slimecicle stuff and I am literally starving for Lee!Slimecicle. Maybe Charlie gets himself into a sticky situation? And any ler or lers of your choice are tired of the puns and wreck him? Thank you, I love your work!

Yes. Bird has something for you.

Lol I lost motivation halfway through this I am so sorry lmao APs are kicking my ass

The sound of pickaxe slamming into stone could get monotonous. The echoing ring of the iron bounced back and forth through the narrow space. Small pants of exertion could be heard from the miners, the only source of steady light flickering dangerously within the torch-powered lamp. The smell of sweat permeated the air, a scent that made Slimecicle scrunch up his nose distastefully. “Ew.” “What’s ew, big man?”

He barely glanced at the owner of the voice. “Tubbo, mine your own business.” A small sound of goat-like annoyance greeted his ears moments later. “Seriously, that’s the 10th pun. Dude, stop already.” The man ignored him, focusing on a small piece of ore that he found below his feet. He grunted quietly, feeling the strain of his muscles increase incrementally as he swung. With one final ‘crack’, the ore beneath his feet gave way. A large hole gaped beneath the ore he was standing on. With a start, he grabbed at the smooth stone desperately as he slipped into the hole of his own making.

Panicked eyes locked with squarish pupils. “Tubbo, get the others-” Tubbo smirked, a menacing look flickering across his face. His tail wagged softly as he crept towards his prey. “...T-Tubbo?” “You know, your puns have been getting to me a little more lately.” He neared his hands, gingerly pushing at a few fingers. Slime shook his head, hair bouncing slightly as he moved. Small little ‘nonono’s’ escaped his mouth as the goat pushed his fingers off, one by one. “You d-don’t have to do this…” A sneer. “Yeah, sorry. I think I do. Besides….” He gently pushed the man off the block he was holding onto. “You don’t take fall damage.”

Slime’s scream of fear slowly decreased in loudness. The only sign that Tubbo heard him at all was a single twitch of his ear. Grinning like a child in a candy store, he turned around swiftly, clapping his hands as to clean off the coal dust from his hoof-hands. Slime closed his eyes, wind whistling loudly in his ears. He braced himself for a painful landing, curling up into a ball. The sensation of something squishy stopped his fall abruptly. “What?” He opened one eye, then the other. He glanced around in confusion, placing his hands down on the gooey surface curiously. “Did I…?” He gasped quietly. “Oh no. Uhhh...Tubbo?” Pulling at his hands and his relatively-enveloped legs, he struggled to escape the sticky gel. “I got stuck on my brand!” Tubbo’s voice reverberated off the walls as he replied. “You got stuck on a slime, big S? Don’t worry! I’ll get you some...er...help!”

“Why did you hesitate on help?” A minute fluffy head popped out of the hole above him. The sight of blocks around the boy being mined made him sigh in relief. Ranboo and Tommy waved down at him. “Yo, Slime! We’ll help you, hold on a sec!” The winged boy hopped off the platform, gliding down in a tight circle. Ranboo glanced at Tubbo for a moment. “Hold on.” He scooped his platonic husband up in a hold that could remind a pet owner of a dog being cuddled to their owner’s chest. In a burst of allium-colored particles, he disappeared with a ‘vwoop’. Ranboo reappeared in front of the mass of slime. A small shriek of surprise greeted the enderman. “Dude, you can’t just teleport in front of me! I thought you were going to… ender me.” Slime winked, pushing up his glasses with his shoulder awkwardly.

A pair of blank looks greeted the comedian. “Uhh...tough crowd?” Tubbo stepped on the slimy substance, flicking his hooves when he got stuck for a moment. “The only reason this slime got you is because of your hybrid traits, you know. And you’ve made one pun too many.” His eyes glanced back at his husband, who looked back at him in mismatched confusion. “You know, I always wanted to know just how sensitive a smile hybrid is.” His eyes widened. “Tubbo, nonononono-” The goat hybrid sat to the side of him, ears twitching in amusement. Slimecicle himself was not as amused. He sputtered out protests and apologies. “Plehease, don’t! Ihi’m s-sorry, dohohon’t!” A single finger traced his neck slowly. Even the slightest of sensations sent the poor man into a fit of giggles. The added feeling of helplessness didn’t help him tamp down the swirl of butterflies in his stomach. He shook his head and scrunched his shoulders up, trying to escape Tubbo’s hand.

“That’s a pretty big reaction. Does the slime make you more ticklish or something, big man?” He fluttered more of his fingers over the nape of his neck, relishing in the small shivers he felt from his ministrations. Ranboo, not wanting to leave Tubbo hanging, climbed slowly onto the mass, wincing whenever gel smeared on his suit. He sat on the other side of Slimecicle, carefully kneading at his side with a single hand. The slime hybrid leaned away from the sensation at his side, giggling loudly. “Nohoho! Ihihi sahahaid Ihihi’m sohohorry!” “Sorry doesn’t cut it anymore, Slimy~ Now you have to pay in laughter!”

Tubbo shifted his focus from his neck to his other side, dragging his fingers over his clothed sides. Slime’s giggles climbed an octave, getting slightly more high-pitched as Tubbo roamed higher. “Oh? Are your sides a wee bit ticklish? Kitchy kitchy coo!” The man turned his head away from the goat, squeaking out a quiet protest. Ranboo awwed at the sound, tilting his head and letting his dual-toned hair cascade down on one side. He grabbed at the hem of his shirt, pulling it up slowly as to not disturb his partner on the opposite side. Picking up the end of his ponytail, he wiggled it over the man’s side experimentally. His reaction was instantaneous. “Guhuhuys, doho- RAHAHanbohOo!” Slime pulled at his gelatinous restraints half-heartedly, not really wanting the tickles to stop. Tubbo peered over his stomach to look at what the enderman was doing, before a wicked smile painted his face. “Oh Slimelee~” “Y-yehehes?” “Do you like nuzzles?” “Waahahahait, nohohohO-” Before Slimecicle was able to brace himself, the feeling of soft, fluffy wool made him shriek and squirm violently. The feeling of not one, but two fluffy tools on his sides was almost torture. Everytime he moved to one side to avoid the sensations, the other side would increase, forcing him to move back into place.

After a few minutes of desperate pulling, one of his hands came free. As soon as he had the chance, he pushed at Tubbo’s head, laughing even louder when Tubbo’s wooly hair dragged against the palm of his hand. “CUHUHUT IHIHIT OHOHUT!” Tubbo grinned, tail wagging from side to side almost violently fast behind him. “Oh, okay!” He pulled away quickly, motioning to Ranboo to stop as well. The enderman vwooped in slight confusion, tilting his head and pulling back in tandem with him. Slimecicle fake-pouted a little at the loss of the sensations. “Whihiy’d yohohou stohohop?”

“You told us to, big man!” The goat boy cheerfully quipped, getting up slowly. “Guess it’s time to go~” He began to walk away, trying to avoid sinking into the gel himself. Ranboo sat by the man’s side, tails lashing in slight confusion. He leaned closer to Slime, whispering out of the corner of his mouth. He strained to listen to the taller of the two. “I have no clue what he’s thinking.” Slime muffled his giggles with his free hand. “Listen, dude. I think I can free myself, but let’s do a bit just to piss Tubbo off. How about it?” Ranboo’s ears perked up. “I’d never pass up on something that could piss my husband.” Slime began to whine loudly about his predicament, wiggling in the gelatinous mass and shaking a large part of it. “aaaAAAA-” Tubbo winced from his position a few paces away from them. “Slimeci-” “I DON’T WANNA BE A PORNSTAR YET! I’M NOT THAT STUCK!”

Ranboo held it together pretty well, tails wagging behind him and grabbing onto a clump of rocks for balance and support. “Pff-” “What the FUCK?!?!” Tommy alighted on the rocks, russet color wings folding behind himself fluidly. He hurried over to Slime, pulling at him with all his strength. (Not that he has that much strength.) Slime let him, pushing at the gel himself in a weak attempt to escape. “T-tommy, how much did you hear?” A slight panicked Ranboo asked. “All I heard was that last thing. And no, Slime, you won’t be a pornstar. Pornstars need to be pretty at the very least.” Tubbo shouted from his spot outside the ‘splat zone’ of the gel. “And you sure as hell aren’t!” Slime retorted with a small smile on his face. “Well, neither are you, Mr. ‘I have hair covering the majority of my face and I have to gel it back so I can see’!” Tommy and Ranboo rolled their eyes. “Alright, let’s not mess around anymore. We need to get Slime out.” “Tommy mature pog?” “WHAT? I’M ALWAYS MATURE, YOU FUCKING BITCH!” “Here we go again.”

From then on, Slime vowed to never fuck around with Tubbo and his friends. At least, not for a few hours afterwards. (He may have made a few slime-related puns after he freed himself.)

[nneefa]

RinShi for the ask thing: 1, 18, 29, 33, and 36 (trying not to add too many haha always love seeing your thoughts on them)

1. How do they fall asleep? Wake up? Any rituals?

It actually doesn't take much for Rin to fall asleep; give him a soft pillow and warm comforter set, and he's out like a light, but man, does it take forever to wake him up. Neither does it take much for Shiemi to fall asleep, though it's much easier for her to wake up, especially since she owned/owns a garden; you have to be an early riser in order to tend to one.

In a domestic/cohabiting relationship, there'd be lots of cuddling. Rin sometimes likes to put on a bit of a light show with his flames for Shiemi, showcasing his (lack of) talent when it comes to forming shapes/things, but really, it's because his flames are warm and he knows it's the quickest way for Shiemi to snuggle closer to him. I feel like Shiemi takes up reading as a hobby, especially before bed. Sometimes, she'll read aloud if Rin asks her what she's reading, but then he winds up falling asleep to the sound of her voice. When she reads to herself, she also likes to trace soft circles into his hair/scalp, which also puts him to sleep instantly. But then, there are times where she'd get really immersed in whatever it is she's reading up into the wee hours of the morning until Kuro finally takes it upon himself to jump on her lap to get her to finally go to sleep. And even still, she's overcome with a buzz to keep going, but then she winds up watching Rin's sleeping face, his half-opened eyes and the tiny trail of drool dribbling down the corner of his mouth, and eventually falls asleep (but not without laughing at him).

Shiemi almost always wakes up before Rin because he sleeps like a log, so the task of getting him to wake up falls to her. Sometimes, she shakes him awake; sometimes, she softly calls his name softly between peppering his face with kisses (she realizes that he likes this method the most even if it's not the most successful); and sometimes, she leaves the task to Kuro, who either shapeshifts on top of him, sits on his face, or pushes him onto the floor. Smelling salts work too, lol, but it's not something Shiemi does often.

18. What are their dates like? How long do/did they date? Do they ever feel the need to take a break from each other?

Their dates, at first, are awkward, because while they've been friends for so long, dating is something neither of them are familiar with and trying to navigate what that means for both of them comes with a challenge. Heck, Rin never thought in a million years that Shiemi would ever return his feelings, so he's still reeling from that. I feel like Shiemi would not only consult Izumo and Paku - because she's the only one with any dating experience, besides Shima, but no one's asking him anything, much to his dismay - but she'd put her shoujo manga to good use, as well as any dating magazines/books that Izumo would recommend.

They definitely make do on their date at the amusement park like they promised. It's like, the first date they ever have and it's also the one that sets the stage/tone for their relationship, because not only is it super awkward because they feel like there's a rulebook they must follow, especially Shiemi, but their friends end up crashing their date; however, it's thanks to that that the tension dissipates and they realize that they don't have to try so hard; that they should just be themselves and whatever tricky bits they encounter, they'll deal with it accordingly. They'd have study and at-home dates at each others' residences, and missions where they're partners would wound up as dates. Like, so long as they're together and having fun, that's a date to them, but they'd also go out for fun too, like to the park or out to eat (which isn't often because Rin is poor af thanks to Mephy). They definitely take advantage of their out-of-town missions, because then they'd go sightseeing, food sampling, etc.

Their relationship is ever-lasting. I mean, it's my hope that Shiemi lives as long as Rin does, given that he's a half-demon and he'll outlive all of his friends, including his brother (I really hope that's not the case), so yeah. I don't think they ever feel the need to take a break, because they were friends with their own lives prior to dating each other. They'll still do their own thing despite this because Rin and Shiemi respect the hell out of each other and their boundaries.

29. How do they handle disasters or emergencies? Minor injuries? Sickness?

They're opposites when it comes to this. Shiemi is a doctor and tamer. Disaster preparedness is her shtick, so she handles this kind of thing with relative ease. She's collected, if not a little emotional, but for the most part, she's got her bearings together. It's Rin, Mr. I Like to Use My Body as a Punching Bag and Action Now, Consequences Later that makes everything difficult.

Rin's body doesn't sustain injuries. He heals well within a hour or two, depending on the type of injury, but Shiemi insists - is downright forceful actually - on applying first aid, not just because it's her job as a doctor/healer to heal, but because she doesn't like to see Rin get hurt. He tells her that she doesn't need to do it, but Shiemi's not having any of it, and Rin can appreciate the sentiment, because even though he knows he'll never keep a scar or bruise, the thought the Shiemi would go out of her way to take care of him means a lot to him. He even likes to keep the bandaid/gauze on too, as a reminder of this. (Shipping aside, I feel like Rin feels this way about Yukio too). Shiemi has callouses for days, literal farmer hands, and she's handles her own injuries like a champ. Rin, of course, panics when she gets hurt, and he doesn't like the idea of her being in danger, but he also knows that Shiemi is perfectly capable of taking care of herself.

As for sickness, again, Rin doesn't get sick, but if he did, Rin would frickin' hate it, lmao. Like, on one hand, Shiemi taking care of him? 👌🏽 But, Shiemi's cooking? Yeah, no, thank the high heavens he doesn't have to suffer through another helping of grass and herbs. Rin dotes on Shiemi whenever she gets sick, not that she's a fan of being coddled, but the meals that come with being sick are to die for and having him take care of her warms her heart. Rin has experience taking care of sick people, because Yukio used to get sick a lot, so this would definitely transfer over to Shiemi.

33. What kind presents do they get each other? Do they only do it on special occasions?

Shiemi would put a lot of thought into gifts for Rin, not that he wouldn't, but like, Shiemi freaking loves this kind of thing. She gives him flowers - and I'm gonna headcanon that she knows the language of flowers, so it's extra special - and at one point, she even makes him one of her homemade hair accessories to help him clip his bangs back. She gives him bags of her special tea blends, and herbs and seeds to use in his recipes too. Rin knows that Shiemi really loves his cooking, so he'd make her a really good meal, especially with the ingredients she gives him as a thank you. Rin would buy her hair accessories and ornaments, little knickknacks and handicrafts because he knows she's super into that stuff. It's not relegated to special occasions, but sometimes just because they were thinking about each other while looking at something that reminded them of one another.

36. What's their greatest strength as a couple? Their weakness?

God, there's much to choose from: the fact that they confide in each other their insecurities; that they're a source of comfort for one another; that they're so protective and attentive of each other; or that they're such a deep source of encouragement and inspiration for one another. I really feel like all of that is tied together, because within each of those instances, they were doing all of those things! Argh! Grace, why would you ask me this hard ass question?! 🤣

Okay, so I'll go with how protective/attentive they are of each other as their greatest strength, and the fact that they still keep secrets from each other as their weakness. The fact that they pay so much attention to one another means that they know what makes the other tick; they know precisely what to say, what to ask and do that'll prick each other's consciousness to be a better them (which, again, is tied to how they're a huge source of encouragement for each other), like how Rin thought of Shiemi when controlling his flames in Kyoto against the Impure King or just the fact that Rin literally broke Shiemi out of her self-contained prison to pursue exorcism for herself. I'll go on forever if I talk about this, but they're such good friends to each other!

As for their weakness, I think they have of habit of trying to tackle issues on their own instead of learning how to rely on each other fully. They keep secrets from each other to their detriment. Like, Rin has had so many close calls with Demon!Rin because he doesn't want to accept and face his insecurites, and I can't quite shake the feeling that Shiemi's going to be in a world of trouble with "The Beautiful People" cult that could possibly be avoided had she told someone where she was going and what was happening. I mean, I know she was sworn to secrecy, but at the same time, it reminds me of what happened in the beginning of the manga, where Rin had to keep the fact that he was the Son of Satan a secret, and how it blew up into an awful mess because he didn't tell anyone. I feel like Shiemi will experience something similar had she confided in someone about it too.

[magniloquent-raven]

Ooh for your prompts: Fluffy Elmax sleepover with cuddling for #16 pls :') xoxox

i had such a good time writing this omg thank you!!! tho there’s a couple bits that threaten to be angst because im physically incapable of writing pure fluff lmao. it’s just tiny bits tho. just a smidge.

also, because s4 isn’t out yet i uh. kinda just did a time skip but didn’t rly change anything about how s3 left off? i know we know hopper’s alive but like. i guess he’s just still in russia in this fic LMAO rip. don’t think about it too hard

posted on ao3 as well :)

—-

Max’s watch timer beeps obnoxiously again. 8:36. El’s late. She hits snooze.

“When’s your friend supposed to be here, sweetie?”

“Soon, mom. You know, you and Neil don’t have to wait up.” They do this every time. Like Max isn’t almost seventeen and perfectly capable of being alone in her own damn house for five minutes. At this rate they’re going to be late for whatever thing it is they’re going to, and Neil will be even more of a bitch than usual.

Her mom glances over at him. He’s sitting in his armchair looking surly, checking his watch pointedly. Asshole.

“Well…I don’t think—”

Max hears a car pull up out front. “Oh, thank fuck,” she mutters, turning on her heel and marching out to greet the Byers’.

Joyce climbs out of the passenger seat as Max strides across the lawn. “Max, honey!” she waves, grinning bright, “How are you?” There’s always a…tone to how she asks that. Questions lurking under the surface that they don’t talk about. It makes Max’s insides all squirmy thinking about it, though she is on some level grateful for the concern.

Max stands on the curb, tugging on her earring. A habit by now. It’s both a comfort and a reminder. She got one hell of a lecture the day she came out of the bathroom with blood running down her neck and a safety pin in her earlobe, but she didn’t regret it for a second.

El slides out of the driver’s seat, her smile crinkling the corners of her eyes. Max watches her stand and adjust her shirt. She always looked good in yellow. “I’m good,” Max responds after a beat, and it’s honest for once.

The door behind her creaks. Probably her mom and Neil coming out of the house, hopefully to leave, finally. She doesn’t turn around, just steps into Joyce’s waiting arms and presses her face into her shoulder. Max is taller than her now, by a couple inches, so it hurts her neck a little, but it’s worth it.

Will’s still tucked away in the backseat, peering through the window, Max waves at him when she peeks up over Joyce’s shoulder.

Then El distracts her. “Your hair,” she says, gently tugging on a lock behind her ear. Max steps back from Joyce, and runs a hand through it, cheeks pink. Three years ago she’d hacked off all her hair with a pocket-knife, woke up the morning of Billy’s funeral with strands still stuck to her neck, locks hanging ragged across her forehead. Her mother had thrown a fit.

“Yeah, I cut it again,” Max says, like that wasn’t obvious. She’d let it grow out uneven and messy for a while, but she broke out the scissors again about a month ago. It’s neater than her last haircut, but not by much.

El’s hand is in Max’s hair again, dangerously close to her face. Max’s knees wobble a little.

“Bitchin’,” she says solemnly, after a few seconds of consideration.  

Max’s grin is blinding.

Her mother cuts in, before she can respond, gives her the usual talk about staying in the house and making sure she’s got her emergency numbers memorized. Then she bids them all a hasty, distracted goodbye. Her mom was never very comfortable about the Byers’. Probably something about Joyce’s too-knowing gaze, or the fact that El glares daggers at Neil every time he’s within range.

She’s doing it now. Watching him get into his truck with a quiet rage in her eyes. Joyce puts a hand on her elbow, and it doesn’t move until Neil’s truck has turned the corner at the end of the street.

“We should get going,” Joyce says, checking her watch. “Will wanted to be at Claudia’s an hour ago but we got caught up at Mike’s house, and, well, you know how it is,” she flutters her hands, approximating a shrug.

She hugs El goodbye, then pulls Max in for another one. “Call us if you need anything,” she says, pulling back and putting her hands on Max’s shoulders. That sad glint is in her eye again, and Max knows the offer extends beyond tonight.

“Thanks, Joyce, we will.”

By the time she’s taken the corner at the end of Cherry Lane Max’s watch is beeping again.

El glances down at it, a pinch between her eyebrows. “…Was that for me?”

“Uh.”

The confusion melts off her face, replaced by a cheeky grin. “It was!”

Max shuts the alarm off, cheeks burning. “Why were you guys at Mike’s for so long?” she asks. eager to change the subject. If the guys are meeting up at Dustin’s the delay wasn’t because Will and Mike were catching up, and, well, Mike and El’s relationship is…of interest to Max. For reasons.

El purses her lips. It’s a face that tells Max they’re gonna need to be sitting and cozy for this conversation because it’s gonna be a long one. So, she links their arms and pulls her inside.

An hour later they’re huddled under a throw blanket on the couch. El is giggling, face in her hands, and Max is wheezing around a mouthful of skittles.

“Oh, that’s so not funny,” she chokes out, trying not to spew candy everywhere, which brings about a fresh wave of laughter. El’s shoulders are shaking, brushing against Max’s and making her warm all over. God damn, she’s missed this.

“Then why are you laughing,” El replies, poking her side and smiling from ear-to-ear.

She’s beautiful, Max thinks. Her braid is half-undone, letting her hair curl around her face in gentle waves, and her eyes are bright. She looks happy, and Max holds on to that, keeps it all for herself because she did that, she made that happen. She might not have everything she wants from El, but she’ll take whatever she can get. Whatever El wants to give. And sometimes just her smiles are enough, enough to make Max’s chest constrict and her heart glow, because for now, she’s happy too.

She laughs again, in leu of a response. How can she not, when she feels so light she could float away, high on the soft strawberry scent of El’s shampoo and the way her cheek dimples when she grins. But she can’t say that, so she says, “Because it’s Mike,” and pokes El right back. “I’m legally obligated to laugh at his misfortune.”

They have a complicated friendship, which mostly boils down to her being willing to bail him out when he’s in shit, but only if she gets to make fun of him while she does it.

El wrinkles her nose a little, but her smile doesn’t dim, “You two are weird.”

She’s pretty sure it used to bother El, how much Mike and Max fought. Max can’t help but wonder if they’d have gotten along better if she wasn’t in love with his girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend. Because she’d dumped him for good this time. Four months ago, apparently, though Mike was, until a few hours ago, under the impression it was temporary.

Max almost feels bad for him. Except she doesn’t. Apparently, he was a dick about the whole thing, so at least she has a solid reason not to.

“You love us,” Max scoffs. El may have broken up with Mike, but she’ll always love him in some way or another.

El’s expression softens, turns fond and sweet. She’s thinking about Mike, Max is sure, but the smile is still directed as her. Small victories. “I do,” she says quietly.

They order a pizza after that, and watch movies into the wee hours of the morning. By 3am Max’s throat is raw, and her stomach hurts from laughing (and too much pizza). It’s the most fun she’s had in a while. The Byers’ don’t visit as often as any of them would like.

Max isn’t even tired, but El’s head has been dropping onto her shoulder on and off for the past hour so she suggests they call it a night.

She knows that when the boys sleep over at each other’s houses they’ll take the floor, or the couch in the basement, anything but actually sharing a bed. As El wraps an arm around her waist and snuggles up with her under the blankets, Max takes a moment to wonder if that would be better or worse than this.

It always seemed so miserable to Max, how much boys have to limit themselves.  

But also…well, it might be easier sometimes. She wouldn’t have to deal with wanting things she shouldn’t want because El would be over there, and not right up in her space, hands warm and breath tickling Max’s ear. This is different than sitting thigh-to-thigh on the couch, it blurs the line more, and it’s the ambiguity that’s driving Max crazy.

She wasn’t tired before, but she’s wide-awake now.

Time creeps by strangely this late at night. Max isn’t sure how long she lays there, staring at the ceiling, trying to calm her pounding heart. El’s breath is steady, quiet, and her eyes are closed. Max is sure she’s asleep, she was so tired before.

Before she can stop herself her hand creeps up, brushes a strand of hair from El’s face.

Moonlit, she’s ethereal. There’s always been something otherworldly about El, with her big, dark eyes, always watching, boring holes into you with their intensity. Shadows play across her cheek, and Max tracks them for a while, absurdly jealous of moonlight.

She traces patterns on El’s forearm, the one resting on Max’s stomach, keeping her touch light so as not to wake her.

More time passes, and Max’s head feels heavy with sleep that won’t come. She’s groggy, leaning back but unable to keep her eyes closed.

She starts talking. Whispering. Remembering the times she read Wonder Woman comics to El until she fell asleep, and hoping, somewhere in her foggy brain, that it might work on herself too.

“You know… I always knew we’d be good friends. The second I heard your name I wanted to know you,” she murmurs, and draws a star on El’s wrist. “Didn’t know how badly I wanted until I saw you though. You were terrifying, and I loved it. And now…” Her eyes slide closed as she thinks. “You’re the best person I’ve ever met. You’re beautiful. Everything about you. And I love you…more than I should.” She sighs, sits in silence and cards her fingers through El’s hair. It’s getting so long.  

El’s hand closes around her wrist.

Max’s eyes fly open, and she stills, heart pounding. “Uh.” El’s eyes are open, looking up at her, she’s awake, she’s awake, oh fuck– “Um. Did—did I wake you up, I’m—sorry if I woke you—”

“It’s okay.” The corners of her mouth turn up, slow and careful, “I couldn’t sleep anyway.”

“Oh.” Is all Max can manage, staring down at El with wide eyes, waiting for her to…do something. Max’s palms are sweating. She doesn’t know what to expect.

El moves her hand, puts Max’s palm against her cheek and shuffles forward until they’re nose to nose.

“Oh.”

She tastes like toothpaste and kiwi lip balm, and kisses as sweetly as she smiles. Her hands end up in Max’s hair, fingers gentle but demanding, guiding her forward. If Max wasn’t already laying down, she’d need to be because her knees are jelly.

“Oh,” El echoes when she pulls back, laughter in her voice. She presses a chaste kiss to the corner of Max’s mouth, careful and deliberate. Then her expression softens, sobers. “I was jealous of you. At first. Didn’t…know what it was. Know why. So, I ignored you. And… I’m sorry.”

Max shakes her head, “Ancient history. It’s okay.”

“No, I,” El stops, furrows her brow, “You were so happy. Free. I wanted that. And then, then you helped me have that. So. Thank you.” She cups Max’s face, fingertips tracing along her cheekbone, and Max’s heart sings. “And I love you too.”

They kiss again, and Max decides that El sleeping on the floor would’ve been a terrible idea.

[elmalone]

hi hunnies, rollin’ in fashionably late here because i had classes and then work whew !!  my name’s nova and i’ll be your lizzie malone tour guide today. i’m super stoked for this group holy shit  &  i’d absolutely love to plot with each one of your babes. i’m also chill af so feel free to slide into my ims anytime !!!  xox ok let’s move onto the heaux you’re actually here to read up on. just for funsies: her stats page is here, a regularly updated connections list will be found here, pinterest aesthetic is here, and i slapped together a lil playlist for her right here.

was that ( CAITY LOTZ ) I just saw around the Flower Garden Gated Community? No, it was just ( ELIZABETH MALONE ), the ( THIRTY-FIVE YEAR OLD ) ( CIS FEMALE ) ( POLICE OFFICER ). ( SHE ) has been living in Boston for ( FOURTEEN YEARS ). One thing about them that they wouldn’t want you to know about them is ( SHE RISKED HER CAREER AND REPUTATION BY HELPING A SUSPECT. ). ( ELIZABETH ) can be described as ( ALTRUISTIC & DAUNTLESS ) as well as ( FOOLHARDY & STOIC ) and If you ask them, ( BAD BOYS BY INNER CIRCLE ) would be their anthem. 

backstory

born and raised in san diego, california in a middle class family to two loving, devoted parents. her father was the chief of the san diego police department ( now retired ), and her mother was a guidance counsellor at the middle school ( also retired now ).  being the eldest, elizabeth was spoiled a wee bit during her early childhood, until victoria was born and then, three years later, alexander was born. with two younger children to eat up her parents’ attention, elizabeth was left to her own devices most of the time, which lead her to mixing in with ‘‘‘‘‘the wrong crowd’’’’’’.

teenage years were wild, she was rebellious. she was an absolute  s h i t h e a d  as a teen, actually.  she’d sneak out in the middle of the night with the boys her parents warned her to stay away from, smoke in the girls’ washrooms at school, used fake ids to purchase booze and get into bars/clubs, vandalized the neighbourhood however she could with whatever she could… girl was a savage.  classic defiant party girl is the very essence of her childhood. with her dad being the captain of the sdpd, she found herself being picked up in the wee hours of the morning by the men and women who worked for him. she still remembers the dreaded radio call in they’d make to her dad while she sat in the backseat of the patrol car.

OVERDOSE & DEATH TW; she was headed down a pretty dangerous path, and her parents feared the worst, which would have happened, if it didn’t happen to one of her friends first. elizabeth’s friend had overdosed in the bathroom during one raging party, and by the time anyone stumbled upon him, it was too late. this, of course, traumatized her; shook her to her core and straightened her up real quick. the fact that it could have happened to her was certainly a big awakening for lizzie.

she needed a change, to get away from her home town and the people who knew her for the defiant kid she’d been thus far. elizabeth decided to follow in her dad’s footsteps; she wanted to make a difference and help people, prevent them from making the same mistakes she had, or anything worse. she wanted to serve and protect. so, to start completely fresh, she applied and was accepted to the police academy in boston, where she eventually moved. she’s been living and working in the city for fourteen years now.

wanted connections

sO ya girl’s bisexual; after living in the city for 14 years, it’s safe to say she’s probably had her fair share of relations. most likely a couple exes, which either ended because she’s basically a workaholic OR because she isn’t the best person ever at talking about her Feelings OR she gets freaked out when things get too deep / serious OR a combination of everything ??? lmao yikes give me angst

her Wild Party days might be over, but that doesn’t mean she completely lost her sense of a good time. so if anybody wants a regular drinking bud down at the bar?? lizzie’s here for it. she can be a tough nut to crack, but once she has alcohol in her system, she loosens up. 

and on thAT note...... maybe a drunken one night stand would be funny. or it doesn’t even have to be drunken tbh bc she got needs??? that single life gets pretty lonely. fwb, fling, booty call, hook up once and say they’ll never do it again but end up.....doing it again?? somebody love her pls

HER PATROL CAR PARTNER !!!!! can be found on the wc page on the main

possibly someone who either calls in to the department a lot and she’s somehow always the officer who ends up taking the call OR maybe someone who is known to the department ( bad bad ) and she’s dealt with them a few times. she could either sympathize and be trying to help them turn their life around, or they could absolutely despise each other for angsty fun

literally anything !!  i’m here for it all, hit me with whatever you could use lizzie for / where she would fit in your character’s life and i’ll be so happy :’)

[itoshit]

'We could try it yeah. But don't expect too much, s'been a long time since I slept well'

You seemed a bit too enthusiastic at the idea of sharing my bed but I did feel the same way inside.

'Just a quick reminder Vee. Tomorrow's evening I'll have to attend an important meeting with very dangerous people. I clearly don't want you around.'

You studied my face to see any hidden motives but there weren't.

'They're the type to rape women. For this one I'll be by myself, none of my subordinates by my side. If something happens I won't be able to protect you and myself. Last but not least, if I don't come back before dawn, call Sanzu. That will mean that I'm probably dead.'

'Wait. With whom are you going to discuss tomorrow Mikey?'

'You don't want to know Vee'

After our small talk uncomfortable silence reigned for the rest of the ride.

Accessing both of our rooms I helped you carrying your shopping bags to yours, and after taking note of your bedroom looks, I realised something.

'Yours looks so different from mine. Much liver'

I was sat on the edge of your bed while you were sorting your purchases.

'That's because I get to sleep'

Snorting at your reply I kept my gaze focused on you.

'You know you could lay down while I'm putting everything in place?'

'Hm? I'm too tensed to sleep now. My shoulders are hurting me'

Grimacing while stroking at them with my hands I felt your hand on mine, your legs on each of my sides.

'Lay. Down'

-Mikey

This one was short ngl but I'd to spice it up a wee bit. What are you gonna do about it hm?🤨

And shopping bags under Mikey's eyes lmao you got me! I wish you a good night, sweet dreams and see you tomorrow mwah <3

now mod. you know me well enough.

His hands immediately inch up my sides, palms tightening around my hips to anchor me. Frowning at me, he questions, What’re you doing, Vee?

I don’t reply, palms flat against his chest and push until he gives way, slowly lowering himself onto the mattress. Sliding my hand around his shoulders, ready to work my magic, I notice a small problem. Never mind, get back up. Can’t reach you when you’re lying down like that, I command, doing my best not to laugh at his annoyed pout, the back and forth taking a toll on his patience.

Our position is compromising to give him a massage in, but I’m too afraid he’ll tell me to go back to my bags if I ask him to move one more time. And even though I didn’t want to admit it, a very very very small part of me wants to stay like this.

Finally having access to the spots I always intended to reach, my eyebrows pull together as I rub along them, feeling the knots and kinks in his muscles. I work at one shoulder first, corner of my lip bit in concentration, smooth out every tightness I feel along his arms, encouraged by his groans of appreciation. Then, I move to the other and do the same. I catch his neck too, slowly tilting his head from left to right and wincing at the chorus of bones that crack at the touch. The man was living, breathing tension personified. His mind was never relaxed and while I massage him, I understand that the same went for his body.

I smile after I double check him, making sure I left no base uncovered, glancing down to see his eyes were stuck on me. I shiver. How long had he been staring at me like that?

I wanna get your back too, I tell him, already starting to inch off of him so he could follow my command when I give it, but a hand splayed across the small of my back stops me, pulls me in close. I gasp when I’m flush in his lap, clothed cunt sat just above his growing bulge.

Oh. During the massage, I shifted constantly. In doing so, I had accidentally grinded against him one, two— multiple times. I was too absorbed in making him feel better to notice, but I definitely can’t say the same for Mikey. I’m speechless.

I’m sorry, Mikey! I didn’t mean to— swear I’m not pulling a fast one on you, I rush out, trying to get out of his arms, but his hand keeps me trapped in his hold.

[revolutionary-pirate]

That's so interesting about John Trumbull, thanks for answering! And just... of /course/ he would brag and conveniently leave off the 19 days part, I don't blame you for making a point to mention it lmao, I would too. Do you mind if I ask what the duties of the aides were? I'm new to this particular branch of history but it's fascinating... I never would have expected that there were so many of them!

I don’t mind at all! I probably should have talked about the duties of the aides-de-camps, like, months ago, but I never got around to it so I’m glad you asked so that I’d finally sit down and do it (even though it took me forever to get to your ask because I’ve been busy and it’s a lot to talk about) xD I’ll break it down into parts because the answer is probably a lot longer than you thought it would be xD [While I mostly work from the Context of Washington, all the other generals also had aides that were similarly tasked in many ways] :

Headquarters

Drafting, copying, editing, translating, and docketing letters.

This is the most well-known duty of the aides-de-camp. I like to call them Washington’s Ghost Writers for this reason. The bulk of their jobs was, in large part, doing letter related things. Over 12,000 letters and orders were “written by” Washington during the course of the Revolution and he wouldn’t have been able to do it without his aides.

Often times Washington would dictate a letter that they would write down, or he would just inform them of what needed to be addressed and the aide would take care of it themselves.

With the involvement of the French in the Revolution, translation became invaluable. Several of Washington’s aides were fluent in French and it fell to them to communicate with their French allies.

Aides fluent in French included Tilghman, Hamilton, Laurens, and B. Walker.

Another facet of this is determining whether or not a letter is worth Washington’s attention.

Washington is a busy man. He doesn’t have time to look through every single letter that crosses his desk but Washington would ultimately go over any letter that required a response and then direct the response.

In one instance, his aides refused to accept a letter from General Howe of the British simply because it did not properly address George Washington as “General.”

They would also edit each other’s letters if necessary.

Communicating with Congress, while technically falling under the previous duty, is important enough to specify on its own.

The aide assigned the duty would occasionally write to Congress, keeping them updated on the goings-on of the army, actions that have occurred, the movements of the enemy, the state of the army, requests etc.

This duty was, for the most part, assigned to Robert Hanson Harrison, being Military Secretary. In most cases when you find a letter written to “Inform Congress” of anything, it’ll be either from Harrison directly or be from Washington but in Harrison’s handwriting. When he’s not available, the task gets delegated to Tilghman, him being assistant Secretary and all. If neither of them can do it then the task falls to someone else like Hamilton or, on occasion, Meade, as far as I’ve seen.

Attending/Recording meetings and councils

Being his staff, many of Washington’s Aides and Secretaries would attend meetings with him inside and outside of camp.

The aide’s unique position allowed them the privilege of being privy to every single action, plan, decision, movement etc. of the War that was made by George Washington. 

An aide (usually Harrison) or few would always be present with Washington at every meeting, Council of War, secret discussion, or whatever other occasion required Washington’s presence.

Whenever Washington would leave camp for a meeting, many in his flock of aides would follow.

At these meetings, it’s understood that the aides (mostly Harrison as Militar Secretary) occasionally played an active role at the table in advising, discussion, and decision making

The military secretary would also often be tasked with writing down the minutes of the proceedings.

Hosting/entertaining guests

Another duty of the aide-de-camp at Headquarters was hosting dinners.

The aides-de-camp would serve and entertain the guests at dinner time.

They would also give the toast, the task rotating around the Military Family.

Some Generals would even have their aides be the ones to serve dinner and make sure everyone’s cups remain filled.

In some cases, the aides would refuse to be subjected to that kind of work (e.g. Richard Varick telling Benedict Arnold straight up that he will not be his maid because he does not have time for that shit with his law studies)

Entertaining Guests and Hosting Dinners was one of the jobs that overwhelmed John Trumbull. It put you into contact with a lot of powerful and influential people - and there was a lot of pressure not to fuck it all up. You had to be at the top of your game because much of those people were of the social elites and the highest ranking in the army and your actions reflected back on Washington. Trumbull had overwhelmingly felt like he didn’t belong there.

Battlefield

On the battlefield, the aides weren’t even armed with anything more than a pistol and a sword because they were not expected to engage in fighting, they had other important duties to attend to.

Reconnoitering

Washington would often rely on his aides-de-camp to go out and gather intel on the enemy’s troop movements and of the battlefield in general, especially whenever he was lacking in mounted troops. (e.g. the Battle of Monmouth)

The reconnoitering was done by the aides both in and out of battle.

Hovering

Wherever Washington went on the battlefield, his flock of aides not delegated a task at the moment followed. People would often remark “The General did/went ____ attended by his flock of aides” when moving about the battlefield

This was because they needed to be near Washington so that when Washington issued an order, they’d be able to gallop off in an instant to relay the message to those it was for or do whatever it is that Washington needed them to do in that moment.

Advising/Assisting Washington

When Washington debated a plan of action, his aides would provide him with their input or find someone that they knew would be able to assist him in making a decision.

Carrying, delivering, and issuing information/orders in the field

Aides were frequently on the move during battle, traveling between divisions in order to relay information and make sure that all of the generals remained on as much the same page as possible.

They also had the authority to issue orders if the situation called for it and there was no other higher authority to give them at the time.

Rallying troops

The best way to explain this is to provide an example: At the Battle of Monmouth, Washington sent out all of his aides to rally the confused troops, quickly and efficiently forming them into a line of battle as directed.

Saving Washington’s life when he’s being a tad too daring for anyone’s comfort.

Washington had a tendency to put himself where it’s a wee bit (Read: extremely) dangerous and his aides would sometimes have to be the ones to go out and reign him back a little bit if they could convince him to go. (Convincing Washington to take himself out of danger was a battle all on its own.)

Field Missions

Delivering Letters

If a letter was important enough, an aide delivered it to the recipient personally. 

Important letters to Congress and/or big news was a major one for this category. 

When important battles happened, an aide would deliver the news himself. (e.g. Gates’s Aide, Wilkinson, after winning Saratoga, Washington’s aide Tilghman after winning Yorktown, etc.) 

If an aide delivered a letter it gave the letter a weight of importance and immediacy. You better open the letter immediately, read it, and respond to it right now.

Delivering personal letters from Washington or the other aides was also a thing that an aide might do. But, usually, if an aide was carrying personal letters than he was probably going on leave.

If they’re heading that way, anyway, might as well take the letters with them, y’know? Kind of thing.

Escort

It generally fell to one of the aides to provide escort for Martha Washington and whoever was with her to/from camp or wherever it was that she was going. Not always for the duration of the whole journey, she had other escorts it’s just that when Washington got news that she would be arriving soon, an aide was usually sent out to meet her and travel with her the rest of the way to camp.

Another example of this is Richard Kidder Meade escorting Charles Lee back to camp after he was released in a prisoner exchange during Valley Forge.

The aides would also occasionally provided escort for prisoners, but not often. You were a pretty high profile prisoner if an aide was escorting/watching you because these dudes are busy as fuck and were needed for other things.

As mentioned above, Reconnoitering

Aides occasionally sent out to get a lay of the land and see what they can find of the enemy outside of battle as well.

Super top secret missions and shit

Honestly, have no idea what any of this was specifically aside from the fact that it happened at least once with Meade and that they were never put to paper because it was too risky to write them down.

Special Missions

Occasionally Aides were sent out to complete specific tasks out in the field. e.g.:

Joseph Reed was sent out to form the Washington’s Cruisers, a small naval force created by Washington in the absence of a Continental Navy not yet authorized by Congress.

Alexander Hamilton and Caleb Gibbs sent out to meet Gates in Albany and get him to send to Washington troops/reinforcements.

John Laurens was sent to Rhode Island to be the liaison between the recently arrived French Fleet and the American forces there.

Unique Tasks

Not all tasks were universal. Washington was adept at tailor-making tasks to fit each of his aides’ unique skill sets in order to get the most out of them and their service. This wasn’t always the case, some tasks were entirely circumstantial but here’s a rundown on what some of those things looked like:

Military Secretary

As I’ve mentioned throughout this, there were actually two separate job titles among the aides: Military Secretary and Aide-de-Camp.

There were only four Military Secretaries over the course of the War: Joseph Reed, Edmund Randolph, Robert Hanson Harrison, and Jonathan Trumbull Jr. 

I’ve mentioned some of their duties already but others include things like:

Robert Hanson Harrison, when he wasn’t going with Washington out of camp, running Headquarters in Washington’s absence, acting kinda like a pseudo-Chief of Staff in that regard.

He brought the aides their work, got them up in the morning, made sure they were on task and that their work was getting done etc.

There were also Assistant Secretaries.

When Washington and many of the staff had to leave camp to travel with the commander-in-chief, an assistant secretary was generally left behind to forward letters and keep things going a bit in headquarters while Washington was away.

Prisoner Exchange

When the prisoner exchange committees were formed, Robert Hanson Harrison was made a commissary and went out with others to negotiate prisoner exchanges with the British. Alexander Hamilton also became a commissary of prisoner exchange alongside him.

Caleb Gibbs

Gibbs is a bit of a unique case. He was Captain of Washington’s Guard and given aide-de-camp privileges and duties without ever being appointed one. He had a range of unique duties in addition to the other aides’ duties thanks to his actual job and those include

scoping out the best defensible position and choosing where Washington was to make his headquarters based on that.

Managing the household

Handling the Military Family’s finances.

He and his men screening visitors and anyone who approached headquarters in general so that the other aides wouldn’t have to be distracted from their work and so that they could keep the premise secure.

Organizing/was on night watch.

Overseeing the security of all of their papers and baggage

Things more suited for a post about the Life Guard than this one.

Richard Varick

Despite being an aide-de-camp, Varick never resided at Headquarters as an aide. Instead, he was holed up in a little house in Poughkeepsie with a few assistants and all of Washington’s correspondence written over the course of the war.

Varick’s job as an aide was the compiling of what has come to be known as the Varick Transcripts. He organized and then transcribed every single piece of paper that came and went from headquarters, compiling them into 44 volumes, each 300+ pages long, over the course of two and a half years, finishing at the close of the war. 

Washington called him his “Recording Secretary” and assigning Varick with the task of organizing and copying his papers was him showing the rest of the world the amount of trust and faith he had in Varick, his character, and his innocence during the Benedict Arnold debacle.

Pierre Penet

Was a French Merchant and appointed honorary aide-de-camp. He came to America to arrange a deal for supplying Washington with goods and then requested the privilege to be Washington’s aide so that he could conduct his business in Washington’s name while wearing the uniform of a continental soldier and the green sash of the aides despite never intending to come back to America while the war was still going on. The request was granted and Penet was made an aide.

John Walker

An interesting case. Virginia’s Executive Council wanted an agent in Headquarters so that would regularly report to them the situation in the Continental Army. Washington was hesitant and also knew that if he accepted then all the other states would want that, too, but he couldn’t delegate the task to anyone in the staff, so the Virginia Executive Council nominated Walker and he was made an aide-de-camp while Walker’s real mission remained a secret. He didn’t stick around for long.

Richard Kidder Meade

Directly interacting with the soldiers at times.

This wasn’t something that the aides commonly did and is something that, as far as my research has extended at this point, was unique to him.

The Orderly Books from Valley Forge stated things like

Officers report to Meade their troop numbers and the lists of all troops that have joined or reenlisted in their companies/regiments since the beginning of April.

Officers were to report to Meade for directions on how and where to build their huts

He was assigned Field Officer of the Day on multiple occasions (~once a month during Valley Forge) and I have yet to find any other of Washington’s staff in any orderly book having been assigned this task.

Tasks include what was essentially Policing Camp

Receiving reports from officers on watch/guard

doing rounds to make sure they were doing their jobs

Parading troops

Drilling troops

Surveilling Troops and camp sutlers to make sure they were behaving themselves.

Sent out scouts and arranged patrols

reported to the Commander-in-Chief anything of note that day.

That probably gets the gist of it. I might have missed something in there but I’m pretty sure I’ve covered everything that’s important. Examples are also not all-inclusive lists, they’re just examples. The unique tasks section falls under that distinction as well. I’m really glad that you’ve taken enough of an interest in this particular branch of history to ask about it! But yeah, there were a lot of them. The war was long and the task was difficult. It wasn’t a job many particularly wanted, but it was a good job to have thanks to the immense networking capabilities that it offered which could help a guy vertically climb their way into other positions if they so desired. There were some that were perfectly content with the job, though.32 is just the number of aides Washington had over the course of the war!! Each of the other generals also had numerous aides, so there’s a lot of them.Again, sorry this took me so long to answer!! There was a lot and I have been busy.I’d provide all my sources but I don’t have time to hunt down where I got all my information from since I just spewed this information out cold, but I know a lot of what’s knocking around in my brain comes from Lefkowitz’s book, George Washington’s Indispensable Men. Stuff on Field Officers of the Day came from Ward’s Washington’s Enforcers. And what didn’t come from those places probably came from what I’ve gathered/absorbed/inferred/concluded from my own research.

[yeolkisses]

NSFW WYR

Tagged by @causekpop, thank youuu 💖💖💖 I totally wasn’t blushing the whole time I did this what hahahahha 😂😳😬

how to play:

list eight of your biases and bias wreckers so that each of them has one number and then answer the questions by copying the post and bolding your answers and/or giving an explanation beneath. don’t look at the questions before making your list though! tag your friends who you think would like playing the game as well.

Alright I’m gonna tag people here so they can make their bias list before they look at the questions because I *almost* messed up when I got tagged but I read the instructions so yeah 👍 tagging @laineylovegirl @ceeisinthehouse @okxu @solifiedchansooobsesser @vonseok @johnnyxin @negativenine @peachy-mari

biases/bias wreckers:

1. Chanyeol

2. Jungkook

3. Luhan

4. Yoongi

5. Jongin

6. Kyungsoo

7. Seokjin

8. Taehyung

(Gee I wonder what my bias groups are)

would you rather:

fall asleep next to 7 OR wake up next to 8?

Uhmmmm oh boy. Wake up next to Taetae??? He’s so cute so why not lol. His little smiley eyes peeking over the sheets while the sunlight streams in…sure why not.

make out with 4 OR grind in a club with 1?

hRMMM I’m choking but definitely grinding on Chanyeol. No questions asked. Oml I would look like such an idiot though I move like a newborn deer who can’t use their legs (my face must be red as fuck 😅)

play spin the bottle with 3, 4, and 8 OR take body shots with 5, 6, and 7?

Ooh…body shots with Jongin, Kyungsoo, and Seokjin, because like. Damn. All of them have nice lips. And bodies. And faces. And everything. Yup, body shots. (I wouldn’t even drink though lmao)

play never have i ever with 1, 7, and 8 OR strip poker with 2, 4, and 5?

Lol with my luck I’d be losing, but I’d go with strip poker. Kookie, and Yoongi, and Jongin…yes pleaseeeeee to all of them.

give 2 a lap dance OR get a lap dance from 5?

That’s like asking who I would rather die next to. I would DIE. DIEEEE. I must be blushing terribly holy shit but,,,,,, give Jungkook a lap dance 🙊🙊🙊 he’s just….ahhhhh.

give hickeys to 1 OR get hickeys from 7?

Give them to Chanyeol oh my goodnessssssss his pretty pretty neck yessssssss I’m down. 110% down. His soft skin, omg listening to him…yes. Love that boy’s neck.

get a naughty video from 6 OR get naughty pics from 2?

I’m choKING BUT… I have to choose my Kookie 😳😳😳 I mean he’s already pretty damn sexy how much better can he get… right? x_x I’d probably block him lmfao. I’m amazed my face hasn’t turned into ashes yet by how badly it’s burning rn.

have romantic sex with 4 OR rough sex with 6?

MY FACE IS GOING TO FALL OFF I’M GONNA HAVE A HEARTATTACK MY INNOCENT SELF SHOULDN’T BE DOING THIS WHAT but uhhh…Romantic with Yoongi? Like I love my Soo baby, but my Suga Daddy comes first and I’m also a wee bit of a hopeless romantic, so uh. Yeah. Romantic 🙈

have sweet talk with 1 OR dirty talk with 3?

Luhan sang Lu so I’d say that’s dirty talk enough x_x I’ll take Chanyeol’s sweet lies, please 😂 omg I hate myself that was a horrible joke but I’m amazed it even worked out that way but anyway, Chanyeol’s sweet nothings whispered in my ear while we’re cuddling after a long day? I’ll take it.

have shower sex with 6 OR pool sex with 7?

Eeeeeeeeee pool sex! I was supposed to write a pool smut this summer but that never happened x_x but pool sex, with Jinnie…sure. Sureeeee. Those shoulders…sure. Yup. Sure sure sure. Aight 👌

have kitchen sex with 5 OR wall sex with 8?

Ehehehehehehe this is killing me my face hurtsssss but I’d rather be in the kitchen with Jongin. I feel like the kitchen is a diverse place, you never know what’s gonna happen…and I feel like walls are dangerous lol. Knowing me, I would fall and hurt myself lmao.

get teased under the table at a formal dinner by 3 OR do it to 4?

I don’t think I could tease anyone…I’m the opposite of subtle lol…but at the same time, I probably couldn’t keep a poker face…I guess I’d rather be teased by Luhan though. Yeah, that’d be fine lol. He has a girlfriend thoughhhh I feel so weird whenever I talk about him ahhhh 😩

have angry sex with 2 or make-up sex with 1?

Omg no no noooooo I can’t choose between my babes!!! I feel like makeup sex doesn’t fix anything though like?? Let’s talk it out instead??? Coming from someone with no relationship experience lmao ummmm but I don’t feel like angry sex fixes anything either because again?? Let’s talk it out????? But if I gotta choose….I’ll take Chanyeol. He’d probably be really soft and sweet and shit, gently whispering stuff and moving slowly, it’d be passionate and loving and alright I’m sold I’ll take Chanyeol please.

have car sex with 7 OR backstage sex with 5?

Well car sex would end with us rolling down a hill to our demise because I’m bad luck sooooo I’ll take backstage with Jongin. I think the whole backstage thing is a bit hot too? Like, being all sweaty after his performance and yet he still has the stamina to go for it, his skin all golden and glowing and him using his dance moves, his hair slicked to his forehead, the sounds of exhaustion and pleasure he’d make…

get overstimulated by 3 OR get your orgasm denied by 2?

Jungkook would be a little shit wouldn’t he well I’ll take him anyway. Mostly because I’m still awkward with Luhan wahhhhhhh. And Jungkook has stolen my heart anyway (but not from Chanyeol). Plus I think it’d be something he’d do. Driving me insane, yeah I could see that being a thing.

go down on 1 OR have 5 go down on you?

I’m terrified of both but at the same time I’d be down with either what no I didn’t just say that uhm anyway I’ll take Chanyeol I guess right lmao I’d probably pass out anyway next question

ride 3′s thigh OR sit on 2′s face?

I’m cryinggggg this is shamefully easy but I feel like I need to bathe in a shit ton of holy water once I get home but I 😩 I’d sit on Jungkook’s face alright? And probably suffocate him RIP Right this is just a friendly sit right? Like there’s no more space on a bus or something and he’s sitting upside down for some reason so I sit on his face right that’s all??? Ehehehhehe my face is burning again.

get handcuffed by 8 OR blindfolded by 1?

Uhm what Chanyeol wants, Chanyeol can have, enough said…plus I think I’d freak out if I couldn’t use my hands.

make 6 beg OR have 4 spank you?

Ehhh uhm. I guess Yoongi? Idk 😅😅😅 I don’t think I could dom anyone and Kyungsoo wouldn’t let anyone tell him what to do anyway 😂 so I guess I’ll take Yoongi.

dominate 1 OR be dominated by 2?

C-can I have both? I really don’t think I could dominate anyone… I’d have to take Jungkook… I’m sorry Chanyeol

get tied up by 8 OR have phone sex with 3?

Phone sex with Luhan,,,,because like, he’s always on call I hate myself lmao also I don’t think I could deal with being tied up x_x I’d freak out.

have morning sex with 4 OR a one night stand with 5?

I couldn’t do a one night stand, sorry Jongin x_x I’ll take Yoongi. He’d probably be lazy and tired and it’d just be slow and soft actually I’d probably fall asleep again lmao

would you rather have a threesome with 1 and 4 OR 2 and 3?

Ahhhh whyyyyy…..Chanyeol and Yoongi…….vs Jungkookie and Luhan……omg I can’t. The rappers vs my babies…well they’re all my babies….ugh fuck it I guess I’ll go with Chanyeol and Yoongi since I love Chanyeol so so much and Yoongi kinda was my bias before Jungkook, and Luhan’s got a gf so I feel weird talking about him….ugh RIP.

This was hecka fun and also super embarrassingly awkward lmao

[mamasgonewalkabout-blog]

Into The Mystic

Sailing Magnetic Island (Aka Maggie) – Apr 23, 2018

DISCLAIMER: If you hate seeing my ridiculous, lop-sided grin and reading a bunch of self-congratulating drivel, this blog is NOT for you! Consider yourself well warned!

As I’ve mentioned before, I am constantly embroiled in some sort of internal tug of war. Being intrigued, yet cautious (dare I say afraid). Adventuresome, yet stuck. Energetic, yet lazy. Young at heart, old in body!! I’d like to think I’m not the only one?? There’s a constant inner argument of what is or is not: Possible. Proper. Realistic. Folly. Stupid. Silly. Dangerous. Brave. Cowardly.

Sorry, went off on a bit of a tangent there. I blame sunstroke 😉 And the fact that I managed to accomplish many of my ‘be-brave-and-just-do-it’ moments yesterday. *I understand that most, if not all, of the things that I have never tried and/or been afraid of are old hat, or inconsequential, to many. I’m not looking for a medal, or kudos for doing something considered natural for most human beings! I guess I just want to record my journey and have something to look back on when I’m feeling the coward, or incapable of trying something new. And who knows, for as many who may shake their head at the triviality of it all, there may be just one who finds inspiration – hence my sharing.

Welcome aboard the Big Mama. She’s a beautiful boat and home to 3 of the nicest people you’ll meet. Lisa, Stuart and their son Fletcher (and their little dog too!). They ooze exactly what you’d imagine true ‘island cool’ to be. Sailors to the core. And the other 2 families that joined us for the day (both from other parts of Oz) were super friendly as well.

The morning started off with coffee and fresh scones (with jam & whipped cream). *OMG I could’ve eaten an entire platter! (There will be no pictures of food as we were too busy eating it! Sorry) Then it was over to another part of the Island to a private beach to go for a swim, kayak or paddle board.

Here comes first “Big Decision” moment. The sailboat couldn’t make it too close to shore (John says we were about 50 or so meters out? Sure, okay I’ll take it) So, we could either swim in or Stu would motor us in on the dingy.

  INTERNAL DIALOGUE:

“The water may be beautiful, BUT you still can’t see what’s going on below”

“It’s not that far, and look, others are doing it!”

“You are NOT a strong swimmer, remember? You sink like a stone. Your dog paddle is like something out of a ‘how not to swim’ demo in an after-school special”

“But the water is super salty and you can actually float here!”

“Go ahead, make a fool out of yourself and need rescuing half way across.”

SCREW IT! Let’s do this!

The real beautiful thing about this moment was that I did not attempt to race to shore, imagining the giant <insert your worst nightmare creature here> coming up to take a chunk out of me. I just floated along (so much salt, I don’t think I could’ve drowned it I’d wanted too!) and made my way across. The water was so warm. Like a liquid cocoon. And I made it to the beach. Victory is mine!

Then I started eyeing up those Stand Up Paddleboards. Like surfing, I’ve wanted to try them as well. Something about gliding over the water on your own steam. I ask Stu “What’s the trick to those?” he had a one-word answer, “Relax”. Huh? Okay, fair enough.

I watched the others for a bit. Now, watching most everyone’s multiple attempts produce wobbling and falling into the water (including Mr. I-Stood-Up-Surfing), did not inspire confidence! And that’s the truth! But, by God I was going to TRY. “Big Decision Moment” #2

I clambered onto the board and onto my knees. Okay, that wasn’t so bad. Using the paddle for leverage and balance in front of me (as I’d watched in Youtube videos LOL) I took a deep breath, took Stu’s advice “Relax” and pushed myself up. With one push I WAS UP. And it felt AWESOME. And, I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel great to hear my compatriots hooting & hollering their congratulations behind me as I began paddling about. I even managed to ‘dismount’ with some sort of grace as well, I might add 😉

So, I practiced a while longer and PADDLED my way back, that 50+ meters to the boat. Now, if I may add a wee bit of humility here (going for total honesty of course!) As I approached the boat Lisa and Stu were having a good laugh. Apparently, I was BACKWARDS on the board AND I was also holding the paddle BACKWARDS. (No wonder it took all my energy! Huh!) So, my paddling dyslexia made things harder than they needed be, but I still did it. I shall take that embarrassment and turn it into a major success. BOOM!

Back on the boat, we were now invited to try Boomnetting. I’d never heard of it before. The idea of purposefully lowering myself into a large fishing net and being dragged along the water behind a boat (the word ‘bait’ comes to mind) had never really been on my Bucketlist, I must say. “Big Decision Moment” #3 Climbing into a giant net and hanging on for dear life. Why the hell not? I’m on a roll!

Back on the boat Lisa produced a feast of a lunch that can only be described as crazy delicious (where IS that thesaurus??) Baked Spanish mackerel with lemon, potato salad, a red beet coleslaw (reminded me a bit of my Oma’s Italian Salad, that pink color) green salad, chicken skewers, beef skewers and warm fresh rolls with butter. How she managed all that in that little galley kitchen –my hat’s off to you, lady! I then proceeded to plop myself, unceremoniously, into one of the many comfy beanbag chairs to digest as we sailed off to find a good snorkel spot on the fringing reef.

Next up: VERY, VERY OPEN WATER SNORKELING. “Big Decision Moment” #4 There is something very different about snorkeling near shore and snorkeling out in the middle of the Big Blue Ocean. I did it and I’m glad I did. The reef is RIGHT THERE underneath, some of the larger sea grass nearly touching me (eek!) My heart pounded the whole time and I got the hiccups (hiccups through a snorkel, sounds ridiculous btw!!) but I saw some amazing shaped coral and plenty of colorful fish.

Side note: As I was putting on my flippers, I turned to Stu “Am I putting these on the right feet? I’ve been known to do things backasswards you know?” He called me a ‘cheeky American’. Funny guy!

And then we proceeded to sail back. The water was definitely choppier than when we’d left and we did some rockin’ and rollin’, that’s for sure! Big Moment for My Tummy – I did not get seasick (as I thought I might) Even managed to scarf down some cookies and fruit for dessert. I just might be a pro, people! LMAO

It was an amazing day filled with adventure and camaraderie. 

And, I have to thank John for his support & playing photographer( so I would have ‘proof’ of my momentous accomplishments). He just shakes his head and let’s me do my thing, and that’s a major accomplishment for him! The patience of Job, that guy!

Anyways, I am tired and sore as I type. Even adventurous souls need a bit of R&R now and again. Nothing Ibuprofen and an afternoon by the pool won’t cure.

Big hugs to all and to all a good night! xoxoxo

[diamondarmored-blog1]

this is whiny af. and very long. bit of an explanation of some stuff and a wee request. 

warning, there’s a brief mention of sexual abuse and A LOT of historic drama. I’ve tried really hard not to appear in search tags for the relevant areas, so please try not to cause it to appear by mentioning the fandom or muse name without cutting it up (e.g. sei//fer) because as you’ll see, I don’t want these people near me. sit down and let uncle charlie tell you a horror story.

I’ve been slow again on here, I’M SORRY!! I was making an FFX blog. I know I’m getting a reputation for being a serial blog hopper, but the reason for that is, I’ve had two muses I really really loved and nothing else has ever come close. One was my Chuami, who naturally dropped in intensity as time went on (I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing - you can’t keep forcing a muse into ever more dramatic scenarios without giving them a break or they end up mutated and OP). The other was V//elka. Seifer is the nearest I’ve gotten but there’s still a void. :,(

V//elka did not die naturally. You may have seen me mention “the other fandom I was in” and how it’s a cesspit of bullying asscreases, sexual harassers, liars, stalkers, thieves and assorted other villains. But you have not heard the tale.

There was one other blog for that muse when I made mine. I asked her if she’d be okay with another being around, even though I’m not obliged to ask permission to make a blog, and she completely ignored me. I thought maybe it was a weird thing to ask, and my other blog in that fandom was welcomed and pretty popular with the non-RPer audience we had. I was the only one of that character active. So I just went ahead and did it, thinking it was nbd. I was Wrong. Within not-very-long, the girl and her friends began to employ every trick, tactic and scheme they could to bully me into abandoning, including but not limited to: forcing new RPers to choose between them and me, freezing out anyone who was seen to interact with me, stealing my content, stealing my friends’ muses(! yeah, the whole thing), copying my backstory and ships wherever ridiculing them didn’t work, incorporating my work into their muses in the same way, copying my art (one of them was an art student and I am a very bad beginner - she would take my drawings and redo them with a higher level of skill and collect the praise for it), sending spies to pretend to be my friend so they could try to trick me into insulting them so they could get caps, lying about me (one of them spread the rumour that I was some kind of sex obsessed pervert - LMAO AMARITE?!), making PSA posts about how I’m not entitled to be part of the fandom, and blaming me for their personal issues (e.g. a historically kind and well mannered user who had been absent for months made a callout post and @’d them all, explaining that he couldn’t be there anymore because they had bullied him and made fun of his abusive history - this was somehow my fault. One of them said I put him up to it because I was jealous of her(?) and they actually responded to him by saying “sorry your daddy touched you” and making jokes about how they’d never be friends with someone as low as him). Eventually, even though me and my main ship partner had a shitload of non-RPer fans for the work we were doing and our partnership was very popular, neither of us could even log in anymore. Every time we spoke or moved, some stupid plan was enacted to make sure it backfired on us. We were replicated and our muses turned into pandering caricatures of what they originally were until we left. My muse was a real point of pride for me, she was the best example of a strong, confident female lead I had ever written, and she was made into a sex crazed goth domme by the very people who accused me of that and declared it abhorrent. Hedge’s was turned from a complicated, fiercely proud, genderfluid(?) killer to a fragile little flower with a dick in a dress. It wasn’t just us, by the way. Every good writer who joined the fandom is gone. They were all gone shortly after I arrived. I tracked some down and asked why, and they all told the same story, one of them said it was cyclical and now that I’m gone, they’ll choose someone else in my place. Meanwhile - here’s the kicker - the group responsible don’t even fucking write.The only time they do is when they’re using it as a weapon against somebody, by stealing their plot or their ship and acting it out themselves. Now that the writers have embarked on a mass exodus and none have appeared to take our places, all they do is shitpost because there’s no one left to target. The stolen muses’ blogs are dead. In between all this, as if this wasn’t enough of a problem, three of them have a penchant for little girls. 

Where are you going with this, Charlie? Well, chums, first of all, it goes a little way to explaining my aversion to smut. It explains why I bang on about welcoming other Seifers so much, why I’m so strict on drama now, and why I’ll bite the head off of anyone who claims to be the sole granter of permission to make a certain muse. I instantly block anyone who overdramatises things to make them sound more dramariffic than they are, no discussion, no exceptions. I am extremely wary of anyone with defensive rules, or people who post unprompted PSAs about ~being nice to duplicates~ because in my experience so far, it’s the shady people who do that - they have something to cover up. I handled it pretty badly at the time, because I didn’t want to make things worse so I let myself get steamrollered. If it happened again now, I wouldn’t mind losing every follower I have as a result of telling them to shove it up their festering assholes. ANYWAY I’m telling you all this because my search for a replacement muse has gone cold, and that’s left me feeling a bit dead and uninspired, which leads me to keep losing my flow with Seifer as well. Lately, I’ve had a lot of casual-sleazy smut crossing my dash from sources I don’t follow, and it sorta brings back bad memories. SO I went onto V//elka’s blog with the idea of reclaiming it somehow, because it feels like she’s in a locked room full of dangerous weirdos and I can’t get her out unless I extract her completely. Here’s where the request comes in.  I really want to bring her away from all that and keep her somehow. I wiped away all the content that was bothering me, changed her url, and I might change her theme too, I’m not sure. Her block list is 200 users long because I blocked fucking everyone from that fandom who was on my follower list to ensure a totally clean break. I’ve added in sketched out FFVIII and FFX verses, removed her source ones and put a request-only line on them to deter anyone who joins that fandom in future. I think the only person I’ll write V in her normal, original verse with is Mirna at the minute (she came from this hellhole as well). If I finish giving her a facelift, will I be able to engage the services of my good friends and neighbours here to help me draw her out of that environment? You don’t have to commit to anything, just treat her like any OC. Even if it doesn’t work and I can’t revive her, at least I’ll have tried. If it doesn’t fail and I do manage to scrape back some focus, the blog hopping will cease, lmao.  If anyone feels like doing me a solid. That’d be great. Cos honestly, that whole experience tainted RP as a whole for me and I’ve never really been as into it since.