#Automatic Light Sensor for Home

[motionsensorlights]

Pir Motion Sensor Light is an innovative product that allows you to turn on/off your lights remotely. It has been designed to be easy to install and operate.

[sensinova]

Some lights automatically go on when you enter a room or step onto a front porch. When that happens, motion sensor lights are in play. If you wish you had some of that technology for your own, well, you can. Keep reading to learn more about motion sensor lights and how you can get them.

[sirfrogsworth]

Frogman's Camera Buying Guide

A few weeks ago someone asked if I could recommend an interchangeable lens camera (ILC) to supplement their smartphone photos and hopefully get better pictures of important things like vacations and pets.

I decided to go very extra with my response and due to that... I'm still not finished with it.

I'm worried I am letting this person down because they did not ask for a giant post explaining every detail about cameras in the history of forever.

So I am going to do a camera recommendation post without as much explanation and hopefully I can finish the giant post at some point in the near future.

If you want to take better pictures you are probably going to need a camera with a decent sized sensor, a fast lens, a tripod, and a flash.

The bigger sensor gives you more dynamic range so you can capture brighter and darker things in the photo.

A fast lens has a giant hole in the front that lets in a ton of light. That hole is called the aperture and the bigger it is, the better your photos in dark environments will be. So you will want something that does f/1.8 or f/1.4 (lower f-stop number = bigger hole = more light). This can also help you get a lot of cool background blur.

A tripod will help get you longer exposures without any blur from camera shake. Especially good for landscape photos.

And a flash is for taking photos of pets and other moving subjects when you are indoors and don't have a lot of light. A flash is an absolute game changer for indoor photos.

HOWEVER, never point it directly at your subject.

Point it at a large white ceiling or wall. The flash happens so fast that it freezes motion. It is how I got all of my indoor photos of Otis.

Here he was playing and being rambunctious and he is not blurry.

I used no special settings. I just stuck on a flash and pointed it at the ceiling and suddenly sheep are sticking to things.

Oh, and one other huge benefit of using a flash... you can take much better photos of pets with dark fur. So if you have a cute little void in your home, a flash can help you capture detail in their fur.

Just lift the shadow slider in your image editor and that beautiful fur will reveal itself.

If you get an ETTL or TTL flash, it will output the correct amount of light automatically. You can literally just put your camera in automatic mode, aim the flash at the ceiling, and press the shutter button.

Before I talk about recommendations I want to make one thing very clear.

GETTING A GIANT CAMERA WILL NOT AUTOMATICALLY GIVE YOU BETTER PHOTOS.

Aside from my flash aimed at the ceiling trick, a big boy camera is not a magic solution for better photos. In some cases, you might actually get *worse* photos than your smartphone. You need to learn the basic fundamentals of photography and you also need to learn some basic photo editing skills.

Smartphones employ powerful algorithms and computational processes to make every photo you take look as good as possible.

ILCs say, "Here is your RAW data, you figure out the rest."

You don't have to become an expert, but if you watch this free 6 hour photography course, that will ensure you have the knowledge needed to improve your photos.

Okay, let's get into the nitty gritty of buying a nice new old ILC.

If you are on a tight budget and cannot afford a fancy mirrorless camera, I would highly suggest a used DSLR. You can get them for very reasonable prices. And unlike just about every other modern technological gadget, cameras and lenses are built to last for decades. So I have no qualms about recommending used photography gear.

However, I do highly recommend using either KEH or MPB, as they have a long trial period and decent customer service. If something goes awry with your used gear, KEH has a 180 day warranty and MPB has a 6 month warranty. So there is much less of a risk than eBay or Facebook Marketplace. You pay a bit of overhead, but the piece of mind is worth it.

Before I start my recommendations I want to quickly explain the difference between APS-C and Full Frame camera bodies. (For brevity's sake I am going to omit Micro Four Thirds bodies as they are not typically geared toward beginner photography.)

APS-C has a "crop" sensor. It is a bit smaller than full frame and does not perform as well in low light (more noise). However these bodies are cheaper and can still produce great photos. You can see above the sensor is still significantly larger than a smartphone. APS-C adds a 1.5x zoom to all lenses. This can be annoying in small spaces but advantageous for outdoor photography like wildlife and sports. You can use full frame lenses on a crop sensor body (within the same brand). APS-C lenses are usually cheaper but of lower quality.

Full frame has a larger sensor that will give you less noise in low light. It is also much easier to get background blur. Full frame also allows you to work in more cramped spaces. You *cannot* use APS-C lenses on a full frame body. However, the lenses meant for full frame cameras tend to be better quality in general.

If you can save up a little more and get a full frame body, I would recommend it. These bodies used to be geared more toward professional use, but since mirrorless cameras became popular, used full frame DSLRs have become much more accessible to those on a budget. Full frame cameras make it easier to get better results in challenging circumstances. And challenging conditions are really the main area where ILCs still kick a smartphone's ass.

For tight budgets I would recommend the following...

Canon or Nikon APS-C DSLR camera body

50mm f/1.8 lens (Nifty Fifty)

18-55mm APS-C lens (good for landscapes and portraits)

Yongnuo ETTL Flash

There are lenses called "superzooms" which can go from (as an example) 18-200mm or 70-300mm and other crazy focal lengths. That sounds fantastic and very versatile... but these are usually utter shite. You may be tempted to get one of these lenses hoping it can do everything you need, but there are no free lunches in lens land. Unless you are spending many thousands of dollars, the wider the focal range, the worse the lens will be.

When you stick to the 18-55mm range, you can be assured the images will be decent. And if you find yourself really needing a telephoto lens, you can save up and add it to your collection later on. The 18-55 will give you wide angle for landscapes all the way to slightly telephoto for portraits and moderately close wildlife. This lens cannot be used indoors or at night without a flash. Which is why I recommend the Nifty Fifty for that purpose. $100 for a moderately sharp low light lens is a no brainer.

Also, stick to Canon, Nikon, Sigma, or Tamron lenses. You can try exotic 3rd party lens brands when you know more what you are doing. And always make sure the lens has autofocus before buying.

It's hard to give you exact recommendations as used items are not reliably in stock. So I'm going to show you an example of the above, but I am not necessarily saying you should buy this *exact* combination. You might be able to get something similar with Nikon as well.

Canon 60D APS-C DSLR

50mm f/1.8 lens

Canon 18-55mm APS-C lens (EF-S mount)

Yongnuo TTL Flash

(I wouldn't recommend getting a used flash, as the Yongnuo is already a great price and you can't know if someone used the flash 100,000 times or 20 times.)

Altogether that is about $500. You can start with the 60D and the 50mm Nifty Fifty for $330 and add on the other two items later on.

My recommended full frame setup...

Full frame Canon or Nikon DSLR body

50mm f/1.8 lens (same as before)

24-70mm full frame zoom lens (full frame equivalent to 18-55mm)

ETTL Yongnuo flash (same as before)

And an example from KEH might be...

Canon 6D Full Frame DSLR

Canon 50mm f/1.8 Lens

Sigma 24-70mm Full Frame Zoom lens (EF mount)

Yonguo ETTL Flash

And that would be about $800 total.

Again, you can start with just the camera and 50mm lens and add the other items later. So invest $500 initially and go from there.

And just to give a Nikon example as well...

Nikon D600 Full Frame DSLR

Nikon 50mm f/1.8 Lens

Tamron 24-70mm

Yonguo ETTL Flash (Nikon version)

I highly recommend researching any camera body and lens before purchase. I can vouch for the items above, but you should definitely check out some YouTube videos before buying.

All of the stuff on KEH and MBP is marked down in price for aesthetic reasons. They do test everything to make sure it is functional. If you care if the camera or lens looks pristine, it will cost a little extra. But if you don't mind if it is beat to hell, you can save some money. Ugly or not, you will get the same photos out of the gear. As I said, photography stuff is built to last for a long time. Almost all repairs are due to user damage and not defects. And usually defects manifest when the product is brand new.

Oh, I forgot about the tripod!

Amazon's $35 tripod is surprisingly decent. It even got a good review on a very picky tripod review site. I recommend starting with this and then upgrading when you know more what you need out of a tripod.

Amazon 60 inch Tripod

I worry I'm leaving out a lot of important information, but hopefully I can expand in the other post I am working on.

That said, if anyone is thinking of buying a camera and you are not sure about the items you selected, please feel free to message me and I will help you assess your choices. Please make sure you include a budget range when asking for buying advice.

I hope that helps. I will try to finish the more in depth post soon. And it will include tips for how to get better photos from your smartphone if you cannot afford an ILC at the moment.

Further resources...

Recipe for Landscape Photos Froggie's Encyclopedia of Lens Terms

[adaginy]

The Big Guide to Humans: Home Planet

Humans come from a small, rocky planet, called Terra or Earth or some other translation of "dirt," where they lived on the land surface despite the planet being mostly covered (area and volume) by water. They do, however, measure temperature in a scale based approximately on the freezing and boiling points of water (at their average atmospheric pressure), set to 0 and 100. As with "years" (see lifespan and development), your local human can probably tell you the conversion to local measurements, if the knowledge is not in your local storage and the numbers are not being converted automatically by your translation dock. The planet's rotational axis is tilted relative to its orbital plane, resulting in "seasons," a predictable progression of local temperatures between local lows to local highs and back over the course of an orbit, despite its nearly round trajectory. This is in addition to the smaller temperature changes of the day/night cycle. Terran weather temperatures range from -90, below the freezing point of radon, to 60, nearly the boiling point of bromine, though humans mostly live where the weather over the course of a year ranges between -20 to 45.

Humans infamously breathe oxygen, but Terra's atmosphere is actually mostly nitrogen. The 23% oxygen concentration is enough for fires to sustain easily, assuming fuel and initial ignition, but low enough that fires smother nearly immediately when fully covered. Terra's rotation and heat from Sol combine to cause a predictable pattern of convection known as prevailing winds. Winds are often strong enough to move light objects without causing damage, not uncommonly strong enough to make it difficult for humans to move against it, or stronger, and sometimes strong enough to cause damage to buildings. This is in addition to regional threats of "extreme" winds, most notably tornadoes (fast-moving, localized funnels of winds strong enough rip buildings apart and fling heavy objects) and cyclones (weaker than a tornado, but traveling slowly and raining so copiously that shelters are also damaged by water).

Having such copious rain that buildings are damaged can happen outside of a cyclone, as well. While humans can swim surprisingly well for a non-liquid-dwelling species, this water has usually picked up so many contaminants that it is capable of overwhelming a human's immune system if it enters their body via their mouth or damaged skin.

Alternately, little or no water may fall on an area that does not usually experience water scarcity. The resulting "drought" kills plants and animals that cannot be moved. This is less predictable, but takes multiple years to come into effect. A vegetated area facing drought, however, is at particular risk for a wild fire, a fire that becomes too large and fast-moving to be smothered. Areas as big as residential ships can burned before the fire runs out of fuel or is able to be drenched.

Terra's planetary surface is made up of several pieces of "crust" floating on top of its liquid center. At the edges of these pieces, or at cracks in the pieces, huge pieces of crust can be forced upward or buckle under the pressure. Done slowly, so slowly no one notices, this produces mountains. Done quickly, it produces "earth quakes." Some earth quakes can only be sensed by sensors, but others cause buildings to shake apart. Humans know where these edges are and, instead of not building there, they design buildings that are able to resist being shaken. If the locus of the shaking is near or under the ocean, it can cause a fast-moving, towering wave called a "tsunami." An average tsunami is capable of obliterating buildings when it reaches shore, and then sucking any survivors into the ocean when it recedes (with strength far past even the best human swimmers). As with earth quakes, humans design buildings to survive being struck by this wall of water. The same edges and cracks also produce volcanoes, places where the earth's liquid center oozes or bursts out of the ground. This liquid will be at temperatures of 700 or more, above the melting temperature of radium and on past the the melting temperature of gold. It can cause fires when it touches things in addition to being so heavy and/or voluminous that it covers items in its path. Humans generally do not build very close to volcanoes that are frequently or explosively active. However, if a volcano is only likely to erupt once or twice within a human lifespan, or tends to ooze rather than burst, they will simply use several sensors to know when it will happen so they can get out of the way. Because they all originate in the same geological source, it is common to have two of these crack-based issues at once and not unusual to have all three.

Sometimes, rain falls in tiny frozen pieces, covering the ground in a layer of ice chips. Sometimes it falls in large rocks of ice, breaking and shattering what it strikes. Sometimes the temperature is anomalously hot or cold in places where the wildlife and human dwellings are not adapted to those temperatures. Sometimes massive sparks of electricity shoot from the sky to the ground. Sometimes the side of a mountain — or the ice chips piled on the side of the mountain — will fall off and slide down, burying and crushing everything in the way. Sometimes erosion under the surface will cause the surface to give way, leaving a hole in the ground big enough to swallow a person or a building. Sometimes the liquid inside Terra doesn't burst through the surface, but super-heats water until it does. While none of these features are unique to Terra, even among inhabited planets, it is uncommon for an inhabited planet to have so many of these features and it is nearly unique among humans to choose to live in afflicted areas. It can be helpful to understand, when one is wondering why humans and other life from their planet are "like that," that life only evolved on Terra once* and then experienced a burst of population up to and beyond local carrying capacities. Every species, including the plants, shares a common ancestor, and every creature that was ever born (hatched, sprouted, divided, etc) faced immediate competition from other, similar creatures. The ability to run faster, eat weirder, live hardier, spread farther provided an immediate benefit. Furthermore, in addition to the horrors described in this chapter of this guide, in Terra's planetary history there are multiple near-extinction-level events — new chemosynthetic species producing upheavals in the atmospheric gas balance, an asteroid strike, massive volcanic eruptions choking the air with ash and blocking energy from Sol — that further pressed evolution. Terra, truly, has earned its reputation as a death world — but less so for the life that has formed there.

*there is a long-standing idea that cephalopods may have originated separately, but this is really only taken seriously by the Chiparsen, who used to colonize via panspermia. While the Unified Government no longer accepts this as a valid territorial claim, the Chiparsen still hope to prove relation in order to put forth a diplomatic demand that Terrans remove cephalopods from their diet.

[amuromi]

★ ₊ ⊹ ⋆˙ ┈ 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 X ᶠ!ᴿᴱᴬᴰᴱᴿ

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ┈ 5.3k

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ┈ NSFW! mamaguro!reader, tipsy/drunk sex, unprotected sex, established relationship (married), pet names (mama), oral (f!receiving), postpartum/baby weight insecurities, implied safe word (not used, just mentioned)

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐀!𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ┈ According to Gege, Mamaguro was what got Toji on the straight and narrow for a little while. I wanted to explore the thought a bit.

✮ 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 & 𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍��𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓!! ✮

The familiar beeping of the keypad cuts through the droning static of the night, trilling crickets and passing cars, as Toji punches in the passcode. The little light seems to hesitate before flickering green and blinking its acquiescence to his presence. With a dull click of the motion sensor the entryway blooms with a stark wash of fluorescence bright enough to make him squint, eyes stinging after wasting hours in the dimness of some club. His pockets are lighter and his head is fuzzier for it, the taste of alcohol still burning on his tongue as he kicks off his shoes and pads deeper into the apartment. The entryway goes dark without him to trigger the automatic light and the hall offers no light to replace it but he’s familiar enough between these walls to find his way towards where he needs to be, stumbling only once as a toy finds its way underfoot, squeaking as he kicks it away. 

The room is illuminated by the faintest light leaking through the slightly parted curtains. The thread of faded yellow light slants across the bed, finding shapes in the darkness. The parted lips of his wife and the fluttering lashes of his son. He’s a tiny thing even after all these months–still a wisp of a person–but bigger than the last time Toji saw him. His face has started falling into place, fledgling features beginning to take shape. So strange that this little thing could look so much like him. Familiar black hair falls across his forehead like streaks of ink and his face is screwed up into a scowl even as he sleeps, legs kicking and arms twitching. 

Toji’s shadow cuts through the beam of light as he stands over his son in his nest of pillows–“to keep him from rolling,” he vaguely remembers you saying. Toji’s hands are rough, calloused and scarred, but he can’t deny the urge to touch his son. He presses a dimple into the baby’s cheek, and his skin is plump and warm like a dumpling beneath the pad of his father’s fingertip as he begins to stir in earnest at the disturbance. He stretches like a cat, grape-sized fists reaching out above his head before his eyes blink open with a yawn. Twin pairs of deep blue eyes meet in the darkness. Toji expects the tears that ensue as his son’s sleepy gaze lands on the hulking silhouette standing over the bed. At first it’s only the whisper of a sound, short garbled whimpers that slowly work up to a volume loud enough to wake you. The reaction is immediate, platitudes ready on your tongue even as your voice slurs with exhaustion. 

“What’s wrong, Megumi?” The raspy drawl of your voice is enough to soothe the baby’s tears as you sit up to hold him. It takes you so long to acknowledge Toji that he has to wonder if you’re purposefully ignoring him as you fret over the crying baby. A curt “welcome home” is all you can muster towards him as you dote on your son, shushing and cooing until his little whimpers turn into snores. The nursery is at the end of the hall–the farthest room from the front door at your insistence–and you shoulder past Toji to take Megumi to his room. He lets you, stepping aside because you’d never actually be able to move him even if you used all your strength. He’s as movable as a brick wall even if there’s a bit of alcohol numbing his reflexes and you know it. Knocking into him is as effective as a dog growling at a wolf. 

While you’re gone, he tosses the extra pillows to the floor along with his shirt. It’s laced with the scent of cigarettes and folded pride after spending the day whittling away his earnings on what were supposed to be sure things. Easy money made by taking low stakes bets that all unraveled one after the other. The money is wasted now and maybe he needs a fight, some kind of outlet, to expel the lingering frustration. He’s waiting for you at the foot of the bed when you return from putting Megumi down. Like a moth to a flame you come fluttering over to him looking to get burned. You stand between his spread legs and Toji can’t find it in himself to keep his hands off you. 

The tank top you wore to sleep is already rucked up your waist from sleeping and his thumbs find the exposed skin of your stomach, kneading against the new softness of your waist. It’s waning with each day as your body slowly reknits its shape after having Megumi but Toji finds himself somewhat enthralled with the lingering baby weight. You’re always quick to catch an attitude the moment he starts clinging around your extra weight. Smacking at his hands and telling him to leave you be like he cares if you’ve gotten bigger from carrying around his kid for nine months. It shows in your hips and your breasts, makes you look real good even when you moan about how long it’s taking for your body to “snap back.” It’s not like you’re a stretched rubber band to be shrinking once the tension’s gone but he keeps the thought to himself. It’s been made abundantly clear you’re not trying to hear his reassurances anytime you get to berating the body he loves so much. As if you aren’t everything he wants and more. 

“Missed you.” The words sting worse than the alcohol. It isn’t in him for Toji to be saying things like that often. But both of you already know he hates being away from you, and now Megumi, too. His hands tighten around your waist as you try to pull away, pulling you closer even as your feet drag until he can rest his face against the lingering roundness of your stomach. He got you like this. Everything about you in this moment, the tired drawl of your voice and the added softness of your body is all his doing and he’s damn proud of himself. His pretty little wife that suffers his erratic presence and pitiful parenting with little more than patient sighs. Sometimes you’re upset and he always deserves it but even when your face is lined taut with anger he can’t help but marvel about how lucky he is. Makes him want to straighten up, be better. Makes him want to do right by you like a proper husband should. You’ve given him all your time and energy. Your name and everything. It’s the least you deserve but here he is, face smushed happily into the soft warmth of your tummy as you card through his hair, waiting for an explanation for his absence. After all, he said he’d be home two days ago. 

Toji has been gone for nearly a month, having fed you some lies about freelancing on a construction contract a few prefectures over. It’s something simple, easy to swallow. Because he can’t very well tell you about what it is he really does to keep a roof over your head. It’s selfish, lying to you the way he does, but Toji has never claimed to be a particularly altruistic man. He’s selfish and greedy. Doesn’t want anything bad coming near his girl, tainting the charitable image of him she has in her mind. If you wise up too much you might up and leave him and then where would he be? Nah, he’ll keep telling you he’s out doing grunt work, manual labor. The type of strenuous work that pays well because you don’t need to know what it is the hands he touches you and your son with are truly capable of. 

“You mad at me?” He asks when you take too long to answer him. It’s not meant to sound so teasing, so mocking, but Toji is sardonic by nature and his tongue is plied with too many shots. It makes him sound like he’s trying to rile you up. And maybe he is. Hadn’t that been his original intention before you came back to him all soft and sweet, looking so perfectly tired. He shouldn’t push you but he wants to. It’s clear you’re exhausted but he’s wide awake and pumped full of liquor and audacity. It curls around him like armor, makes him want to poke and prod until you stoop to his level and entertain his excess energy. He needs something to help him work through the high of coming home to you. His teeth find a soft spot to land above your navel and you yelp out a sharp quit it! before smacking the back of his head as his tongue tastes the place his teeth had been. 

“What do I have to be mad about?” Comes your pragmatic answer as your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging at the roots to get his mouth away from you. It doesn’t work. He’s stronger than you, won’t move unless he wants to and what reason would he ever have to leave the soft warmth of your body? You smell so good in a way you probably hate. There’s no trace of perfume on your skin. No lingering scent of soap or detergent. You smell wholly like yourself. Like sweat and something sweet and it makes him want to taste every inch of your skin. You squirm as Toji pushes your shirt higher until it’s tucked up under the swollen weight of your breasts heavy with milk. 

“Nothin’.” Toji decides even though he’s sure there’s a thousand things you could be mad at him for. He was gone two days longer than he said he’d be and wasted one of those days blowing his money on spoiled bets. He was late and still had the audacity to come home far past midnight, in those dark hours that linger just before sunrise, after you’ve been dealing with a newborn all day. Yeah, you should be mad, but he’s glad you’re not. When he looks up there’s the faintest hint of annoyance lingering on your face, pinched between your brows and weighing at the counters of your mouth. It’s a pretty look on you as his eyes begin to adjust to the muted darkness. Mussed hair, tired bruises under your eyes, and disheveled clothes. It’s a look only he gets to see because you’d never leave the house looking like you’ve just gotten into a fight. But fuck if you don’t make it look so good. 

It’s enough to make Toji smile. Something mean and wanting as he stands to get in your face. He can hear it in your voice, that aloof attitude that you get whenever he’s in one of his moods. You’re trying your hardest not to rise to his prodding and it’s almost annoying how fucking perfect you are. The kind of woman that only exists in movies. The kind of woman that deserves more than him. But Toji won’t let anyone else have you. He made that decision a while ago. Marriage and a baby. A ball and chain to tether you to him. He watches the realization dawn on your face as he presses in until you’re nose to nose, a nervous “not tonight, Toji” whispering over his lips as you try to pull away from him again. He wants it to be tonight. And every night after. How can you be so perfect and expect him not to be panting after you like a dog every second of the day?

“Let me do it,” he asks, voice toeing the line of begging as his hands find your waist again. “Let me have it, mama.” Toji loves the way you squirm and pout and look away from him whenever he calls you that, like you aren’t the mother of his child. He kisses the corner of your mouth, a habit he picked up from you always pressing sweet little kisses to his scar. You fluster and shake your head, trying to pull out of his arms. He lets you just to see what you’ll do, frowning when you tug your shirt down over your stomach and go to lay back down. He watches you settle on top of the sheets, curling up on yourself like he won’t be able to see you if you make yourself small enough. Your breath comes too quickly for you to be sleeping, body lined with too much tension as you wrap yourself around his pillow like he’s not standing right here for you. His fingers wrap around your ankle, pulling you loose from the ball you’ve curled yourself into. 

“The fuck are you hiding for?” Toji snaps as you try to fix your top after his pulling rolled it up your back again. He hears you whine his name, small and petulant like you have something to be embarrassed of. It takes a moment for the realization to click into place, for Toji to fully accept the idea that his pretty little wife might not be feeling so pretty after all. Toji isn’t big on manners, doesn’t wanna stoop to saying please and begging for what he wants but he just might with the way you’re acting. It’s clear you want it. He can tell by the way you’re rubbing your thighs together. You want it just as bad as he does and yet here you are, covering yourself with the sheets and murmuring about not yet. Toji’ll be the first to admit he hadn’t paid much attention to anything the doctors were going on about when you were laid up in the hospital, sweating and crying as you held Megumi for the first time, but he does vaguely remember being advised against sex for awhile. 

“Does it still hurt, mama?” He asks because he can’t be too sure you’ve fully healed from the ordeal of pushing a little person out of your body. When you shake your head and throw your arms over your eyes, Toji frowns. He’s been gone for three and a half weeks, hasn’t fucked you in just as many months, and yet here you are mumbling over excuses to keep your clothes on. Too tired, too late, Megumi might wake up again. As if he won’t do all the work to make you feel good. 

Toji can’t help but scoff. “What are you on about?” 

As if he hasn’t answered calls while he’s balls deep inside you. If his son wakes up he’ll go see what he needs and come back to finish what he started. You don’t even need to move. All you gotta do is lay back and spread your legs while he takes care of the rest. His fingers hook into the elastic of your waistband, keen on pulling those baggy pants off. He knows what to expect. Your thighs got thicker to match the new weight of your hips. He’s expecting the plushness as he wrestles the pants off your legs even as you weakly bat at his hands and whine about him waiting a minute. All it earns you is another bite to the softness of your thigh because why would he wait even a second more after he’s already waited this long. 

He’s nearly delirious with desire. There’s no more time for waiting and your pitiful little protests aren’t doing much to convince him that you actually want him to stop. You need this. Need your man to bully you out of your clothes and prove how much he’s missed seeing your body because clearly Toji’s words aren’t enough to get it through your thick skull just how gorgeous he thinks his wife is. But fuck do you look beautiful even in the darkness. He spares a second to turn on the bedside light, ignoring your feeble attempts at protest as the dim light washes over you. He watches you try to roll away, grasping at the sheets to cocoon yourself out of sight. 

“Stop fucking runnin’, mama. Lemme see my girl. Already said I missed you.” Toji groans as he grabs you by the waist, reveling in the way you squeak as he moves you where he wants. Little thing always thinking you can run from him like he won’t pull you back every time. He’s greedy, wants to keep you to himself. You’re his. His wife, mother of his son. His, his, his. And yet you’re acting like he’s exaggerating how desperately he wants you after so long. Maybe it’s the alcohol turning him mean, but he wants to prove himself beyond a shadow of a doubt in your mind. It’s all he ever wants. To prove himself worthy. He knows he not but it’s the least he can do to pretend that one day he might be. You just have to let him. 

He takes pity on you as you squirm, grasping for the edge of the sheets Toji’s already tossed out of reach. 

“S’okay, mama. I got you.” His hands pet over your hips, fingers playing at the edge of your panties. He wants them off of you, wants to get his mouth on your cunt ’cause he can clearly see the wet spot seeping between your legs. You’ve always loved how big he is, how easy it is for Toji to move you how he wants, and yet here you are trying to play at being bashful like you don’t want his head between your legs. 

“Don’t be gross,” you whine as he works you out of your panties and brings them up to his nose. Toji doesn’t miss the way you lift your hips to help. All this huffing and puffing when you want it just as bad. It makes him want to be nastier just to get under your skin, and just like he wants you to, you whine something about him being such a nasty weirdo as he tongues at the wet spot your pussy has left in your panties. The taste has his cock swelling in his pants, twitching to be inside you after months of only using his hand. It’s nearly painful the way his dick throbs at the sight of you spread underneath him. Wet and neglected as you try to tug your shirt down over your lap. Fuck, he’s glad he married you because Toji can’t stomach the thought of another man ever being in his place and getting to see you just like this. He hears the sound of your hand smacking his shoulder more than he feels it as you try to get him from between your legs. It doesn’t work, just makes him nip at your thigh again as he shoulders your legs apart and pushes your stretched shirt out of his way. 

Toji isn’t doing it for you when his tongue licks a broad stroke up your pussy but you sigh like he is before thinking better of it and going back to pulling at his hair, trying to get him from between your legs like anything could part him from your fat little cunt. The feeling prickles over his scalp and sings down his spine in a way that has his hips grinding against the bed. He’s not worried about you as he sucks your clit into his greedy mouth, tongue tracing the shape of his name over the sensitive bud. It’s his, you’re all his. 

He can barely hear you whining over the sound of how wet your cunt is in his mouth. “Toji, get up. M’gonna squish you, stop it!” You’re not saying anything important and he tightens your legs around his head, trying to drown in the warmth of your thighs smothering him. When you don’t get your way he feels the hand not gripping his hair pressing against his shoulder. Not trying to move him, but using his immovable nature to your advantage as you try to scoot up the bed. He doesn’t care until you get far enough that his mouth pops off your cunt. There’s a shining mess of spit and arousal strung between the two of you and he’s eager to make you even messier. An arm is tossed over your wiggling hips, heavy as a steel beam to keep you from running from his mouth again. 

“Stop movin’, lemme eat in peace.” He groans as his nose nuzzles against your clit while he tongues at your fluttering hole. His eyes watch you over the soft curve of your tummy. Your eyes are wet with tears as you whimper over the feeling of his hot tongue on your pussy. You’ve been suffering just as much as he has but you’re still acting like you don’t want him to fucking ruin you, like you don’t deserve it. You do. Of course, you do. Everything and more. He feels you relax into it, hand loosening to softer tugs in his hair as your lashes flutter and lips part. This is how he likes you, soft and happy. Quiet little moans filling the room as he makes a mess between your legs. He can feel you getting close as your pussy drools down his chin. Your thighs are tensing around his head, shaking in the way they always do when you’re close to cumming. It makes him laugh, and the deep sound sings through your pussy. It’s enough to push you over the edge. 

Finally, finally, you drop the shy act and pull his mouth closer, hips grinding against his face like you’re trying to mark him up with your wetness. He can feel it glossing over his cheeks and chin, smell it as he watches you ride his face. Two fingers find their way inside your fluttering walls, hooking against that sweet spot until you squeal and he gets to hush you like that’s not exactly what he wanted to hear. Because weren’t you the one worried about waking the baby? Now listen to you. This is what he wanted and you were being all stubborn acting like he couldn’t have it. It’s not until you’re running again that he eases up. He could keep going, keep eating you until you’re all out sobbing and shoving at him to get his greedy mouth and thick fingers away from your pussy, but he’ll be nice just this once. Toji sits back on his knees and watches you cringe at the sound his fingers make as they slip out of your soaked cunt. Webs of your arousal cling between his fingers and he makes a show of dragging his tongue between them like he’s still eating you out. 

“Felt good, huh?” He knows it did. You made such a big mess and you’re still dripping onto the sheets. Makes him eager to get you on his dick. It’s still straining in his pants, painfully hard from tasting you and hearing all your little noise. He gets up just long enough to strip off his pants, ignoring the mess he’s made just from getting his head between your legs. Toji eyes your shirt, still pulled defiantly low. 

“Take it off.” You grab at the hem, fiddling with nervous fingers. “Take it off or I’ll rip it off.” He amends. You mumble something that sounds like “don’t wanna” as you cling to the fabric like it’ll keep him off you. 

Toji scoffs, “You know what to say if you don’t want to.” He reminds you as he grabs at the collar of your shirt. It’s damp with sweat as is the rest of your body. You look shimmery in the low light, eyes glittering with tears as he works you out of that last piece of clothing with a quick jerk of his arms. The shirt doesn’t put up a fight, ripping like paper so he can shove it away from your chest. Your body comes spilling out without the tight fabric clinging to you. Tits swollen with milk and tummy still holding on to that last bit of baby weight. You look like a mother and it makes his balls tighten. His mama, his girl. He got you like this and fuck if he isn’t gonna enjoy it while it lasts. He’ll leave your tits alone only ’cause you’ve been complaining–and he’s happy to listen–about how sore breastfeeding is making you. You’ve gone up a couple cup sizes and your tits look gorgeous but he won’t bother them if it’ll hurt you. 

“Toji.” You’re pouting. He can hear it in your voice and see it in the way you’re squirming as he kneels over you, fisting his cock as he stares at your body. 

“What?” Right about now he doesn’t really care about what you’re whining about unless you’re gonna start begging for his cock. His free hand finds your waist again, kneading at the softness he finds there. So plush and warm. Fucking you like this is gonna feel like he’s fucking a cloud. He hears you muttering about being too big and tells you to shut up. 

“Don’t be fucking dumb. Acting like it’s the end of the world. Shut up and let me fuck you.” Usually he’d try to be more tactful with his words. It’s only right that you get to complain about how your body changed, but right now he really doesn’t want to hear it. You’re talking down on the body that’s driving him insane like you can’t see his cock twitching at the sight of you sprawled out beneath him. Toji tosses your thighs over his, pulling you up into the cradle of his lap, remembering only vaguely to shove a pillow under your back. You cover your face as he stares at your pussy, like he didn’t just get real up close and personal when he had her in his mouth. She’s still drooling real pretty for him as he ruts against you, wetting his dick with the mess you’re making. He feels your thighs jump every time the head of his cock catches against your clit. He pulls back the hood so he can really love on it, listening to the way you choke on your breath as he grinds over the sensitive little bud. 

“Gonna let me inside, mama?” Toji asks and you nod eagerly, hips bucking in his lap. Fuck. You’re cute when you stop worrying so damn much. Acting like he isn’t dying to get his dick inside you. He can feel you clenching as he presses in, pussy gripping him so good as he drags you down on his cock. You take it so well. Inch by inch you let him inside until you’ve swallowed him down to the base, already wetting his hips with your excitement. The clenching heat is enough to stun him and Toji has to hold you still with clenched teeth to keep you from milking him to the edge too soon. You’re already trying to ride him with little bucks of your hips, hiding a smile behind your hands as you lay back against the pillows and act like you weren’t just trying to keep him off you. 

“Not so shy now, huh?” Toji asks, squeezing at your thighs as he pulls back just to fill you up again with another deep stroke. You make a pretty little noise as he bottoms out, wet lips parting around a moan even as you try to catch it with your shaky hands. He’s got you good. You’re making enough noise for the both of you as Toji stirs up your insides, keeping you locked on his dick even when it starts to get too much for you. He can feel you trying to squirm away when he gets too deep inside you, hands grabbing at his wrists, trying to pry him off you. He’s mean about fucking you now, thumb rubbing quick circles on your clit as you wail about it being too much. 

“S’not enough if you don’t cum, mama. Lemme feel it.” You’re already clenching so tight around him, pussy milking his cock like you want another baby. He’s lucky you’re on the pill because the way your body is rippling with every thrust is getting him weak. There’s no way he’d be able to pull out even if he can barely handle the one kid he’s already got. It feels too good to stop even when you’re trying to get away from the feeling of him spreading you open. 

Toji can’t help but laugh between his panting. “This is your dick, mama, stop running from it.” 

“Yeah, it’s mine.” You agree, tongue getting loose the closer you get to cumming. “Want it. Want you.” He can feel you tightening up as you babble about him being yours. Your thighs start to shake again, trying to knock shut even with his legs keeping you nice and open for him. 

“Get me wet, mama. I know you want to.” You cum hard, clit twitching under his thumb as you cream on his dick, getting him all sticky with your cum. Selfish as he is, Toji keeps you on his dick for a little while longer. Milking himself dry inside you while he keeps a quick pace on your clit. You’re crying and wailing–real loud like you don’t have a kid and neighbors–by the time he eases up on you. Your pussy is flushed and swollen around his cock when he pulls out. His dick is shiny with wetness, dragging out a mess with his softening cock. You’re leaking his cum in a frothy mess onto the sheets, pussy hot and twitching from how hard he fucked you. Toji can’t help but thumb through the mess, smearing the mix of your releases over your puffy pussy and circling your clit just to hear you whine about it being too much. So fucking pretty and all his. 

His hands rub at your thighs as he lets you off his lap, trying to work the soreness from your muscles while you catch your breath. He watches you relax as the fatigue slowly creeps back in. He kept you up far longer than he should’ve but it was worth it for the way you seem so content to let him rub on you. An hour ago you would’ve been batting his hands off of you and cowering like you didn’t want him to see you. Now you’re content to stretch out across the bed and let him squeeze anywhere he pleases. This is what he prefers. It’s his body you were berating anyway. You belong to him. You’re not allowed to act shy and be mean like he won’t remind you just how much you’re worth. He thinks about getting his mouth on you again as he watches you cuddle back up to his pillow and decides you won’t mind too much. He can taste himself leaking out of your pussy as he drags his tongue through your folds. You whine and shift but the hand you slip into his hair is gentle, letting him have his fun as long as he goes slow. He only parts from you when a sharp cry crackles through the speaker of the baby monitor. 

“I got him.” Toji says easily. You’re barely awake and it’s the least he can do after being gone for so long. “Go pee.” He reminds you as he slips back into his pants. You mumble something that might be an “okay” as he goes to see what Megumi needs. The little spud is squirming in his crib, snotting and crying like he needs something but he quiets the second Toji picks him up. He doesn’t want his bottle, doesn’t need to be changed, he’s just making noise ’cause he woke up wanting attention. Toji is content to give it to him, walking around the nursery until Megumi falls asleep again. Toji holds him a little while longer, basking in the sweet scent that seems to cling to him. Like milk and lotion as he rests a hand on his son’s back. When he gets back to bed where you’ve already changed and fallen back to sleep, Toji considers a career change. 

[loopstagirl]

Midnight Snack

Just a bit of brotherly fluff for @flashfictionfridayofficial's prompt this week.

Word count: 1000

Scott’s senses were tingling.

With a groan, he threw back the covers and rolled from bed. There was no point trying to go back to sleep now. His brothers always mocked him for his ability to just know when something was wrong, but that didn’t stop them from listening to those same instincts when it suited them.

This wasn’t a collapsing building sort of wrong, though. It was much closer to home.

He padded out of his room on silent feet, not pausing to grab a top. The island was hotter than usual, and he welcomed any breeze he could find.

He pushed open Virgil’s door. A deep snore was his only hint there was someone in the bed. Despite the heatwave, Virgil was still buried under his covers, just the top of his head poking out. Smiling, Scott retreated and shut the door.

Alan was the opposite. Limbs splayed in all directions and lying on top of the covers. His head was thrown back, mouth open, but he, too, was fast asleep. Scott couldn’t resist watching the rise and fall of his chest for a few moments, finding it soothing. But it wasn’t Alan who needed him.

Habit made him open John’s door. Of course, the room was empty. Hovering in the doorway, he touched his watch, sending the faintest vibration up to space. If John was awake, he’d answer. If not, he wouldn’t feel it.

Nothing. His space-bound brother was also lot in dreams, although Scott prayed they were good ones after the few days they’d had.

He didn’t bother checking Gordon’s room. He didn’t need to now he knew the other three were resting. Instead, he stole downstairs, glancing into the lounge as he did so. The automatic lights were off around the pool: Gordon wasn’t out there, either. However sneaky he tried to be, he couldn’t get around the sensors – which was the exact reason their dad had installed them in the first place.

There was a light on, however. It wasn’t really a surprise it was coming from the kitchen. Scott nudged open the door, blinking in the soft glow. Gordon was sat on a bar stool, head resting in his hands, slumped against the table. He didn’t give any sign that he’d heard his big brother, but Scott knew he had. It was harder to sneak up on Gordon than him – and that was saying something.

He slipped onto the seat opposite, waiting. He didn’t say anything, knew he didn’t have to. It took a good ten minutes before Gordon lifted his head. He looked exhausted, red-rimmed eyes and dark bags betraying how much sleep he hadn’t been getting. But more than that, he looked miserable.

“Tell me,” Scott said softly. His tone was a mixture of command and plea, knowing Gordon needed to let whatever it was off his chest.

“It’s just…” Gordon breathed deeply for a few moments. But then he pushed himself into a more upright position and looked Scott in the eye. “So many rescues, lately. Do we even make a difference?”

Scott smiled gently. Gordon was always the lightest of sleepers out of all of them, and no doubt the heat had been keeping him up despite the tiredness caused by the rescues. But while exhaustion may have given voice to his words, it hadn’t planted that thought. Who knew how long this had been bugging Gordon?

“168,” Scott said. Gordon blinked.

“Huh?”

“168 people. That’s how many we’ve had contact with over the last two weeks. Sure, some of them would’ve been fine without us. But you know a lot wouldn’t have been. Especially those fires.”

“168,” Gordon repeated softly. “That’s how many we’ve-,” he trailed off, as if saying it was just too big.

Scott nodded. “Saved, yes. And 38 were you alone when you got that trawler to safety.”

“Well, Virgil-,”

“Gave you a lift there, and that was it. You saved those people, Gordon. You let them go home to their families and loved ones that night. Why don’t you ask them if we make a difference?”

Gordon managed a weak smile. But a shadow was shifting in his eyes. This wouldn’t be the end of it: the next hard spell would bring those same doubts back, for Gordon, or any of the others. But for now, Scott hoped that nightmare had been put to rest for the time being.

He stood up. Gordon looked surprised.

“That’s it? You’re going?”

“While my bed is calling me, no,” Scott said. He crossed the room, grabbing a couple of spoons before opening the freezer. The kitchen tiles were bliss on his bare feet. “There’s something we both need more than sleep right now.”

He heard Gordon shift behind him as he rummaged to the back.

“I’m not in the mood for a beer.”

Scott shot a scathing look over his shoulder. “Since when do we keep beer in the freezer?”

He pulled out his prize, dumping it on the table between them and passing over a spoon. Gordon’s eyes lit up.

“Chocco-chunk,” he half-moaned. “I thought Al had eaten it all.”

Scott winked. “I hid it the last time he was raiding the freezer.”

It was already half eaten. Gordon wasn’t the first to need an emergency sweet treat lately, and Virgil had helped him make a good dent in the ice cream last week.

As Gordon attacked it, smacking his lips in delight at the ice-cold sensation, Scott smiled and prised some out for himself. He wasn’t generally a big ice-cream eater – that was John – but there was something about a middle of the night crisis session where it was the only thing that would do.

As the coldness melted on his tongue and he felt his entire body temperature drop, Scott relaxed. Gordon’s shoulders had softened, his posture had straightened, and the look in his eye gave away Scott wouldn’t be getting much more if he didn’t hurry up.

In other words, back to normal.

[cherrsnut]

Hostage - Chapter 3

Finnick Odair x Healer!Reader

Summary: Up until now, your life has been a solitary one. Being the sole owner of an herbal shop, and apothecary to many fishermen who have been injured. Just when your life seemed to follow the routine you were so used to, your life turns a 360 when you’re suddenly taken away for the 67th Annual Hunger Games. This turn of events forces you to accept the idea the Grim Reaper is stalking close behind you, faster than you had hoped for. 

Tags: Extremely Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Angst, Typical THG Violence, Forced Prostitution, Forced Lab Rat, Injury, Mental Health Deterioration, Psychological/Physical Torture, Death, Alcohol/Drug Consumption, Medical Malpractice, Fluff (bc they deserve it).

Word Count: 6k

Previous // Next

Chapter 3

The shimmering light of the moon reflected the pine trees of a never-ending forest. It had been a while since you’d left the sight of the sea, and with that so did the comfort of your homeland. 

You weren’t sure just how deep into the night you were, the only indicator was the high position of the crescent moon,  and you guessed it was late. 

You were at the salon, or at least the replica of a salon inside the car of a traveling train. It was as quiet as the night offered. You tried to mimic the silent stillness from the moon, all because it wasn’t in your best interest in waking up the rest.

The lights had turned on automatically, probably with some sort of motion sensor that detected your sneaky movements. It startled you, it was one of those things you got easily used throught the sunny day, not so much during the night.

You thought of turning around, worried that someone took notice of your presence, but your stubbornly nature breathed in your ear to keep going, and it embarrassed you the idea of returning back to your room, after all the self convincing through the pillow, so you were committed on what you had set out to do.

The living area was big. It connected all three rooms, the kitchen, that adopted a smaller size than in a regular home; next to it was the dining room, which consisted of a large wooden table accompanied by the chairs of the same material and colour; and then a normal salon, with its shelves and books, comfortable couches and armchairs, with the TV, the one you had been seeing earlier that day. You could only but respect the creator for its clever interior design.

Your eyes scanned the room you just walked in. You had seen the alcoholic beverage when you all were tracing a plan, or better said, attempted to trace a plan.

You had taken notice of its presence, the delightful idea you’d drink it later tied a noose around your mind, and you were content to announce the time has come for its consumption.  

With the distinct shape and light glass color, you knew it was white wine. The name of the brand was unfamiliar to you; but with its inky and sophisticated handwriting, one that could only belong to the signature of a fancy family. As soon as that thought crossed your mind, you knew the wine would live up to it exquisite taste you were forming in your mouth. 

That's why you wanted to try it in the first place. Just like the many delicious pastries you had tried merely hours ago. Once the succulent sweet taste bombarded your tongue, you knew the cook’s trained fingers had been blessed by the sin of gluttony itself. The strawberries at the very top was enough to make you believe it to be an addicting forbidden fruit, one you were glad 

you had been honored to try out.

Your mouth watered at the idea of what a good wine would be considered between the rich society. Would it be more bitter? more sweet? more refreshing? would it be thicker? 

There was only one way to find out.

You looked at the kitchenette, roaming your eyes all over surfaces of it. Silver colors shone throughout the metallic counters, filled with dusty spices, all collected from the unique lands of the Districts throughout Panem. They sat quietly on the kitchen counters, ready to be used at any given moment. 

You walked over there. You realized the light bulbs couldn’t cover the whole salon, and it was especially dark over the kitchen area. With the many corners and countertops, it casted many shadows to whatever hidden treasure lay there, and you hoped to find your drink beneath those lurking shadows.

And you did. Just like what you had thought, the sharp shadows camouflaged your drink. This piece of concealed alcohol though, was not on its own. It had been placed along other alcoholic beverages, from rose wines, to different versions of rums. All in carefully and delicately crystal bottled designs, with odd edges and shapes, but it still screamed for its exclusive taste. 

You went to grab onto your preferred wine choice, the white wine your mind lingered ever so slightly for the past hours, and grabbed a glass, which consisted  of rummaging through the kitchen metallic cabinets. 

And ice cubes, you nearly forgot about them. You thanked the Heaven’s when you found them, it was a definitely easier find, all silently still in the freezer.

You walked out with your self-proclaimed possessions, and plopped them down on a rather small table by a funny looking mustard couch. You had to start getting used to the colour explosion the people of the Capitol seemed to be overjoyed with.  

You went to grab the foggy beige bottle, a good indicator of the type of whine that laid inside. You went to fully seat of the couch, more like you willingly fell on top of it. Fingers quickly snacthed the bottle. And as you handled its throat, you heard something similar to light growls coming through the wall. All your connected joints stopped, in an attempt to make out what exactly what exactly were the noises. The tone was very much low, and all the words were scattered around into incomprehensible words. You pressed your ear further into the only thing separating the two of you.

By that point, you had realized the low sounds was a conversation that was happening on the other side, making the wall the only barrier between the two of you. A frustrating sound came out of your lips, you hated how the wall was thick enough to block out the anything coherent, and your nosy ears were left unsatisfied.

Two people talking, you were sure of that, and you also knew that they were slowly and creepingly getting closer to you.

But before you thought of your escape plan, an electrical-like sound resounded across the room just softly. It would have been very much unnoticed during the lively day, especially considering Scarlett’s exhausting hyper energy. But in the complete silence of the night, one that even the noise of the rattling rails were enhanced. It was the sound you could recognize now, a you knew you had just been exposed. The automatic doors just opened.

“Should we really wake them up?” spoke the large male, specks of the bronze you earlier described hidden under the artificial light, which made his hair take upon a more goldish colour. 

He looked on his back, waiting for his companion to respond to him. Scarlett joined him in the room, her long and white hair, so well taken care of that anyone could’ve confused it with a spider’s silk. 

“We don’t have much time to spare, we need to go over the schedule” Scarlett spoke. A stunned look came across your face when you noticed she still had the beautiful face paint across her sharp and witty features, even in the early hours of the night. 

“I understand that-“ Finnick crossed his eyes to follow Scarlett’s figure, but in doing so, a black shifting figure appeared in the corner of his eyes, and its presence asked for his attention. So when he looked over there, he found you on the couch, the bottle of wine still in your arms. 

He made an expression, and it that moment you knew exactly what the elders meant by the saying ‘Dear in Headlights’. His sea green eyes, a sea that upon stepping into the water you’d be welcomed by the underwater green nature, had gotten noticeably bigger. It was the initial shock for him had that him planted by the entrace, you knew he wasn’t expecting you. Even more less, you gripping onto dear life to the wine. 

Scarlett noticed the absence of Finnick’s sentence, so she looked back at him with a pointed stare wanting to know why he had stopped talking. His face suggested for her to look in the direction of what he was facing, and so she did. A big noticeable grin appeared on her radiant white teeth after encountering your very awaken form. 

“Wonderful, you’re awake!” she exclaimed, clapping twice in approval. You just stayed there, paralyzed. You had come out to drink the refinery of the Capitol, all sneakily as had you assumed it would be the same as in District 4. The usual, ‘you’re a minor’ kind of talk. It had been harder to digest the fiery feeling coursing through your bloodstream, to your knowledge, only alcohol could provide you. 

You weren’t the type to break the rules, always following what the law preached. But when it came down on taking more priority on curious adolescents wanting to try out a new feeling, over questioning the literal slaughter of said adolescents, you could admit confidently, the system was equivalent to a singular bullcrap. 

Mags was the last to come out, her very small and frail body coming out from behind Finnick, 

who still looked at you funnily. He didn’t utter a word, still in his trance. The bottle was still in your hands, and you knew deep within your very core existence, it was going to take up a real fight for them to take it away from you.

Mags on the other hand chuckled sofly at his side, which in turn took Finnick back to reality, something you were thankful for Mags. You were sure if he kept staring you like that you’d just run back to your room from the utter humiliation. The whole situation felt silly in your hands, especially considering your fingers still gripping onto the bottle. 

“I’ll go and get Vito” offered Finnick as he walked past the tall slender figure of Scarlett, and made his way to get your District partner. 

Scarlett went to sit beside you, almost like she felt close to you on a personal level, all connected by the power of the wine. She held her glass of wine to you, a hungry smile as she waited for your hands to pour down the liquid into her transparent glass. 

Mags sat in front of you, onto the armchair from the same yellowish colour as the couch you were currently leaning agaisnt. She was grinning at you. A mischievous color swam through her grey irises that were were pointing at you. There was something sweet about you only Mags seem to notice, and she seemed amused by your particular behaviour. 

“Have you tried it? It's delicious” Scarlett recommended you, a tone lower from the close proximity she had closed, and it seemed to her that there was a new level of vulnerability between the three of you. The flowing liquid brushed past her coloured lips, and where it not for the bubble that formed from inside her throat, one that it quickly disappeared to her content belly, you wouldn't have realized she had already gulped down the drink. It was sophisticated one, one done with the sole intention to savour the unique taste, more so for one’s survival. 

You moved your head no, a little shy after being caught during the act. But were you? Exactly what were you doing that was so wrong? Everyone present seemed so nonchalant about it, so used to it, you coudn’t help but bury yourself deeper into the depths of your own embarrassment. You coudn’t help but ask yourself why you hadn’t asked them earlier if you could take a sip

And with that, you were sure you were going to do a little session by the great name of self-ridiculization when you were alone, which meant screaming off to your pillow.

You took a pity sip. Just like what you had predicted, it was everything but disappointing. The way the beverage was made was very much different from all the drinks you shared with Edna. This one, was lower on the bitterness, and whoever wrote the recipe made the correct decision to add the sweet fruity taste to it. That was the secret ingredient, the sweetness almost overpowered the cringing taste of the alcohol, and a bubble of sparkling water tickled your throat when you gulped down. Truly delicious.

Scarlett winked at you, a bigger grin appeared on her face. You looked over to her, and for once her very presence didn’t feel excriciatingly annoying. Her hyper overjoy she always seemed to wear on her cheek easily exhausted anyone present, especially when she seemed so eager to talk about the Hunger Games.

You had taken notice of Mags scanning eyes over your essence from the very moment she sat just in front of you. So you gave a pointed look, a one questioning over her roaming pupils on you. Mags responded with another smile, a gentle and mature one, from a woman with decades of experience ready to reveal the secrets of a human’s purpose in life. The way her eyes closed when she bore her teeth out, gave you the understanding she didn’t have the slightest intention to spill out whatever was going on through her mind.

You sighed along with the welcoming steps from both Finnick and Vito. A second barely passed when the two appeared through the door. Finnick was in his still living sculpture form, created by an artist filled with the purest form of infatuation, his passion for the beautiful creatures that lurked on the breathing planet, and definitely taking upon the inspiration of the gods of beauty and hypnotic perfection, and thus he was born. 

Vito was close behind him, a look that gave away his tumultuous mind. His eyes shoned the void of his black irises, that seemed to have merged with its pupils. His rustled hairs hung in messy strands, evident of his attempt in walking into a deep slumber. A pair of silky beige trousers attached to his hips. His button-up shirt he was using as nightly gear, had been hanging around him loosely, and your working quick eyes noticed just how he was interlocking each button for its respective hole just as he got in the salon, suggesting he’d just worn it for the courtesy of joining your reunion.

You couldn’t stop the sarcastic thought from drilling your mind ‘How kind of the them to provide its Tribute’s with pleasantries' regarding with existence of the clothing provided by the Capital. But it wasn’t just that, it was as well the rich dishes and product designs. You very much enjoyed them, but you coudn’t help feeling it was a direct jab at you former way of life, a much poorer lifestyle than theirs. 

Everything was great, you had been the first to enjoy them, but it still felt icky to your senses. It is as if the Capitol was trying to ridicule you in some way or another. 

Vito followed your pointing eyes, a tired greeting. He probably stayed in bed, waiting to be taken by the realm of dreams, hoping when he woke up everything was just but a terrible nightmare. And that feeling sunken within your heavy chest.

Both men sat down beside us, and Vito couldn’t help but travel his gave along the table, finishing to see past your fingers to Scarlett’s. He’d taken notice of the bottle you both were sharing, and a hollow feeling sat on top of his heart. He barely mumbled something audible.

“Is that wine?” Vito’s voice was weak when he let the words escape. His funny look, essentially identical to Finnick’s, mimicked the way his tune sounded, confused and perplexed. 

Something about Vito you had realized was the way his face was exactly that of a transparent mineral. Everything he built himself with, every opinion and moment of decision, was all said through his eyes before he could even speak them. 

“Why are you drinking wine?” he questioned your actions, with the ingredients of a slight judgemental tone, and an astonished murmur. He specifically looked at you, trying to find the broken wires inside your brain, the ones that made you make circuit-breaker decisions.

“Why not?” you asked back. The difference in tone was surprisingly abundant. His was more weak and slow, begging for an outer force to comfort him; and yours was simply more cutthroat and defensive. 

He didn’t say anything else after that, bewilderment spoke his eyes. His lips fell apart, trying to find the words he wanted to say. But he couldn’t, not when he was so stunned at your answer. An he supposed  the problem didn’t come from a circuit breaker, rather you were suffering from unmatching wires that had been wrongly connected.

“Edna always told me. ‘If I’m able to stitch back a four-inch infected laceration without the need of any painkiller, I was old enough to drink alcohol’ ” You repeted those wise words your teacher and, later considered grandmother spoke. The words and phases that echoed through each rib, in a never-ending cycle of teachings that clung to you like a piercing fishhook through warm flesh. 

Vito kept his stare on you, unable to comprehend you. The dark circles that were slowly creeping up under his eyes came from the instilled distress that overpowered his body. He appreciated what you had done earlier, he’d be lying if he told you he didn’t need it, that he was alright. The sickening idea that both of you were going to be placed in a mortal arena fed his sleepless anxiety. The screening scenes from previous Hunger Games editions pierced his soul, like an arrow to his heart. 

He found himself taking back his initial thoughts though. He previously found himself relieved when his partner was someone unknown to him, someone he only knew in passing, that he never had a heartfelt conversation with you. The guilt of those primal thoughts runs his blood cold because after what you had done to him, a complete stranger, the comfort he needed for the simple reasoning that you were concerned about him.

You were a good person at heart, and you didn’t deserve to die in such a cruel fate. In the middle of nowhere, where even nature itself is out there designed to kill you. With the background of the meaning of the Hunger Games, many Tributes grew desperate to try and change their hopeless destiny. Their minds break inside that Hell, and with fear running their imprudent’s choices, they kill whoever is set in their way. In this game, you had to let go of one’s nature and belief with the off chance to see another day. 

So when he saw you with a glass of wine in hand, he couldn’t help but be resentful over your shown obliviousness to the whole situation, or maybe you just weren’t as concerned as he dictated you should be. He appreciated what you had done back then, reassuring him everything would be alright. But deep down he knew those words were empty in the ears of fate, and you couldn’t guarantee the outcome even if you wanted to. 

Your lips took another gulp of the wine, he felt as though the earth would bury him alive. Just then a crumbling thought avalanched his mind. His soul felt heavy, and there was nothing he could do about it. He felt personally victimized, wishing you had never been picked in the Reaping, and all thoughts of earlier gratitude subsided and felt personally betrayed by your words.

You tasted the addicting wine once again. Your head moved to Scarlett’s, praising the wine choice whoever picked for this journey. 

“This will be the death of me. It's like a delicious poison running through my veins” you told her delighted. There was something so pure about the way a refreshing wine glass traveled through your entire body, that felt like swimming under the humidity of the summer’s heat.

“Oh ho ho” Scarlett chuckled at your comment. She was good drinking company, you had to give her that. She unknowingly distracted you from your oceanic torment, taking away the pleas of your mind to give in and open your eyes to what you were truly feeling.

“I know someone who you’d get along with” She spoke again, a giggly voice present. 

“Haymitch, right?” Now it was Finnick who joined in. Another small grin appeared on his face, however small though, it lit up the room just as if he bore his sparkling teeth out. And, god, you had to stop yourself from forming a curse after seeing his beautiful dimples. 

“I could see you two becoming close friends” he added. Green eyes attempting to read behind your pupils.

Haymitch. He sounded familiar to your ears, but you couldn’t quite picture him in your mind. And just as you went to ask for who they were referring to, Vito's voice became clearer. 

“Are we going to form a plan or not?” he sounded strained, stress had been building up his senses, and you felt once again guilty. “Look, I just want, even a half a chance to win this” he added. His voice hinted that he was mad, and it wasn’t his fault you had already given up. 

“Please,” his eyes maneuvered to Scarlett. “Tell us what to do. How do we gain sponsors” You heard just how he tried to bite back a crack. “or how to not die out there” The intensity of his stare made the air tense. Even Scarlett, the queen of making everything as lighthearted as possible, didn’t say anything back. She just stared at him, her words stuck to the back of her throat, and his low tone disorienting her brain. 

You placed your wine glass down. Your eyes stole his glance, before speaking out your thoughts. 

“Vito” you called out to him. And just like his voice, you saw how even his obsidian eyes cracked with each passing minute. 

“I’m close to incapable of even protecting myself,” you confessed, and that hard acceptance soaked your mind. There was nothing for you to do. 

His hard stare begged you to continue, because for him, at this point he’d listen to anyone, even the defeated conclusions of a self-proclaimed goner like yourself.

“But I know how to heal you. I know how to wrap up an open wound. I know how to slow down an infection. And I know for sure, I’ll do my best to stop any type of poison spread over your body” you told him. You understood him, understood how he was feeling, and how desperation ran miles over his head. 

“I’ll be out there to take care of you. But I need you to promise me one thing.” his stare was pointed at you, and no matter how distracting his surroundings may be, he listened carefully to your words. 

“I need you to stay by my side. I need you to protect me when I need it. And I promise you, I’ll be there to look out for you” The light bulbs shone in the sclera of your eyes, just as hard as the tone of your voice. 

He nodded, agreeing to that verbal contract, and he was ready to carry out the duty you just placed on his shoulders. 

“I’ll be there by your side until you proclaim yourself as Victor.” you gave him a sad smile. It seemed that’s the only thing you do these days. A smile in the face of a terrible tragedy. 

He looked away from you, into the crown of the passing trees through the window. He seemed more relaxed, more confident. And in the lingering silence, no one dared to interrupt the meaning behind your despairing words. 

The victors of the previous games looked at you. You felt isolated behind their gaze, and you couldn’t even return their pitiful glance towards you. The irises on your eyes traveled outside the train car,  through every single tree, and it felt like you moved as fast as the speed of light. An open gap between your tight chest, that’s what it felt like knowing every passing tree meant getting closer to your imminent death. It felt philosophical in a sense, just how the leaves your eyes landed on, quickly swifted into the next one, like a prophecy that your end was happening soon. And the usual childish thought that the trees were waving you farewell with every wind brush, fell too real for you. 

Vito grunted some words, but you were unable to hear them, too focused on the melancholic song your body sang. Aside from you, the rest looked at him, and his gaze returned to each one of them. An internal conflict stood beside him as he thought out his mind. Finnick looked to Mags, and she returned it with another, understanding just what lay in those ghostly words of yours. They knew what you were implying, you didn’t need to say it, the meaning of grief stayed prevalent in the air you all shared. 

“What about you?” he muttered just above a whisper, but you still understood the meaning of his words. He was going to force you to say it even when you didn’t want to. The words you kept hidden, for your own mental protection, so you woudn’t crumble in that very instant.

“What about me?” you asked back with a sneer. A tone anyone understanding the implication of the conversation would realize to be in self-mockery. Vito lost his voice again, hanging his lips apart to dry his tongue. A piercing pain hurt his heart like a freezing icicle to his soul. 

“In the end, it's better you come out as the sole victor.” Those two words, they were the final blows of the crack in your soul. Just like someone smashed a mirror after seeing their body reflected. And it was even harder having to act stronger than what you actually were, because deep between the layers of deception and half-truths, a house that only hopelessness and hurt habited. But there was nothing you could do about it, it was better to accept it now, so when you’d be faced with your impending moment, you might as well feel at peace for the life Edna had the chance to give you.

“I’m making my peace with death.” you smiled with nothing other than the wrinkled lines of mournful acceptance. Everyone looked at you, and Vito gave you a displeased glare, one you knew he was about to try and pick up a fight at your words.

“Look, I've been on my own my entire life, and I’m fine with it. I’ll die just how I lived, alone,” you spoke before he could even refute back your stubborn thoughts. But he couldn’t accept it, and it hurt his soul just looking at your pitiful face. 

“We need you alive” a loud husky metamorphosed his vocal chords, with a more aggressive tone than you had gotten used to in the little hours you had been with him. A venomous stinger struck you unannounced. You knew what he meant, the fishermen you had brought up earlier. 

“The Peacemakers are being a pain in the ass lately, the Herbal Shop will close sooner or later anyway” you tried to debate, any inkling of gentle softness leaving after what felt an attack at his hostile tone.

“You’re absolutely right. Your victory would shut them up” sarcasm placed on his mouth into a grin, a scoff vibrating the back of his salivary tongue in his in disbelief. His crease wrinkled at the middle of both his eyebrows. But what you could not fathom, why was his hard look directed at you. 

“That’ll stop them raking your name through the mud” he added in venomous grace directed at the people who were supposed to ‘maintain peace’. And yet, it didn’t feel the least be sympathetic. 

“My name’s been through a lot. I can take it” you talked back. You had to bite your burning tongue so it wouldn’t mention anything about his unexpected and detestable attitude.

“Well I don’t have your knowledge or skills. I’m easily replaceable” It seemed he always had something back to say to you, but it never convinced you, not with your stubborn nature. And yet, you were left speechless. You weren’t sure as to why he’d become so aggravateted all of a sudden. 

The confusion that sparked in your inner central core only left you empty. You weren’t sure as to why he’d gotten so hostile. Vito just scanned your face finding any clue of your swirling hidden thoughts inside of your head. He just wanted to swim across from your sea current, he wanted to break apart your mind, so you’d understand his point. He found himself close to finding the secrets you wanted to keep hidden under a rusty lock. 

Your lips parted, and the way your pupils shoke in trying to find a reason as to why he was perked up, only made his shimmering eyes spark in his further determination. 

Now it was you who stayed quiet, still in a messy stupefaction running your mind. You wanted to say something back, bite at his words and make him understand that if it came to sacrificing, it was a better option for your to take that blow instead of him. 

In the absence of your voice, Vito continued on. 

“As soon as the Hunger Games start, run far away from the Cornucopia. I’ll get everything and come back to you” his voice was much lower, the excruciating energy he managed to surface was gone. At least not in an explosive way, but the way his tune forced out intimidation for you to listen to him. You blinked at his words, and a little not right stepped on your face upon his pathetic excuse of a plan. You licked your dry lips.

“What? No!” you started. Just as this conversation continued on you coudn’t help but feel like someone slammed against your body, from each word he tried to reason with. You sighed internally, deeply exhaling the breath as a means to get you to calm down. “You’ll just die there” you replicated to him. You surprised yourself when the implications of your words sunk your heart deep. Vito could die.

 “And we need you alive” You elevated your voice, as you defended your reasoning against his immediate thought process. Like the calamity of a sea storm clashing against the sharp stones of a cliff, fighting against the aggressive nature of the submerged waves.

“You’re more necessary back home. I’m more than willing to die-” his frsutration could only but become increasingly bigger when you cut him off. It was far past him, the realization that two clashing thoughts could never end with one winning victor.

“Your sisters need you alive. Your family needs you alive” you raised your voice, not enough to be considered that of a yell, but loud enough that the energy that escaped through your pores left burning marks on the people around you. 

And it was loud enough that you long forgotten, and didn’t care, about anyone else who’d still be asleep in the train ride.

“Just listen to me!” Vito screamed. He wanted to shut you up, and he reasoned that by leaving you as astonished as you were, he could explain as to why he felt like it was better for him to be buried against the hard bloody floor of the arena. 

And you were dismayed. All words you wanted to speak run back down your throat at the sheer audacity you felt. So you looked at him, nothing but critical in your glare. You couldn’t leave his eyes, threatning pupils cheering him to challenge your very being again. 

Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it.

Your repeated thoughts were as fast as the bullet train you were on. You knew the moment you lost your self control, you’d say something you’d later regret. So you looked at him, a fiery rage in your gaze, but still controlling your silence. 

Vito then realized he regretted shouting at you in such a manner. The hating look your irises burned and churned within, took him back. He didn’t expect you’d react that way, and he regretted not taking another second to think what the outcome may be from his screaming. So he stilled under your gaze, every sheer of irate emotions slowly dissipating.

He opened his mouth, wanting so say something, to immediately apologize for what he’s just done. Regret flowed through his senses, so much it made him almost blind to everything else that was occurring. And with regret, came the emotions of shame and embarrassment. He was vulnerable under you heavy stare.

Seconds passed like this. You were looking into his eyes, but you weren’t saying inthing behind them. The source didn’t come to try and intimidate him, it had nothing to do with you feeling more powerful than him. But as your gazes interlocked, you had to physically bite your bottom lip so you wouldn't spill all the bitter words that sat ready above your tongue. Don’t say it. Every second, your head provoked you to take one step further and finish this into a screaming match. The type of fight that, when the both of you left to your rooms, you two had equal resentment for each other. Don’t say it. 

With another deep breath exhaling from your nose, you stood up. Just then, you realized the rest of the audience present in your discussion, by which all of them looked rather uncomfortable, and you coudn’t blame them. You passed Scarlett and Finnick, in which he stalkendly followed you figure. He didn’t know what to say to remedy the situation, was there even a way to make this better? Or maybe the best thing he could do was to just stay silent and let the breeze carry both of the Tribute’s emotions. 

Your body froze at the realization you had forgotten something crucial. You looked at the Scarlett, which she returned a timid gaze. Vito seemed on wanting to say something, especially now that you had stopped in your tracks. It was obvious you wanted to leave, and he coudn’t blame you. But before he could apologize for his outburst, your voice fied out. Much more calm, and without a hint of an explosive counter reaction.

“I’ll be taking this” you leaned forward into the table, grabbing the inquisitive wine, ready to use it as soon as your bedroom door closed behind you. 

“I’ll be drowning myself in this tonight” you murmured. You were proud at the way you didn’t give in to you head’s whispering thoughts to aggravate the situation further. And before you knew it, you blood run much slower, and your energy subsided, leaving you with the hoarse of your mutter.

You looked back at everyone, and a small grin formed in the base of your lips, and they understood you were telling them your goodnight before your body went to the door. 

But you stopped. With the wine in you hand heavely hanging, you went back to see your partner. 

“Get back home, Vito” you exasperated. He went to gaze at you once his name was mentioned. And though you noticed his soury internal conflict, his original thoughts still induced him.

He went to say you name, a much softer trembling mutter. But you cut him off. You didn’t want to argue any further, and you weren't going to stay for whatever he had to say.

“Go home” your voice sounded more stable, more confident in your argument. And with this, you finished the dispute between the two of you. With an order for him to return back to District 4, and get back to his family. 

Previous // Next

TagList: @marvelescvpe

[megalony]

Soft Spot- Part 2

This is the next art of my new dark! Mob! Chris Evans series, I hope you will all like it, feedback would be lovely.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez-blog @jonesyaddiction @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me  @hellsdragon @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ceres27 @avyannadawn  @noonenuts​ @sleepylunarwolf @coverupps​

Masterlist

Summary: Chris has his hands full with his club, his boys and his wife who he dotes on. Things get harder when (Y/n)’s pregnant but she’s barely gotten over losing their little girl.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Y/n) felt like stomping her foot on the ground to make the automatic doors register her presence and open to her like the gates of Hell opening up. It wasn't as if she was too light for the sensor to register her and she was stood as close as possible but the doors to the gym were on their last legs. Chris was havnig them replaced next week, finally.

When the doors finally opened, (Y/n) was hit like a wave of that smell which lingered with her wherever she went. It smelt of bleach and metal and if she took a big deep breath, sometimes Chris's smell wafted in through the air too.

She dragged her feet through to reception and tried to keep a straight, tall composure but it was getting hard. Her body felt like it needed to collapse, her legs were hard as stone and her arms were barely able to move at her sides. She had felt too unwell to drive today and was thankful the gym was only a fifteen minute walk from their home.

Scanning her fingers through her pockets, (Y/n) tried to find her keycard. Only Chris, (Y/n) and Sebastian had the master keycards that opened every and any door in the gym, even the 'dark room' where people got put back in line and sometimes fights happened under the radar.

Her hands moved to her bag hanging on her shoulder to scan through for her keycard but nothing was going her way. Her purse rattled around in her bag, her pack of paracetamol clinked against the few mints and sweets she had in there for the boys and her keys jumped like they were wild frogs. She would have to rampage through her bag to find her key and she just didn't have the energy for that.

She wanted to scream. (Y/n) wanted to scream and shout and collapse down on her knees until Chris came and found her. But all she could do was stand and stare at the desk in front of her. There were three people in reception hanging around like they were having a casual chat which wasn’t the most normal sight in the club but their conversations died out immediately when their eyes landed on (Y/n).

"Jack, buzz me through please." (Y/n) leaned her arm on the reception desk and tried to smile at the older man sitting behind the desk before she glanced at the two men stood near the door.

They were trying to smile at her but they couldn't seem to be able to. Usually everyone was cool and calm around her, they flocked to talk to her and make sure she was alright because having a conversation with Chris was hard. He was the boss, anything they said or did was noted and remembered and it made people anxious. The only person who could joke with Chris and not fear the consequences, was Sebastian.

"Yeah, um... (Y/n)..."

Jack lifted his hand and slowly pointed to his nose as his smile faded and a look of concern washed over him.

(Y/n) felt a flash of worry in her stomach and she swiped her hand beneath her nose to find she was having a nosebleed.

Great. That was just what she needed today.

"Here," Dean, who had been standing by the door, swiftly held out a hankerchief which (Y/n) took gratefully.

The sound of the door buzzing made relief bubble in her chest and (Y/n) nodded at the men before she tried to hurry through the doors but she didn't feel well. She hadn't eaten anything for about two days which was making her feel limp and lifeless. All she did was throw up when she ate anything, no matter what time of day it was so she had decided abstenance was going to be her friend for the next day or two. Even water was coming back up with vengence. And now with blood gushing through the handkerchief and onto her fingers, her head was feeling woozy.

She could barely see to walk past the equipment room and trudge down to the corridor at the back. (Y/n) let most of her weight lean on the wall and she shuffled down until she reached Chris's office.

There was no energy left in (Y/n) to try and look through her bag for the key to the office. She let herself slide down until she was sat on the floor and her forehead rested against the office door with the hankerchief glued to her nose and mouth.

(Y/n) didn't know how long she sat there for. It may have been a few seconds, it could have been half an hour, she wasn't sure. All she knew was she must have blacked out because when she opened her eyes, the blood on her hand was dried and crusted and she had started to sweat. The door was as cold as ice and it felt soothing against her burning skin so she leaned her head on it a little more before her eyes fell closed again.

"Shit!"

A tremor of fear trickled down Sebastian's spine when he turned the corner and glanced down the corridor. He could feel a hand clenching round his lungs when he realised it was (Y/n) slumped on the floor with blood on her hands.

Oh God, what had happened to her? Why hadn't anyone seen her or come to get him or Chris?

Chris was going to hit the roof when he came here.

Sebastian jogged down the corridor and crouched in front of (Y/n). He was careful when he reached over and gently cupped (Y/n)'s face in his hands so he could turn her head to face him. The relief he felt almost knocked him off balance when he realised she had had a nose bleed. As long as no one had tried to punch or attack her and nothing was wrong with the baby, then this wouldn't be too bad. He could call Chris without fearing that his boss would hit the roof or explode.

One time Sebastian had seen someone smack (Y/n)'s bum when she passed and safe to say, Chris broke the man's wrist. He didn't know what Chris would do if someone dared to punch or frisk or attack (Y/n). He would likely murder someone for doing that to his wife.

"Hey, (Y/n), you with me?"

Moving his hand, Sebastian pressed the back of his hand against her temple before he sighed and pursed his lips. She had a fever.

It took a lot of effort for (Y/n) to try and move and in the end she gave up, settling for resting her hand on Sebastian's wrist to acknowledge him. It was hard enough keeping her eyes on him, let alone trying to move from where she was uncomfortably tucked into the corner of the doorway.

Fumbling around on his trousers, he grabbed the small radio clipped onto his belt. It was easier to contact everyone around the gym on a radio than trying to search for them or ring them. Every worker had one.

"Chris, can you come to the office, (Y/n)'s here." Sebastian was the only one who was allowed to call Chris by his name. Everyone else who worked for him was demoted to calling him 'boss' or 'sir'. And he couldn't go telling everyone on the radio what state (Y/n) was in, he didn't want everyone flocking down to see what was going on. It wouldn't be fair on her.

"What have you been doing?" He muttered quietly to himself before he took the hankerchief from her hand and tried to wipe beneath her nose and mouth. The less blood Chris saw, the calmer he would be when he got here.

"Seb... what're you doing?"

Chris's head tipped at an odd angle and his shoulders hunched up and tensed as he walked slowly down the corridor. He didn't like the look of his right-hand man crouched down on the floor, hiding (Y/n) from sight. He brushed his hands over his trousers to try and smudge some of the blood from his hands but he could feel the dried blood caked beneath his fingernails and he couldn't scrub his knuckles well, lest he wanted to scrub off the scabs starting to form. Chris knew his wife hated to see blood on his hands so he always washed up before he saw her.

If he knew she was coming to the club this early he would have washed up way before now.

When he got up close to the pair of them, he could feel his blood running cold and tingling down to his fingertips. (Y/n), his precious girl, was curled up on the floor like she was cowering away from them. Her eyes were barely open, streaks of blood were smeared across her nose and down her lips and chin and he could see the blood on her hands. And the bloody hankerchief Sebastian was gripping like it was his lifeline.

Why was his wife barely conscious on the floor, smeared in blood? How had she got this far and no one had noticed or told him?

"What the fuck happened to her?"

"I don't know, she was here when I came down."

When Sebastian shuffled back, Chris went down on his knees and cupped (Y/n)'s face so she was looking at him. He saw the moment she realised he was there because her eyes seemed to brighten and a lopsided smile graced her red lips and the look made his heart jump.

"Baby, baby look at me. What happened?" Chris's voice was oddly gentle and soft around the edges like he was slowly melting on the inside from loving her. But he couldn't quite hide the concern from reaching his hardened features, he wanted to know what happened and he wanted to make sure if someone hurt her, they would pay for it.

"I had a nosebleed," (Y/n) could feel her senses slowly coming back to her now and with Chris's fingers splayed across her neck and his thumbs slowly rubbing over her cheeks, she felt like she was waking up from anaesthetic.

"No one's hurt you, then?"

"No, baby. I- I think I blacked out though,"

She couldn't help but smile. The concern was evident in his eyes and the wary tone of his voice and it made (Y/n)'s heart skip a beat. She hadn't meant to scare him or any of the workers but she didn't want to stay home alone when she felt unwell. The best place to be was with Chris but she also didn't want to interrupt when he was working and if he thought she hadn't noticed the blood on his hands, he was mistaken.

"You've got a fever babygirl. Come on, let's get you sat in the office."

Moving his hands, Chris wrapped his arms around (Y/n)'s waist and quietly counted to three before he stood up and pulled her to her feet. The way (Y/n) lazily smiled up at him and rubbed her hands over his shoulders made him playfully roll his eyes and sigh.

"Hi," She whispered quietly into his neck, muttering a quiet 'oh' when her legs wobbled and her weight fell onto his chest. It was a good job he had been expecting it, he took all her weight in his arms without faltering or stumbling back. And he kept her leaned against his chest with one arm so his other hand could cradle the back of her head while Sebastian unlocked the office door.

"Come on," He muttered quietly against her hair as he guided her into the office but after a few steps, Chris gave up.

He moved his arms once again and effortlessly scooped (Y/n) up like she was one of the boys he was carrying to bed. He felt her squeak of surprise against his neck but she made no protest. She looped her arms around his neck and let him carry her through to the sofa, surprised when Chris sat down and perched her on his lap.

"It's a good job we're going to the hospital today," He whispered the words quietly in her ear as he sat back and slouched against the sofa, letting (Y/n) lean back into his chest.

They were going to the hospital for a scan today and Chris couldn't be more relieved. He needed to tell the midwife (Y/n) wasn't eating and was barely drinking anything because she kept being sick. She couldn't keep carrying on like this without any help, they needed a doctor's advice and someone to look her over and make sure she was okay. As much as Chris loved having (Y/n) at the office, he couldn't have her turning up and blacking out when she got here, it was too dangerous.

What if the next time she felt ill she didn't make it to the gym and she collapsed in the street?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A fond look washed over Chris's face and he couldn't help the smile that broke out on his lips when he glanced across at his girl. For the past few minutes, he had felt (Y/n) brushing her fingers across his bruised knuckles but now she had his hand held up to her face so she could kiss his knuckles.

With how many fights he got into, his hands scarcely managed to heal before the old wounds were cut open again and his hands were usually always large and swollen. His knuckles and the back of his hands were discoloured with red and white streaks across them from scars that were continuously re-opened.

"How do you feel?" He asked quietly before he scuffed his chair a bit closer to the bed she was lying on.

"Better," Both of them knew it was a lie and (Y/n) knew better than to lie to Chris when he could always tell, but he dropped the matter and stayed quiet with a small smile gracing his lips.

He knew she wasn't feeling better. Her temperature had gone down a bit but she was still pale and looked sickly. Deep down, Chris had an unsettling feeling that (Y/n) was going to be admitted to the hospital and if that happened, he would need all the strength and help he could get.

He knew (Y/n) wouldn't stay here without him.

After losing Evelyn, (Y/n) hadn't been eating or drinking and got admitted to hospital. Chris had left her on the ward for all of two hours before the hospital nurse had rang him, begging for him to come back because (Y/n) had ripped out her IV, almost hit a nurse and tried to leave without being discharged. He had to fight with her to get her back in bed and wait for someone to sedate her so she could rest.

"Good afternoon Mrs Evans, how are you today?" (Y/n) sat up a bit straighter and forced a smile when the midwife walked in.

"I'm okay-"

"Baby," There was a warning tone to Chris's deep voice that made (Y/n) wince and when she dared to look over at him, the smile had fallen from his lips and his brows were raised. She could be on death's door sick to her stomach and she would still try and convince everyone she was fine. It was something that always upset Chris, no matter how ill (Y/n) was she never wanted to make a fuss or have people worry about her. But she couldn't always act like she was fine when she really wasn't.

"I haven't been feeling so good today,"

A groan left his lips and he hung his head in his hands, scraping his fingers over his beard before he dared to look up at the midwife standing across the bed from him.

"She's not been eating properly for over a week and she blacked out this morning after a nosebleed. You're not fine."

"Okay, when was the last time you ate and managed to keep it down?"

(Y/n) slowly spun the ring round on Chris's finger that seemed to have stollen her attention for the meantime. When she dared to look at Chris who was looking the other way, she felt a shiver creeping up her neck. He wasn't going to be happy when he found out she had lied to him.

"I- I haven't kept anything down so I haven't really eaten for nearly three days, I guess."

She could feel the way Chris tightened his hand around hers until she could barely feel her fingers anymore. His head snapped to look at her and a gleam crossed his eyes.

"What about fluids?"

"Water won't even stay down,"

"I'll need to take some blood for testing but if you can't keep any fluids down, I'd like to admit you to hospital. You'll need an IV of nutrients and some anti-sickness medication. Let's take a look at little one first though."

(Y/n)'s hands started to shake but she tried her best to steady them as she rolled up her shirt to expose her stomach. She was only just over three months along so her stomach wasn't shaped or round yet but she couldn't wait for it to be.

When her eyes darted over to Chris, for a dreaded moment (Y/n) thought he was going to walk out when he rose to his feet. Her mind raced, panicking that she had riled him up by not telling him how bad she had been feeling, but she felt her heart jump when he moved closer instead of away. He stood by the side of the bed, one arm sneaking around her shoulders while his other hand held hers again.

The look in his eyes told her they would be talking about this later, but for now he was still excited. It didn't matter that this was their fourth pregnancy, it always felt like the first and Chris had gathered a collection of scan photos in his top bedside drawer.

"Alrighty, if you look at the screen here," the midwife turned the monitor towards the couple before she began to point. "Oh, congratulations are in order. There's baby A, and there's baby B."

(Y/n) could feel the shudder that rattled through Chris before tremoring through her too.

Twins.

Two babies to feed during the night and watch over and change and settle when they cried bloody murder. Two children to try and decifer and get confused. What if they got muddled which was which?

Two chances of losing a baby. Two babies at the same time was harder than looking after one. (Y/n) could miss any telltale signs that one of them wasn't okay and she could lose another child. nothing had been wrong with Evelyn until she stopped breathing. The last time (Y/n) held her, she had been cold and heavy, an awful weight in (Y/n)'s arms when she didn't wriggle or whimper or blow raspberries.

She couldn't lose another baby- she couldn't lose two more babies.

(Y/n) didn't realise she'd been holding her breath until she felt Chris kissing her temple whispering 'breathe' against her flushed skin. His arm moved to rest across her chest and she clung tightly to his arm, digging her nails into his skin to try and ground herself to him as she sat forward.

"The boys will be happy," Chris kissed the top of (Y/n)'s head, smiling to himself when she nuzzled up against his bicep. He could practically hear her worries floating around in his head and despite his own worries and concerns, his excitement was overriding everything else.

Two more babies.

He couldn't think of anything better and he couldn't dare to think of the few worries in his head. He couldn't think of how (Y/n) might panic or lose her senses when she had two babies to worry about losing because what happened to Evelyn was a one in a million chance. If they tried to think and feel the same emotions they had with the boys, if they focused on their babies and didn't think too much of Evelyn, it would be alright.

Chris couldn't dare think what would happen if they had a girl or two girls. He didn't want to imagine replacing Evelyn or having two girls and either worry about losing them or feel cheated if they didn't and wonder why only Evelyn had to die. He couldn't even dare to think about another baby girl in his arms or the fact that he'd always wanted a little princess to spoil.

They would cross that bridge in two months when they found out what they were having.

"(Y/n), I'd like to take some blood now, then I'll made a few calls so you can be admitted to the ward."

(Y/n) didn't have the will or the energy to fight it. She might not have to stay overnight or more than one night and they were already in the maternity unit of the hospital so she wouldn't have far to go. Right now, her head was spinning and her skin was prickling with heat and all she wanted to do was sleep.

She waited for the midwife to go retrieve a vile and needle before she held her arm out. Her eyes closed and she buried her face deeper into Chris's bicep. She didn't like needles.

Chris on the other hand, was fascinated with them. Blood and gore was his speciality, he could skillfully slice someone open and knew where would inflict the most pain. He could cut someone from their elbow vertically down to their wrist and know it was the quickest way for them to bleed out and die. His eyes watched in curiosity as a band was strapped tight around (Y/n)'s upper arm before the needle was punctured into the crease of her elbow.

The midwife took to viles of blood which she labelled and set in a basket on her desk before she turned back to face them.

"If you could wait back in the waiting room, someone will come and direct you when I've let the doctor know."

"Thank you,"

(Y/n) could feel her hands shaking when she cleaned her stomach. Taking blood always made her woozy and with how uneasy she felt already, now she felt horrid. Her head was swimming, she couldn't feel her fingers or even her hands anymore and she realised that she was trembling.

"Baby, are you alright?"

Chris held his hands out to steady (Y/n) when she stood on wobbling legs and seemed to stop. Her eyes had a faraway look like she was looking into a whole other world but he didn't like the way she was shaking and the colour seemed to drain from her completely. He had been with her the first time she had her bloods done and she threw up and passed out at the same time. Every time after that she either went lightheaded or she had to lie down because it made her feel sick.

Everything started to spin.

"Help," Just as the word spluttered past her chapped lips, (Y/n) felt the room turn on its axis and she suddenly became weightless.

Chris groaned when (Y/n)'s head bashed into his shoulder and momentairely jarred his arm before he tried to gain back composure. He locked his arms around her hips and pulled her into his lower abdomen before she had chance to hit the ground. He couldn't have her hurting herself, not when she was weakened and rather ill already.

Spinning (Y/n) around, Chris hoisted her up bridal style, making sure her head was on his shoulder and not hanging back so she didn't hurt her neck.

"Lay her back on the bed,"

He did as he was told and slowly eased (Y/n) back down on the bed before he held her hand and gently carded his fingers through her hair. His eyes watched the midwife intently as she checked (Y/n)'s pulse and placed a thermometer between her lips.

"She's got a high temperature, I'll go get her admitted on a ward."

"Oh baby, what am I gonna do with you?"

[venomous-qwille]

"You're lucky you're cute" ouo

Sooo this... became a bit more than a drabble in the end I must admit. By the time I reached the prompt Moon had already managed to derail the scene in my mind- turning it into something more akin to a half-chapter of Astral Bodies (in fact this will most certainly be worked into a chapter further down the line). This whole thing was super inspiring, so thanks Celtic :) With all this in mind, minor spoilers ahead for Astral Bodies. TW for a little bit of PDA. The song playing in the aerial scene is After Dark by Mr. Kitty. Preview~

Fic under the cut~

"You're lucky you're cute" Moon/Reader Words: 3648

You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand, the remains of glitter transferring in a sweaty iridescent smear that shimmers up your forearm. It doesn’t matter how much makeup remover you use; you could rub your face ‘til it was raw and you would still find glitter on your pillow, in your shower, in the bottom of your dance bag…

You stretch and sigh, it has been a long-ass day. The last of the parade performers and maintenance staff have already left Character 2, making their way back home to the residences.

But you…

Well, it is 00:48am and you are nothing if not a glutton for punishment. You are buzzed. You know if you go back to your room there is no way you will be sleeping. Not a chance. Nope.

You had told Sunny that you would head home… but you had never specified that you’d head home right away. Granted he had given you a look, one of the ones he usually saved for moments of exasperation, exceptionally naughty children or consecutive lunches with low nutritional value. You chose to take that for what it was: his tacit understanding of your intentions.

Both he and his brother were aware of your late-night excursions to the dance studio (that was, after all, how you had first met Moon), and while Sun had never been explicit in his disapproval, Moon had made sure you were exactly aware of his feelings on the matter.

If it was past midnight, it was past your bed-time.

You tighten your grip on your bag as you trot deeper in to the bowels of the parade department. No one will be in any of the studios at this time of night, so you will have your pick of the lot. You make a beeline towards P4-PC2-029, a skip in your step.

You really want to try something new.

As you get further down into the hallways at the bottom of Character 2, the lights take on a fluorescent quality, flooding the walls with tinny yellow light.

There is a scratching noise in the vent above you.

Tap-tap-tap

Your eyes narrow.

Flagrantly ignoring the little noise from the vent (hello Moon) you pick up a jog the rest of the way to the dance studio, dumping your gear on the crash mats before unzipping your hoodie and adding that to the growing pile on the floor.

Hands now free, you can pillage the storage cupboard for some apparatus and your fingers twitch in anticipation. The room is cavernous, with all manner of rigs prepared for any kind of circus stunt a person could deign to dream up; practically nirvana for someone like you.

With a bounce, you trot over to the storage cupboard. The double doors are big and blue and as you open one you make sure push it firmly against the wall, wedging a little slip of paper under the rim to stop it closing on you. The closet has a sensor which automatically turns the lights off when the doors are shut- something that has caught you out many times in the past… and given how late it was you didn’t really want to risk encountering a pissed-off Moon.

You had told Sunny you’d be heading to bed, after all. Yet here you were. At the dance studio at 1am doing stunt work. Probably the exact opposite of in bed.

You pull the cord and the strip-lights flicker to life above you, kicking online with a metallic hrumm. The laminate creaks beneath your feet as you turn. Your eyes rove the stacks of parade equipment, bouncing from shelf to shelf to where you know the aerial acrobatics apparatus is buried at the back. Rolling your shoulders you slink between the bars and boxes and shelves to dislodge the object of your desire: a lyra hoop cut into the shape of a crescent moon. It’s a gaudy, silvery thing, but there is clear method to the swirling metal patterns that decorate its rim; subtle hand-holds and foot-holds and moments of leverage for the discerning acrobat to take advantage of.

You lick your lips.

You love trying new equipment, and you have been making your way through the long list of exotic aerial apparatus that you’ve discovered in this alcove. To you, this place is a treasure trove.

You are forced to duck and bend in order to unwedge the crescent lyra from its place at the back of the shelf. Maneuvering your body to dodge the sharp edges of a pile of stilts you suck in your diaphragm and lean your weight back on your heels, the crescent hoop shifting forward more comfortably into your palms-

Behind you, there is a soft click as the double doors of the closet seal shut.

You curse and the lights slam off automatically.

Almost doubled over underneath the shelving unit you wriggle backwards with a groan. Your hands are wrapped firmly around your quarry as you scramble through the darkness- you refuse to let this whole ordeal be for nothing. Unseen apparatus clatters around you as you reverse back through the trove. Your breath puffs from your nostrils.

With one final tug you drag the ornate lyra out into the narrow cupboard corridor. Your balance slips a little but you right yourself, stumbling as your back meets something hard-

Four cold metal claws grip you by the scruff. There is a pause, a silence only broken by the heavy pounding of your heartbeat- exertion, fear, adrenaline-

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

The words are a guttural growl. He is directly behind you, the static of his voice-box grazing your neck like a kiss.

You swing around to face him, refusing to cringe away. You know that your face is glowing in his infrared vision.

“Moon-” your mouth goes dry.

“-Starliiight,” he sings back at you, and you can hear the grin that rolls across the surface of his static. You swallow.

“Just let me explain-“

“E x p l a i n what? How you liiiied to Sunny again? Or maybe why you think the ruuuules don’t apply to you?” His faceplate spins once, slowly, before slotting back into place with a click. “Go on. I’m waiting.”

“We’ve been through this before Moon- I need to burn off the energy or I can’t sleep I-“

“No castmember should attempt to rig or use a new set of equipment for the first time without at least one other qualified member of staff present.” His eyes narrow, voice flat as he parrots health and safety jargon from the handbook. “Wouldn’t want you to get in to an accident all alooooone down here would we, rulebreaker?”

“I don’t know Moon, would you?” The question hangs for a second and you level your gaze at him, doing your best not to squirm as he towers over you. You let out a breath. “Those are just guidelines anyway, not rules.”

He doesn’t respond, eyes dropping to your arm where he dances his fingers over the flesh of your biceps. You don’t even know whether he’s listening or just ignoring you. Your mouth twists and you can feel the pitch of your voice rising breathily as you clamor to defend yourself-

“I’m not some green college gymnast Moon, this is my livelihood. I know what I’m doing.” Your face screws up a little and you grind out. “Plus. I’m not here on my own am I? You’re here.”

His gaze snaps up to meet yours and his grin seems to stretch.

“Why little Starling,” he coos “if you wanted to give me a private show, all you needed to do was a s k .”

You bite back a retort before recoiling in horror as his eyes drift down to the lyra in your hands. The crescent moon lyra.

“Ohhhh?” You didn’t know it was possible for a robot to sound so viscerally delighted, but here we are. You can hear the fans kick in behind his chassis and something in his chest rumbles in a way that can only described as a purr. “And what is t h i s ?”

You fumble the hoop lamely in your hands.

“You know what it is Moon, stop being a-“

You are cut off as the jester snatches the hoop from you with one hand, the other reaching to scoop you against his front like an infant. Your vision becomes a blur of red and black as he clambers back through the cupboard and out into the dance studio whilst you cling to him for dear life.

“Moon!” You grunt as he deposits you in a neat heap next to your discarded hoodie and duffel bag. “What are you doing?”

Moon doesn’t answer you- skittering away with your lyra hoop to one of the metal wall mounts that dominate the left hand side of the room.

The lights of the dance studio are dim- much dimmer than you left them before your trip to the cupboard and you wonder briefly when and how Moon managed to adjust them without you noticing. But thoughts like that are as futile as the answer is simple: Moon is a sneaky little shit.

“Moon?” You repeat, voice a little more subdued this time. His faceplate swivels backwards to grin at you. “What are you doing?”

“Spotting you.”

“Spotting me-“

Your voice jutters to life from behind his faceplate: “Plus. I’m not here on my own am I? You’re here.” The recording is crisp and uncanny and you swallow a grimace- (is that really what you sound like? Ugh).

“I thought you wanted me to go to bed?” You frown at him- not to look a gift jester in the mouth but this was awfully suspicious.

“Changed my mind.” He says flatly, shrugging as he unreels the rope to attach it to the swivel and carabiners.

“…Okay.” You lick your lips, kicking off your shoes to stretch the arches of your feet.

Moon pays your response no mind, fully engrossed in the mechanism in-front of him. You watch in fascination as he meticulously checks each element of the double pulley system, this way and that, before dismantling the carabiners to re-attach the whole hoop to a paw-plate. You observe as he runs his tests again- checking the safety of the rig with all the concentration of a consummate professional. With a final tug of the hoop he releases it into the air.

“All clear, inspector?” You jab from your place on the crash mat.

His faceplate spins with a high-whine before slowing as he tuts at you sardonically. “Safety first.”

You scoff. “You didn’t seem so concerned about my safety when you tried to throw me off the top of the parade like we were in the fucking lion king-”

“Language.” He interrupts you, voice loud and slow as if talking to a child. “If you fell, Sunny would be saaaad.”

“But not you, huh Moon?” You smile wryly. “You know, if I die then no-one will be around to bring you the next volume of Berserk, just saying.”

His eyes narrow. “I have the internet.”

“I’m sorry.” You say solemnly- and then, after a beat: “…But you know pirating is against the law right?”

He makes a high little sound- somewhere between an choke and a snort, but you keep going.

“And wouldn’t that make you-”

“Starlight.”

“-Some kind of-”

“Don’t you daaare.”

“-I don’t know-”

“B r a t .”

“-Rulebreaker?”

You finish with a smug smile and his faceplate spins three times in quick succession.

“I will drop you.” He snarls and you pout at him wanly.

“But Sunny would be saaad remember?”

“Sunny can go ȇ̵͇̗a̴̢̙̝͐̀̽̇t̶̬͚̣̂̂̎̚ ̴̛̳̍͊̽͂͑͂͊͗̕̕͝͝a̶̠̪̥̥̲̬̥̱͔̥̼̿̔̿̑̾̌͂̔̇͋͆͂̓͝Ḏ̷̡̪̤̻͍̮̱̱̞̟̯̬͕̺͔̦̩͈̻̙̣̔̔̉͐̓͑͒́̓̆̈́̕Ï̷̢̙̳̼͉̩͙̞͇̥̆͒͑̑͐̈́͒̌͒̀̌̏̐́̈̃̀̌͐͐̋̋́̓͌̚͘͘͝C̷̡̭̹̯̪̲̜̞̙͕͔̩̳̫̗̘͈̰͙̫̭̈Ķ̸̛̰̥͈͇͎̣̹̯̱̀̆̍̂̊̀̀͠"

A laugh rips out of you then and you flash him a grin. The one he returns you is positively feral.

“Sorry Moon,” you lick your lips “I guess you’ll just have to keep me in the land of the living until you find another way to get your manga.”

“Blackmail. Extooortion.” He whines flatly.

“Yeah, yeah. Here-“ you laugh and throw him your phone, “seeing as you’re being so cooperative I’ll even let you choose the music.”

He catches it with something of a surprised, almost blank expression. After a second he looks down- dark gaze wincing against the glare of the little screen- he lifts his faceplate up to stare at you.

“Password?” He says blandly.

“Gimme a break Moon I know you’ve had that thing cracked for weeks.”

He doesn’t even have the decency to look abashed at being caught out. Shrugging, he returns his gaze to the little phone, the silicone padding of his long fingers strangely silent as he taps and tinkers with the screen. You turn away to face the crescent Lyra, rolling your shoulders into a long stretch that you chase down your legs to your toes. You jump lightly on the spot, foot to foot and shake out your hands. Your blood is pumping.

Somewhere behind you you hear the speakers buzz to life, and you brace yourself for whatever god-awful media Moon is about to inflict on you. You knew what you were signing up for when you gave him control over your spotify. Come on dude, lets hear the damage.

You are momentarily taken aback as the sound of soft synthwave floods the hall. There is a traitorous flutter twinge in your chest. You ignore it.

Moon was probably just having a joke at your expense. Probably.

Your mouth twitches and you stride forward to grip the lyra, pivoting yourself and the hoop on tips of your toes- your back falling into an elegant arch. You work the crescent into a spin as you mount, tilting your head back at Moon to mouth the word ‘up’. You feel the rope begin to rise.

I see you, you see me How pleasant, this feeling-

As the vocals of the song kick in you lean back into the curve of the crescent- feet splayed to rest against the sharp points of the curve, one arm dangling to brush the air below the hoop. The Man in the Moon - A basic move but your lip curls in private amusement as you recline against the lyra.

The moment, you hold me I missed you, I’m sorry-

You drop a leg down, body loose and heavy as you hold the hoop in a Cradle before collapsing into an Open Delilah- one arm and leg hooked around the bottom of the crescent as the rest of you dangles, arching towards the floor. You sweep your free hand under the calf of your free leg and stretch into a split as you hang, your whole body singing from the strain.

I’ve given, what I have I showed you, I’m growing-

You’ve lost track of Moon and your eyes search out his face as you twirl. There- a pale shadow against the wall, his red gaze thin and dark. You lift yourself out of the splits into a Candlestick- body taught and straight and almost vertical towards the floor as you straddle the crescent with crossed thighs.

The ashes, fall slowly As your voice, consoles me

Taking a breath to steady yourself you unfold a single leg down behind your head to splay your body into dramatic a Candlestick split. You sigh with satisfaction as you hang. Eyes slipping closed. Below you, the chorus crashes through the empty room with an echo.

As the hours pass, I will let you know That I need to ask, before I’m alone How it feels to rest, on your patient lips To eternal bliss, I’m so glad to know-

From the shadows by the wall he watches you. The lights of his eyes smear a trail as you spin, streaming red lines that trace through the air like the back-lights of a car in a storm. Something beautiful, in its own way.

You wind yourself out of the pose, arms tensing to lift yourself back into the embrace of the crescent lyra; your legs an artful languid twist of flesh and metal. You fold your self into a beauty roll, the world spinning around you as you twist inside the crescent, body rolling like a wave that crests from pose to split to pose to hang- this is what you were best at- the fluidity- the dizzying loops that left the watcher wondering where your gravity ended and the lyra began. Spins within spins. Loops within loops. Mermaid. Roll. Gazelle. Split. Roll. Amazon. Roll. High Angel. Roll-

We’re swaying to drum beats In motion, I’m feeling My patience, controlling The question I won’t speak-

You grin into the darkness as your body contorts around the crescent to put all your weight on the top of the lyra. There you hold yourself, your body perfectly vertical, blood rushing gloriously to your face as your breathing slows, deep and heavy.

We’re leaving, we’re talking You’re closer, it’s calming-

As you hang upside down you dare a glance beneath you to where Moon stands beside the crash mat- except he’s so much closer now. Close and silent and still in that way that only an animatronic can be. You flutter yourself into a single leg Scarab as you force the hoop away from your body at a dramatic angle, your gaze never leaving his face.

It’s then that you notice his eyes. The sclera of his visors are that familiar vantablack, only… his pupils are blue. Little lavender blue rings that shiver as they follow you. Locked on you.

You almost fall, your grip on the hoop slipping ever so slightly. You were so used to the red on black and black on red that cycled with his moods that it was jarring to see something so different. His gaze catches yours like a gravity well, and just like that you are caught in the orbit of his eyes. Your heart burns beneath your ribs.

To eternal bliss, I’m so glad to know-

You stay like that, eyes locked together in a trap- seconds pass with only the quivering pain in your muscles to mark the time. Eventually your mortal body is forced to move.

Deftly you uncoil your body until your legs are back beneath you. You finally tear your eyes from Moon as you turn to lay belly down across the crescent, relaxing into a reverse Mermaid that lets you put most of the weight on your hips, rather than your aching arms. The lyra spins languidly, it’s momentum slowing. You close your eyes.

The night will hold us close, and the stars will guide us home-

When you open them, Moon is in-front you. At this height his face is level with yours and he reaches a long arm out to steady the lyra to a stop.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

He tilts his faceplate to one side.

“Spotting you.” His voice is low and you shudder as his fingers ghost along the arch of your back.

I’ve been waiting for this moment, we’re finally alone-

“I’m not done yet.” The words tumble from your mouth like wadded cotton balls; soft, insubstantial. He watches you with lavender eye-lights.

“You’re fatigued.” He says simply- smile parting, affectionate.

You shift your grip on the Lyra.

I turn to ask the question, so anxious, my thoughts-

“Your eyes-” you whisper but the moment the words touch your lips, the pinpricks of his pupils flicker a familiar, violent red. You swallow.

“S t a r l i g h t .” He unfolds a palm around your cheek, tucking your hair behind your ear with one lingering finger. Your hands start to shake. “Time to rest. Time to sleep.”

Your lips were soft like winter, in your passion, I was lost-

You lean into the cold metal of his wrist, just a little- but he withdraws. Your heart drops instantly at the rejection before stuttering as he hooks both hands around your waist- and in one fluid motion pulls you down from the lyra and into his arms.

He holds you there, flush against his chest and you slowly wrap your arms around his neck, your feet hanging in the air.

“Moon- what?” You stutter, face craning up to meet his eyes.

“…Jealous.” He says, eyes sliding back behind you to the glittering crescent moon lyra

“I’m… sorry?” Your voice climbs in confusion and his grin widens, teeth sharp- grip tightening around the flesh of your back.

“Apology accepted.”

Your eyes narrow and you open your mouth to protest but you are stopped short- a single sharp finger pressed against your lips.

“Shh-” He whispers, eyes all black and red and lavender. “Don’t ruin it.”

“Ruin what?” You frown.

He grins. “T h i s .”

And then he kisses you.

His whole body leans into you- face tilted to press cool silicon to your burning mouth. It is a simple thing, all soft and heavy at the same time. A pure, even pressure.

You grip the fabric of his cap with unsteady hands.

“Oh.” You mouth the sound softly into the corner of his smile and he buries his faceplate into your cheek.

Soft white static catches as he says- “…I would, too.”

You furrow your brow and his fingers reach up to trace the crescents of light that his eyes cast across your face. “I would be sad if you fell. I don’t like to think about… things that could hurt you.”

A breathless sigh leaves you, and your eyes soften; a bewildered smile creeping into the corners of your mouth.

“…Does that mean no more lion king?”

The look he gives you is scathing. “I will still drop you.”

“But then you and Sunny would be sad.” You flash him your teeth and his grin stretches.

“Better be on you best behaviour then, Staaaaarlight.”

Oh dear, you were doomed.

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

Loving your work! If I may request a thing, we got Lisa, we got Vlad, can we get an Alucard too???? Have an amazing day!

Ask: Loving your work! If I may request a thing, we got Lisa, we got Vlad, can we get an Alucard too???? Have an amazing day! 

Ask: could you please continue modern reader with lisa and maibe some alucard x reader in there as well

A/N: I keep re-reading the first two parts just because they make me so happy thinking about what might’ve been. Of course, now that I know Lisa and Vlad end up together and are okay- I feel less awful rewatching S1. (That’s a lie, I have to skip that scene every time! 😭)

Fire Cannot Kill A Dragon (Part 3) 

In a flash, you, the good doctor, and the literal fucking Dracula appeared on the stone steps of what you assumed must’ve been their castle home. 

‘Holy fucking shit, this place is fucking huge!’ You couldn't believe what you were seeing. Standing before you was a colossal grotesque-looking castle. Extra towers and additions were maddeningly constructed, stemming from random points. The entire thing looked a holy mess of brick and mortar- a shrine to all that was powerful and wicked. You shuddered just thinking about the kind of beings who must have walked the halls of a structure so largely horrifying.  

Straining your neck back to get a good look, you found yourself wobbling out of the teleportation group hug you were just sandwiched in. 

“Are you alright?” The good doctor, Lisa, asked. 

You guffawed. “Am I, alright? Me?” You looked back and forth between her and the massive castle. Shaking your head in utter disbelief, you answered, “Oh yeah, I’m just peachy. Never better.” 

Dracula paid your sarcasm no mind, clearly having more important things to tend to. Gently, he scooped up his wife before walking towards the immense entrance doors. Much to your continued amazement, the giant doors swung open automatically, as if by a motion sensor, but you knew that couldn't be right. This was like medieval times, they wouldn't have fucking motion sensors and automatic doors just yet. 

You scurried after the two of them, being forced to take extra quick steps to keep up with Dracula’s rather large gait. 

If the outside of the castle was noteworthy, then the inside was incredible. A giant red velvet throne sat in the middle of a central grand staircase. A lavish red carpet with gold trim and marble stone floor work was illuminated with what looked very similar to electric lights. In fact, despite the spectacular architecture, the whole place seemed relatively modern. But that was another impossibility, right? 

“Wow,” you spun around, dazed. “When you said, castle, you weren’t kidding.” 

“I told you,” Lisa answered, calling from somewhere behind her husband’s broad back. 

“So, now what?” You asked, following the two of them up the grand steps. 

“Now you can wait here.” Dracula’s powerful voice reverberated around the otherwise empty throne room. 

Lisa placed a hand on her husband’s chest. “Vlad! She’s injured as well, she needs to come with us.” 

You could hear the broad man grumble but argue nothing further. 

Following the two of them, you walked for what seemed like ages before arriving in a brightly lit laboratory. Once inside the room, you could see there were wooden benches and tables covered in glass vials of varying shapes and sizes and open books strewn across every other available surface. You had no clue what the vials contained, but everything seemed important. And nestled in the farthest corner of the room was a series of cots. 

The giant man that was Dracula appeared to levitate as he wove through the crowded tables before arriving at the nearest cot and placing his wife on the bed. Once she was settled, Lisa gestured for you to come and join her. 

Hesitantly, you walked over to where she was seated, grimacing at an up-close view of her blistering feet. “I uh, know you said you're a doctor, but those look pretty bad.” 

Lisa crossed her left leg, lifting her foot up to get a proper view. She hissed, glancing up at your horrified expression. “They’ll look worse in a couple of days,” she said, before turning her attention to Vlad. 

“My love.” Dracula bent over to kiss his wife on the head, before returning to his imposing full height. “I swear to you, I will do whatever is necessary to make you well. You will not know this pain for long. Whatever you wish for, I will get.” 

Lisa smiled, reaching for his hand. “Always so dramatic.” She said, pressing her soft lips to his clawed fingers. “I can heal this by human medicine alone. I’ve treated patients with worse burns before.” 

“Yes,” Vlad agreed, “But this time is different.” 

Lisa raised her left brow. “Oh? And how is that?” 

“Those stupid, little, puerile human lives were of no consequence- not to me, not to the world. But you…” Dracula stopped mid-sentence, once again dropping down to his wife’s height. “The rest of the world could burn, rot away like the selfish, useless beings they are, and none of it would matter, as long as you were safe in my arms.” 

Lisa pulled her husband’s large hand close to her cheek. “Please,” she begged, “Don’t let this undo all your hard work. I know, somewhere, deep down, you know it’s only because they don’t know any better. You can’t punish them for that. At least for now, please iubirea mea.” 

For what must’ve been the tenth time in the last half-hour, you stood there silently, feeling like the awkward third man out. You spent a moment picking at your fingers before taking in a breath and bravely cutting through the silence.

“So what exactly do you need?” Your words seemed to bring both parties' focus back to the present. 

“I’ll need some honey, my jar of willow bark as well as my willow tincture,” Lisa started. “A cut of aloe vera, and fresh goat's milk. Oh, and the good bandages- the fine linen ones from Egypt. And Vlad, take (Y/N) with you.” 

“Oh no,” you raised your hands in protest. “I don't want to get in the way of anybody or anything. I mean, you probably know the castle like the back of your hand- after all, you are Dracula,” you gestured to the giant vampire before you. “And I’d just get lost, so I should probably just stay here with you,” you finished, speaking to Lisa. 

“On the contrary,” Lisa countered, “I think it’s a perfect opportunity for the two of you to get to know each other. After all, if what my husband said about you is true, I can’t think of anyone better qualified to find you a way home.” 

‘She’s kinda got a point,’ you tilted your head to the side and shrugged your shoulders. “Okay, fine. I guess I’ll just go with your husband then. Dracula, I mean Vlad, uh, I mean Mr. Doctor Tepes.” 

Lisa pursed her lips to stifle her laugh while her husband rolled his eyes. 

“But if he eats me,” you whispered to Lisa before following Vlad out of the room, “It’s all your fault.” 

“Are you coming, silly little human?” Dracula’s contemning voice called expectantly from the hall. 

Speed-walking, you catch up to him just as he begins to ascend yet another staircase. 

“It’s uh (Y/N),” you said, not expecting much of a reaction. 

Dracula paused, causing you to crash right into his enormous rock-solid vampire back. 

‘Shit!’ You lept backward, holding your now smushed nose. ‘Was the guy made of fucking metal or something?’ 

“On second thought,” your voice sounded super nasally, “‘Silly little human’ is fine by me.” 

Dracula turned to face you, slowly, menacingly. At least that's how it felt to you. You supposed there wasn’t much he could do to not appear menacing, even if he tried. 

“Fine then, (Y/N),” he started. 

You shuddered at the sound of your own name. 

“Be useful and fetch the goat’s milk. Go back down the way we came. On the first floor instead of going right, go left. There’s a kitchen off the main hall. A little past that, there’s a door to the outside where two Bezoar goats are tied.” 

You nodded furiously, determined not to spite the supernatural man any further before speed walking to the staircase. 

A few moments later you were once again back on what Dracula referred to as ‘the first floor’, even if that made zero sense to you because as you recalled, you went up like two-and-a-half stairs just to get there in the first place, but whatever. You shrugged your shoulders.  

Traversing down the rather long hallway on your quest for the kitchen, you found yourself wondering if sticking around in this time period might be so bad after all. I mean to be fair, you weren't in some godforsaken village, surrounded by peasants covered in shit and burlap, no! You were in a literal frickin’ castle with the actual frickin’ Dracula as your host. 

‘Things could be worse,’ you reminded yourself. ‘I mean- hey!’ Coming upon the kitchen, you nearly jumped for joy. “Finally!” 

You slowed your pace, and kept walking, on the lookout for that exit Dracula mentioned. You found the dramatic door discreetly nestled in an equally elegant wall. You were impressed. It was becoming more and more clear to you that vampires certainly had an eye for the dramatic. 

Pushing through the heavy door, you were pleasantly surprised to find yourself standing on a tidied veranda where two goats stood happily munching on a bale of hay. 

‘Well, that’s convenient.’ You walked over to where the goats were tied. “Um, hi,” you waved. 

The goats said nothing. Not that you expected them to say anything, but maybe, at least, make some sort of goat noise in response. 

You tapped one on the back. “Excuse me, can I go get some milk, is that okay?” 

The goat continued munching. 

“Alright,” you slowly bent over, picking up one of the empty metal buckets that had been put off to the side. “So, I’m just gonna grab this guy here. And just come on down here.” You slowly kneeled next to one of the goats, peeking under them. You frowned, not exactly confident in your knowledge of goat anatomy. 

Taking a calming breath, you cast your apprehensions aside. Lisa was counting on you. And you really didn't want to give Dracula any more reason to hate you.

‘Okay, just find an udder and squeeze.’ 

Was that right? You had no idea. 

The goats didn’t seem to mind what you were doing however, so you continued on until you had gotten what you hoped was enough for whatever the doctor had in mind. 

“Alright then,” you stood, taking care to pat both of the goats. “Um, good job, er, thank you?” 

Again, the goats gave your presence no response. They merely stood there, continuing to much on their hay. 

Huffing, you and the bucket made your way back inside. ‘Don’t know why I fucking bother.’ 

Back inside the castle, you began the arduous trek back up to the laboratory. 

You were across from the laboratory entrance when you caught something white out of the corner of your eye. You assumed it was yet another grand tapestry you had missed on your initial walk-up, so you turned to get a better look, not expecting much. 

Boy, were you wrong. 

‘Holy fucking shit, that’s a wolf!’ 

A rather large and beastly-looking white wolf stood not ten feet from both you and the laboratory door. Its amber eyes regarded you with a glint of somewhat hostile curiosity. Not that it mattered to you. You were already so the hell outta there. 

Making a mad dash for it, you sprinted into the laboratory and slammed the doors shut behind you. The resounding noise called both Lisa's and Dracula’s attention over to you immediately. 

“Okay, so no one panic, but there is a wild animal in the hallway.” 

A very concerned Lisa and a very unamused Vlad shared a look. 

“You brought the goat with you?” She asked. “I doubt those were my husband’s instructions but that’s certainly not a reason to panic.” 

Overall, Dracula paid your outburst no mind. He merely went back to sorting supplies on the cot next to his wife. 

“Not a goat!” You whispered harshly. 

Lisa rolled her head to the side in sudden realization. Her worried expression melted away into a knowing smile. “Adrian,” she said to Vlad. 

“Mhm,” Dracula nodded, handing his wife a cleaning cloth. “The boy did always know how to make an entrance.” 

Lisa smirked, playfully poking her husband. “He gets that from you.” 

You put your head in your hands, frustratedly pulling the skin down as you ran your hands down your face. “Hold on, hold on… Let me get this straight. You,” you pointed to Lisa, “Are a doctor and you’re married to Dracula, aka you.” You then pointed at him. “And you said you had a son-” 

“Adrian,” Lisa interrupted. 

“Right, right. Adrian, who,” you pointed at the still closed door, “Is a werewolf?!” 

Dracula shook his head, disappointedly. “He’s half vampire, not half werewolf.” He handed his wife a small glass vial, invariably turning his attention back to her. “I thought you said she was rather clever for a human.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Look, all I know is that behind this door is a giant scary…” You swung open the lab door to demonstrate your point, only to come face to face with the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

Squeaking in shock, you slammed the door shut once again. 

“Could you please,” Dracula hissed out, “Stop slamming the door?” 

Inwardly you cringed. “Sorry,” you apologized sheepishly. 

“Excuse me,” a suave voice spoke from behind the door. “But do you not wish for me to enter?” 

“Adrian, darling! Of course, you can enter,” Lisa called to her son from where she lay resting on the cot. “(Y/N)’s just a little frightened that’s all.” 

You backed up, opening the door and allowing the actual freaking Adonis-looking figure before you to enter. 

God was he gorgeous. Like an elf, but in real life. He was tall and slender, but you could see the strength of his muscles from the strip of bare cleavage, left exposed by his loose white shirt and open black coat. His hair was the color of sunshine, so similar to his Mother’s. And his slender eyes reminded you of Dracula’s small but strong piercing ones. 

Walking past you, the stranger, well this Adrian, paid you little mind. Much like the goats and his Father, he didn’t even acknowledge you or say hello. 

‘Seriously?,’ you thought, ‘Is there something wrong with the men in this family?’ 

“Mother…” This Adrian fellow fell to his knees at the foot of Lisa’s cot. You watched his upper body begin to shake with sobs. 

Once again, you stood there awkwardly, silently watching the emotional scene unfold before you. 

As his son and wife continued their embrace, Dracula walked over to collect the bucket from you. 

“I uh, hope that’s enough.” You said. 

The great vampire nodded. “It will suffice for now.” He then headed over to a nearby table, where a stack of fresh linen bandages waited. A long-clawed finger beckoned you over. “Here,” he handed you several bandages, “Soak these in there.” 

“Uh, sure.” You started methodically adding dry bandages to the bucket, soaking them, and wringing them out so that they were saturated but wouldn’t drip. Every couple of bandages or so, you stopped to check up on the other two in the room. 

By the time you had finished dipping the bandages, the crying seemed to be over. 

‘Thank god.’ 

Once you finished, Dracula brought most of the linens back over to his wife. 

“Adrian,” Lisa wiped away the remainder of her tears with a sleeve of her Speakers robe. “Could you help (Y/N), while your Father continues helping me? She’s been burned too.” 

“Oh no,” you shook your head in protest. “I’m fine really.” But with the thought now in your head, it was impossible to ignore the growing pain in your feet. “Ow, shit.” Defeated, you grimaced, the reality of your wounds finally starting to sink in. 

Moving slowly, you removed your robe before taking a seat on the edge of one of the tables. Without the heavy fabric on the way you were able to cross your leg and bring your foot up, you frowned at the sight and smell of melted pleather. ‘Ugh. Well, that’s attractive.’

“Allow me,” slender hands appeared before you and began unlacing your boots. 

You looked up to find the impossibly gorgeous Adrian Tepes standings before you, now sans coat, seemingly ready to get down to the business of helping you. 

“Actually, there’s a zipper.” You said, turning your foot the other way to unzip your boot. “The laces are just for show.” 

Adrian nodded. “Fascinating.” 

“Yeah, I’m guessing those don’t show up until later.” 

Curious, Adrian looked over at his father. 

Dracula just shook his head. “(Y/N) claims to be from the future.” 

Adrian turned back to you, regarding you more skeptically. 

“The future or an alternate universe,” you supplied. “Not really sure which one yet.” 

“Future or not, you should allow me to remove those boots. There’s a good chance they’ve melded to your skin.” 

“What? No way,” you shook your head and proceeded to rip your boot off. Immediately, you felt a searing pain rip across the bottom of your foot. 

“Motherfucker!” You yelled, the pain so sudden and unexpected, you no longer cared about impressing your current company. 

Adrian, grabbed a sharp blade from the collection of items on the table next to you, seemingly indifferent to your new choice of language. “Told you.” 

“Wait, wait, wait! That doesn’t mean you have to cut my foot off.” You began scooching away from him. 

“This is to cut your other shoe off.” 

“Oh.” You stopped trying to escape. “Well, that makes more sense.” 

“Hmm,” Adrian hummed, getting started on carefully cutting away your other boot. “Your burns are less severe than my Mother’s, but they will still need cleaning and treatment.” 

You sucked in a deep breath as a particularly painful piece of the boot came off your skin. “Okay,” you managed to gasp out. “That’s fine.” 

“I want to thank you,” he continued. “For saving my Mother’s life.” 

“Oh, it was nothing,” you shrugged off his gratitude. “Really, I just did what any good person would’ve done.” 

“You did more,” Adrian took one of your hands in his. “Much more. Possibly more than you’ll ever know,” he glanced over at his Father. “The world owes you a great debt.” 

You half-laughed. “Oh, I don’t know about that.” 

“Perhaps. But at the very least, I, we, owe you a debt.” 

“A debt sounds like too much…” You argued. 

“Well,” Adrian thought for a moment, “How about a favor?” 

You nodded, slowly, coming around to the idea. “I could accept a favor.” 

“It’s a deal then,” Adrian held his hand outstretched for you to shake. 

You shook his hand before clicking your tongue and raising one of your burnt feet. “Do you think I could use that favor to try and keep my feet from turning necrotic and falling off?” 

The glamorous man that was Adrian grinned. “I should think so.” 

You smiled right back at him. “Then I would like that, I think.” 

He nodded, reaching for a dry bandage. “I think I’d, I mean we, would like that too.” 

┈

A/N: Do you notice how each installation in this series gets about 1k longer??? There should be a word for that. Also, kind of thinking up part 4, like maybe Adrian’s still worried about his dad’s plans because Dracula invites his generals to the castle so Adrian and (Y/N) set out to find a hunter & a scholar just in case they need to save Wallachia??? Not sure. Let me know. 

Translations: iubirea mea = my love 

Recipe for Lisa’s Burn Treatment: Honey (found in eastern Europe), tannins from Weeping Willow bark & tea (also found in eastern Europe), Aloe Vera (from Oman in northeastern Africa, which is southwest of Romania, and a port of trade as it’s by the Persian Gulf), and milk-soaked bandages made of fine linen (from Egypt). Remember- the castle’s a giant traveling machine. Sources for this Mostly Historically Accurate Burn Treatments (which is probably still horribly inaccurate but oh well): [x], [x], [x]

[motionsensorlights]

Buy Motions Sensor Light for Smart Home Solutions

Our intelligent lighting management systems and range of motion sensor switches prevent wastage of electricity, thus lowering energy consumption and cost.

[sensinova]

Switch to Savings! with IRIS-20 Enery-Saving at Sensinova

It's time to switch to savings with Sensinova. Taking small steps and choosing the right alternatives can help you cut heavy bills. Saving energy not only means saving on electricity bills but also helping the environment.

To know more, visit us at: sensinova.in, or to schedule a free consultation, contact us on 9586774775.

C K Patel Estate, Survey Number 372, Opp Tata Motors Service Centre, Near Rama Kaka Deri, Chhani, Vadodara – 391740

[sirfrogsworth]

I'm still slumping 2 weeks after my last movie outing.

I've been reconsidering going to movies as my way to escape the house.

It requires about 40 minutes of driving plus 2.5 hours at the theater. It's just too much time upright for me. And I feel the consequences are only worth maybe once a month. Once a week was too much. Though I feel like I still need to get out of the house more than once a month to keep sane.

My other idea was to take little photography trips. I could find a location that might make for some cool photos. I can limit myself to 30 minutes or something. And then I head home.

It's possible I might be getting some backpay if my disability increase is approved. I'm probably going to save most of it. But I am considering getting myself something that I normally wouldn't be able to. I miss photography almost more than regularly making comedy. So maybe I'll get a nice camera and a lens.

I've always had to get mid level APS-C cameras. They were the best I could afford. Which were great and I was able to get professional results. Some people think if you get a better camera your photos will magically be better. But better cameras do not automatically give you better image quality. They make it *easier* to get better image quality, especially in challenging circumstances.

For instance, on a fancy camera with really good sensor stabilization, you can take photos in dark environments without a tripod. That is a huge convenience, especially for a disabled photographer.

Or eye-tracking autofocus can assure you get perfect focus on every shot. I used to have to take dozens of extra photos for safety because it was difficult to check focus on that tiny screen. That added a lot of time to my sessions. Now I could take fewer pictures which helps save time while photographing but also at home when I am editing.

A bigger sensor makes it easier to get background blur and you can be closer to your subject in cramped spaces. And you don't need expensive prime lenses to get the same blur as an f/2.8 or whatever. So I can have smaller, lighter, and more affordable lenses that achieve similar quality.

So a better camera doesn't make you a better photographer. It is more like changing a video game's difficulty from hard to medium.

The only bummer is that I loved working with artificial lighting. That was an art form on its own. Shaping light was so fascinating and the resulting images just looked unreal. But it requires a ton of extra time and energy. So I will probably have to become a natural light photographer. But that presents a lot of fun challenges too. There is no photography I don't love, so I'll be okay. I just miss my lights.

I may not be able to afford a new fun thing at all. So I am not getting my hopes up or anything. But if I could do photography again and improve my mental health, I think that might be a worthy investment.

[sl-walker]

Neither Fox Nor Rose (ST:TOS, Arc of the Wolf) for the ask game please!

Ooh, boy. The story that goes after Forty-Eight, which was and remains the hardest tale I've ever told. Neither Fox Nor Rose refers to The Little Prince, sort of roundabout, and the discussion between the Little Prince and the Fox. In a part of the story not yet written, Mel Corrigan tells Corry that Scotty's not his fox nor his rose, and she's referring to that. And it's sort of-- not a refutation of the (paraphrased) line, "You are forever responsible for what you have tamed," exactly, but pointing out (correctly) that Cor's and Scotty's relationship is a helluva lot more complicated, and that it's also pretty erroneous to ever consider Scotty 'tamed'.

And that ties into a few scenes towards the end of this story, not quite written yet (though well known), where Cor tells Scotty that wolves and dogs are genetically almost identical. So-- what's the difference between them? And Scotty -- out of his head on narcotics and probably frankly also on anxiety medication -- says that the difference is that wolves don't need humans the way dogs do. Cor replies that that means the first wolf had to have chosen to come to the light of man's fire, and Scotty answers, "Not just once. The first wolf to the fire woulda had to have made that choice over an' over again."

Anyway! For a snippet (which takes place between those two yet unwritten scenes):

--

The sea fog weighed everything down as dusk fell; ghostly beyond it, the lights of homes intermittently faded into the dim radius of their constricted world, then out again.  Against the darkening sky, the evergreens and bare branches reached up and out, leaving the road a slick ribbon navigable by sight and sensor both, as it vanished into the silhouettes.

The decision to stay down on the peninsulas, hopping from one to the other on old backroads, wasn’t discussed; Corry didn’t need to speak up to know that both of them wanted to stay down there in the fog, bypassing even the relative gentleness of Damariscotta and Newcastle in the off-season.  Instead, he wove them along Splitrock Road and, where it ran into Bristol Road, stopped at the old, gray-boarded general store long enough to get a cup of hot chocolate for himself and a cup of ginger and mint tea for Scotty.

It wasn't exactly routine, but not too far from it; they had often ended up running the roads before, and if this particular time was heavier, then at least they were together for it.

Exchanging small talk in the store (New England politeness in full force) was a rote action that Corry went through, taking comfort in the normalcy of it even as he spoke the words automatically, the usual questions and answers, the gentle routine of it; when he came back out, the lids of the cups steaming in the thick and wet air, Scotty had his window down and his arms folded on the door, chin resting on those.

He blended well into the near-night, all gaunt highlights and shadows, but there was something softer written even in those stark lines than Corry had seen in quite some time; when Cor got back into the driver’s seat, only then did Scotty sit back again to take the offered tea, the barest wince accompanying the motion. “What did ye say those were?  A kind o’ tree frog, aye?”

It took Corry a couple of long moments of combing through those words before he was able to make full sense of them and pull up the memory they related to; he’d been so caught up in his own thoughts that he hadn’t even noticed the peepers singing in the twilight.

It was a sound he had looked forward to whole-heartedly every remembered year of his life.  He wondered what it meant that he hadn’t even caught onto it this time.

“Peepers,” he said, closing his eyes for a moment, not only to mark the sound of them calling into the dark, but to mark the conversation they’d first come up in, years ago.  Him and Scotty in the Wôbanakik Preserve, hiking together on a sunny autumn Saturday; it might as well have been a different lifetime altogether, for all that had happened since.  “I mean, I’m sure they have a scientific name, but we just call ‘em peepers.”

Scotty made a quiet noise in the affirmative, a low hum, and they sat sipping their drinks for another unmarked piece of time before he spoke again, “I hacked her jacuzzi.”

That had Corry looking over, caught off-guard; he was too wrecked internally to smile about it, but he could feel some small jolt of baffled amusement at the words anyway.  “To what end?”

“Pain relief.”  Scotty quirked his eyebrows, looking out the windshield and absently shoving his overgrown hair back out of his way, though to no avail. “Upped the salinity in it well past protocol so I could float.  Meant I had to cycle the cleaning system far more regularly than it'd normally call for, but it's none the worse for wear.”

“Did floating hurt less?” Corry asked, taking in his brother’s profile, heart aching in all too familiar ways at the thought of that pain.

Scotty seemed to think about it for a moment, narrowing his eyes, then said, “Hurt different.  A little less, but mostly different.  Not quite so localized.”

"And now?"

"More tolerable'n usual."  There was a beat, then Scotty added, "I went over to Boothbay Harbor with yer father."

The fact that Scotty had been in Maine often enough and long enough that there was no 'r' left in harbor, even used in the same sentence as over or father, made Cor smile for real, briefly, and made something ache in his chest.  At least until all of the implications of those words sank in.

Dad had been going over there for his monthly pulmonary workup for years now, ever since he’d retired.  He wasn’t ready to commit to a lung transplant because he was mostly able to change his lifestyle enough that the residual damage was manageable without too much disruption.  But that did mean he went to St. Andrews regularly to keep up on it, especially because he was the first person to ever be infected by that specific strain of bacteria and live to tell about it.

There were papers written about him on file; given his own field, Corry had some very mixed feelings about that.

But if Scotty went with Dad, that meant he probably didn't just go along for the ride itself. "What did they find?  And prescribe?  And recommend?" Corry asked, once he was sure he could do it with a neutral-to-positive tone that didn't give away his own, probably sad question of why didn't you let me take you?

Scotty answered the second one first; he pulled an orange prescription bottle out of his (borrowed? permanently appropriated?) coat’s pocket.  After Cor took it, looking over the label -- and noting that the address under Scotty's name was 139 West Side Road and not 22 West Side Road, where he was currently staying -- he said, a little reluctantly, "They only did a quick tricorder scan, so it only got so detailed.  But aside wantin' to do more in-depth scans to confirm it, they figure all that new bone they put me back together with in Baltimore, especially where it was knit to hardware, is micro-fractured all through.”  He worked his jaw for a moment, then admitted, “There were a few larger cracks that were lit up, too.  Not gettin’ into the connective stuff, anyway."

Corry barely held down a shudder, before finally managing to absorb the rest of the prescription label; it was a pretty hefty anti-inflammatory, the kind you could only get from a doctor.  Two weeks worth, presumably to give Scotty time to make some decisions without really letting him kick the whole thing even further down the road.

Cor wasn’t too surprised, though.  Even when they bolted from Maryland, he knew that his brother wasn’t going to heal without actual, active, professional medical care.  He just-- hadn’t anticipated the amount of time it would take before Scotty would even be tentatively willing to seek it.

Then again, now that he knew more, it wasn’t so hard to see why.  No matter how godawful it had been, having to wait and watch and note the inevitable deterioration.  Or the torment of knowing how much it had to hurt and being unable to do a single damn thing to help.

He handed the bottle back over, breathing out. “That’s a-- lot.  To get confirmation on.”

Scotty shrugged, though there wasn't really anything dismissive or casual about the gesture, even if his tone was firmly entrenched between those two as if he could downplay his own words.  "Aye.  And apparently I've lost seven and a half kilos somewhere between now and the last record they've got access to."

That also wasn't any real surprise; the numbers, not the fact of it.  Cor could see it especially on Scotty’s face, the softer curves and lines whittled down in a way that didn’t quite fit him; mostly, he was always too bundled up to see it anywhere else.  Another thing that Corry had been fretting over and was unable to do anything about.

“Maybe having the pain under better control will help with that,” he said, still stepping carefully.

“Maybe.  First thing I’ve had in hand that hasn’t seemed like some manner o’ self-punishment,” Scotty replied, saluting with the cup of tea, the two tags fluttering against the side.  “I mean, yer mother brought food, and the soup wasn’t too hard, but...”

He trailed off there; Corry had little trouble filling in the gaps.  

He wished he knew what to say.  Instead, though, he started the skimmer again; figured to drive a little more, maybe in the hopes that he’d be able to leave his heart-soreness in the parking lot and just let himself be relieved that they were talking and together.

[giantimpex]

Are you looking for Microwave #MotionSensor Electric Switch ? No more need of switching on and off your ever time our ener your home or room .you need not worry about electricity as the lights get automatically on when there is person and automatically off when there is no person.

Ask for GIANT IMPEX Body Motion Detector Light #sensorlight About this item

Energy-saving and easy installation.

Plastic material 5)color-white and item weight-180gm

Delay adjustment: 10 Seconds - 7 Minutes

A switch will connect the load until the user departs the sensor range

Available in #Amazon, #Meesho and #Flipkart Order Now:

Amazon

Flipkart

https://www.flipkart.com/giant-impex-proliving-microwave-radar-lux-sensor-light-body-motion-detector-plastic-3-electrical-switch/p/itmf81d9c0cbb2ca?pid=SCHGGCSNAHWMUYTA&lid=LSTSCHGGCSNAHWMUYTAYSD2YP&marketplace=FLIPKART&q=giant+impex&store=search.flipkart.com&srno=s_1_12&otracker=search&otracker1=search&fm=Search&iid=a3075a36-4df0-4ba6-b4ac-747756b5d314.SCHGGCSNAHWMUYTA.SEARCH&ppt=sp&ppn=sp&ssid=boqg4dc5400000001726483440920&qH=852d7bd6eb84a156

meesho

Visit Our Store: Get 20% Off on Sale price. Use Promo Code 'GIANT20' https://giantimpex.in/smart-lighting/proliving-microwave-radar-LUX-sensor-light-body-motion-detector

[lightupnashvilletn]

Exploring Various Outdoor Light Fixtures for Your Home

Outdoor lighting is an essential aspect of any home's exterior, providing both functional and aesthetic benefits. The right outdoor light fixtures can enhance your home's curb appeal, improve safety, and create a welcoming atmosphere. Whether you're looking to illuminate your garden, patio, or driveway, understanding the different types of outdoor light fixtures is key to making the best choice for your needs. In this guide, we'll explore various outdoor lighting options, their purposes, and the advantages they offer.

Wall-Mounted Fixtures

Definition and Purpose

Wall-mounted fixtures are installed on the exterior walls of your house. These fixtures provide general illumination for entryways, patios, and driveways, making them an essential component of your outdoor lighting plan.

Types of Wall-Mounted Fixtures

Sconces: These are mounted on the wall and come in various designs, from traditional to modern, providing both functional and decorative lighting.

Lanterns: Often used in pairs flanking a door, lanterns add a classic, timeless look while providing ample light.

Bulkhead Lights: These are robust, weather-resistant fixtures that provide bright light in harsh outdoor conditions.

Advantages

Enhances Security: Well-lit entryways and driveways deter potential intruders.

Adds Aesthetic Appeal: Stylish wall-mounted fixtures can complement your home's architecture and enhance its overall look.

Pathway Lights

Definition and Purpose

Pathway lights are designed to illuminate walkways, garden paths, and driveways, ensuring safe navigation and adding a decorative touch to your landscape.

Types of Pathway Lights

Solar-Powered: These are easy to install and eco-friendly, relying on sunlight to charge during the day and illuminate at night.

Low-Voltage: Connected to a central transformer, low-voltage lights provide consistent illumination with minimal energy use.

LED: Known for their energy efficiency and long lifespan, LED pathway lights are a durable and bright option.

Advantages

Ensures Safe Navigation: Lit paths prevent trips and falls, enhancing safety.

Adds a Decorative Touch: Pathway lights highlight landscaping features and create a charming ambiance.

Floodlights

Definition and Purpose

Floodlights provide broad, powerful illumination, making them ideal for security purposes. These fixtures cover large areas, such as backyards, driveways, and building facades.

Types of Floodlights

Motion-Sensor: Activated by movement, these lights are energy-efficient and excellent for security.

Halogen: Offering bright, intense light, halogen floodlights are effective but consume more energy.

LED: Energy-efficient and long-lasting, LED floodlights provide bright, clear illumination.

Advantages

Deters Intruders: Bright, sudden light from motion-sensor floodlights can scare off potential intruders.

Covers Large Areas: Ideal for illuminating expansive spaces, ensuring visibility and security.

String Lights

Definition and Purpose

String lights are primarily decorative, adding a festive and cozy atmosphere to outdoor spaces such as patios, decks, and gardens.

Types of String Lights

Solar-Powered: These lights charge during the day and automatically turn on at night, perfect for eco-friendly decoration.

Battery-Operated: Flexible and portable, these lights can be placed anywhere without the need for a power outlet.

Plug-In: These provide consistent power and are ideal for permanent installations.

Advantages

Creates a Festive Ambiance: String lights add charm and warmth, perfect for outdoor gatherings.

Easy to Install: Simple to set up and versatile, they can be used in various outdoor settings.

Spotlights

Definition and Purpose

Spotlights provide focused lighting to highlight specific features such as trees, statues, or architectural details, adding visual interest to your landscape.

Types of Spotlights

LED: Energy-efficient and bright, LED spotlights are suitable for highlighting key features.

Solar-Powered: Convenient and eco-friendly, these lights charge during the day and illuminate at night.

Low-Voltage: These offer consistent light output and are ideal for long-term installations.

Advantages

Enhances Landscaping: Spotlights bring attention to the most beautiful parts of your garden or yard.

Adds Visual Interest: Focused light creates dramatic effects and depth.

Deck and Step Lights

Definition and Purpose

Deck and step lights provide illumination for decks, patios, and steps, enhancing safety and usability in these areas.

Types of Deck and Step Lights

Recessed: Installed flush with the surface, these lights are discreet and provide focused illumination.

Surface-Mounted: These are attached to the surface and provide bright, direct light.

LED: Energy-efficient and long-lasting, LED lights are ideal for high-traffic areas.

Advantages

Increases Safety: Well-lit steps and decks prevent accidents.

Enhances Outdoor Living Spaces: Creates a welcoming and functional outdoor environment.

Post Lights

Definition and Purpose

Post lights are mounted on tall posts and are used to light driveways, pathways, and garden areas. They add a touch of elegance and provide ample light for large areas.

Types of Post Lights

Solar-Powered: These are easy to install and environmentally friendly.

Hardwired: Provide consistent power and are ideal for permanent installations.

LED: Durable and energy-efficient, LED post lights are a practical choice for long-term use.

Advantages

Adds Elegance: Post lights enhance the beauty of your outdoor spaces with their classic look.

Provides Ample Light: Ensures visibility and safety over large areas.

Conclusion

Choosing the right outdoor light fixtures from Light Up Nashville can transform your home's exterior, enhancing its beauty, functionality, and security. From wall-mounted fixtures and pathway lights to floodlights and string lights, there are many options to suit your needs and preferences. Understanding the different types of fixtures and their benefits will help you create a well-lit, inviting outdoor space.

FAQs

Q: What type of outdoor light fixtures are best for security?

A: Floodlights, especially those with motion sensors, are excellent for security. They provide broad, powerful illumination that can deter potential intruders.

Q: Can I use indoor light bulbs in my outdoor fixtures?

A: It's important to use bulbs rated for outdoor use, as they are designed to withstand weather conditions and temperature changes. Outdoor-rated LED bulbs are a great choice for durability and efficiency.

Q: How can I make my outdoor lighting more energy-efficient?

A: Opt for LED bulbs, which consume less energy and have a longer lifespan. Solar-powered lights are also an eco-friendly option that can reduce energy consumption.

Q: What is the best way to highlight my garden's landscape features?

A: Use spotlights to focus on key features such as trees, statues, or water. These lights create dramatic effects and add visual interest to your garden.

Ready to enhance your outdoor space with the perfect lighting? Visit our store or website for a wide selection of outdoor light fixtures. For expert advice and customized lighting solutions, contact us today and let us help you illuminate your home with style and efficiency!