#V-Blocks for Tool room

[itsswritten]

just some flowery fun

Pairing: Azriel x fem fairy reader

Word Count: 4.7K

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral fem receiving, p in v, flower sex.

Summary: There's one final fairy custom yet to complete. And it involves, you, Azriel and a flower.

Wings Universe - more from your favourite couple here.

Azriel found you on the outskirts of a night court meadow, the one where every kind of flower seemed to bloom. It was as if a rainbow had been painted across the land, as shades of coral, emerald and indigo overwhelmed the earth. Amongst all the colour and distraction, he noticed you though. No matter where you were, even if you were hidden, he would always find you. That blush coloured glow you unknowingly emitted, had trapped him like a siren’s call long ago. 

Azriel watched you from a distance, crouched down, pulling little mushrooms to put in your basket. He wondered if you were collecting them for dinner or if you’d trade them at the market in the morning.

You looked so beautiful under the evening sun. The beacon in the sky, casting it’s golden hues across the land. The light flickering through your rosy wings that were unfurled behind you. 

“Sorry I’m late my love,” Azriel spoke softly, his steps crunching through the forest grounds to meet you at the woodland border.

You had already known he was near, if it wasn’t that glowing bond that always seemed to tell you when he was close by, it was his little shadows who would often sprint ahead to meet you before their master. The little wisps were already threading their way through your hair, some helping you with your task at hand. Hastily picking the mushrooms and placing them in your basket neatly. 

There were a few that were also a little impatient at times, perhaps a direct reflection of their master. You always saw his shadows imitating parts of him, parts he tried to keep hidden, even parts he felt embarrassed to show. 

There was his nurturing side, how he always wanted to take care of you and support you. His shadows would often help you with tasks, or carry your tools for you. There was his playful side, a somewhat rare appearance but his shadows often liked toy and tease you. And of course there was his obsessive side, now only amplified by the mating bond– and the exact reason why some of his shadows were so desperate for you to see Azriel instantly. 

The little tendril pulled your hand with a desperate tug as it sensed Azriel near, his voice singing through the trees to reach you. But you didn’t relent to its touch, finishing your task at hand as you felt your mate step beside you.

The shadows were like impatient little children, they would learn– with time.

A gentle smile spread across your lips, your hand coming above your brow to block the sun as you glanced up towards your beautiful mate. The golden hour reflecting off those hazel eyes you loved so much.

“You’re not late, don’t worry,” You reassured him, moving to your feet, your head still craning to look at your Illyrian giant of a lover.

It was only a mere second before Azriel’s arms engulfed you, his wings following suit as they wrapped around protectively. Shadows swirling around in delight that you were both finally reunited– you’d have thought by their reaction that it had been days. 

No, only a mere eight hours.

But you allowed this. Didn’t pull away. Because if there was anyone more deserving of these kind of touches, it was Azriel. 

You would always indulge him, never pull away first.

If he had his way, he would be attached to you at the hip. There were definitely some adjustments that were made when you first came back from your mating trip. Despite the mating frenzy supposedly being over, Azriel’s clinginess never seemed to dissipate. There was something about touching you that calmed him in a way nothing else ever could.

So he actively seeked it out.

It was such an interesting revelation to his family. The usual brooding stoic Shadowsinger, who preferred to accompany a quiet corner of a room or a boring wall– was quite fond of public displays of affection. Maybe it was the clinginess, or his possessiveness wanting to lay claim for everyone to see, but Azriel couldn’t stop touching you.

There were plenty of times your found-family would watch their brother follow you like a lost puppy, hands and shadows always reaching for some skin-to-skin connection.

It was endearing really, and well…you loved his touch too much to ever reject it.

After a few moments, you felt Azriel press his lips atop of your head, felt him inhale your scent before allowing his wings to unwrap and loosen his grip on you. Although, his hand had found its way to the small of your back, keeping you close while his other hand gently brushed the hair from your face. His fingers softly adjusting the flowers you’d braided into your hair that morning.

With a slight tilt of your chin, your lips brushed against his wrist. Leaving a light kiss across the delicate skin, causing a lazy smile to grow across his tan face. A smile he only ever showed when he felt calm, safe and content.

The meadows were quieter now, evenings were always a little softer. A change in shift patterns meant fewer fairies roamed and of course the day creatures were getting settled for slumber. 

A breeze flowed that scent of night-chilled air and cedar that could send you into a slumber or a frenzy depending on your mood. You closed your eyes for a moment, to allow yourself to fully embrace that sense. As if the sense of sight might just distract you from its loveliness.

“Now…will you tell me why I had to meet you here? Not that I mind picking you up from work. But I didn’t think we were doing this anymore,” Azriel questioned, wondering why you had been so adamant he met you here.

The pad on his thumb trailing across your lashes gently before you fluttered them open again in a hum.

Originally after you’d accepted the bond, Azriel had been insistent on taking you to work, picking you up from work and well… not ever leaving your side. It rapidly became apparent that you had a slight problem. 

Not that you didn’t love your mates company, god's no. Azriel was your favourite person to be with. But you were dedicated to your work, in fact a little finicky when it came to it…and your prowling possessive mate would sometimes complicate things.

There was also the fact Azriel was skipping his own duties, taking delegating to a whole new level. Not once in his life had he ever delegated his workload to others, but after the mating frenzy he fully embraced it. Something the Spymaster never thought he would do.

But you see Azriel would do anything to spend more time with you.

Including skipping  work.

It had taken a long but soft conversation to come to the agreement you’re at now. A lot of hushed disagreements and finally some whispered promises that you would be okay if he wasn’t always by your side.

But of course Azriel knew you would be okay. It was he who could barely function without you. 

You had both settled on a compromise, one you knew Rhys was also incredibly happy with. Especially as the way Azriel was heading, it seemed as though a retirement was a more likely outcome.

Azriel would take you to work, and on every fifth day he was allowed to join you for lunch in the meadows. But, and this was important, you would commute home with your friends, meeting Azriel in the city before coming home. 

You loved your friends, your community of fairies. This part of your life was so incredibly important to you, and you were so ingrained in the culture that you weren’t willing to compromise on it, especially not to satisfy a needy– sometimes simply horny– mate.

He would survive.

Most fairies lived out in the meadows, but some, just like you and Elodie lived in the city. Preferring the hustle and bustle of Velaris.

It wasn’t just Rhys, and Elodie who were happy to get more time with their friends again. A lot of your fellow male fairies were extremely pleased and grateful, to not have the deadly Spymaster glaring at their backs while they worked.

It was intimidating for sure, but you couldn’t deny that you’d thought it was actually a little attractive. You never told him though, knowing it would have made him throw in the towel and retire right then and there. Choosing to spend the rest of his days as your own personal bodyguard. 

“Hmm oh yes, well there was something I wanted to ask you Az,”

Azriel quirked his brow in question.

“You’ve been so dedicated to embracing my culture and customs…but,” you said with a slight smirk, your fingers trailing down to the daisy chain bracelet that was wrapped around your mate’s wrist.

Your fingers touched him lightly as he peered down at the flowers with a frown.

Had he done something wrong? Perhaps he’d been wearing the flowers incorrectly or not simply not wearing enough? It wasn’t a difficult adjustment, just different. Azriel wanted to so desperately fit into your world, that as soon as he noticed not just the females but male fairies wearing flowers everyday, he took it upon himself to try.

Try and incorporate those little buds of colour into his very dark wardrobe. 

His first attempt, weaving them into his hair caused quite the reaction from his brothers. Rhys and Cassian howling when he came into a meeting one day.

Instead you had started making him jewellery made from flowers, them being a more subtle touch that spoke of the type of mate he had.

As if reading his thoughts, or perhaps he’d pushed it down the bond you spoke quickly. Wanting to reassure him. “You’ve done nothing wrong my love, so far from it in fact…but there was something else I wanted us to do together…”

“Anything.” Azriel blurted out in a hurry, the word swifting off his tongue like a smoke caught on a breeze.

Anything, anything, anything. His shadows sung in unison.

You chuckled lightly to yourself, at how your beautiful mate would do absolutely anything to please you. You couldn’t deny you relished in that a little. The power you held over the oh-so-scary Spymaster. That you could have him crumbling to his knees at just a smile or a please. 

Or sometimes nothing at all. Sometimes he would wake up and sink himself down on you, muttering whispers like a prayer as he worshipped you with his words, fingers, tongue, co—.

“Really Azriel? Anything?” The switch in your tone caused goosebumps to rise on azriel’s skin, the sultry melody of your voice sinking into his ears as he watched your lids blink slowly. Your seductive gaze filtering up under your lashes.

He heard the shift, felt the shift, in your tone, body language– everything. Something he was well attuned to now. Body pressing deeper against his, you leaning up on your tiptoes, lips only a hot breath away.

The frenzy was long gone, supposedly. Although there wasn’t a day that went by that Azriel didn’t want you– didn’t have you. He devoured you day and night, sometimes more if he was able to sneak out of work and find you.

In fact, that desire didn’t seem to fade at all. Only grew, and you both just became somewhat better at managing it. Actually that was lie. You were good at managing it, Azriel not so much. 

So whenever you would relinquish that control, Azriel couldn’t stop himself. Wouldn’t dream of depriving you.

“Anything for you my butterfly, what did you have in mind?” he purred, his hands moving to your hips to press you closer. Heat flaring up under his skin, as he noticed the change in both your scents.

“Hmm, you see there’s this custom for fairies that we have yet to complete. It’s considered a right of passage…” your own hands had found the collar of his shirt, fingers toying with the material as you glanced away playfully as you spoke. You rolled your bottom lip between your teeth lightly, that almost caused Azriel to groan right there and then.

“Tell me more about this custom.”

Tilting your head towards the bed of flowers that consumed the meadow, chewing the inside of your cheek as you tried to find the best words, “For new couples, it is considered tradition to bless the relationship by making love in a flower.”

The notion caught Azriel off guard. His eyes widening ever so slightly, as a faint blush heated his ears. His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed. Whatever dominating composure he did have, had swiftly slipped away at your words.

“In a flower?,” he managed to stutter out.

You’d never seen him like this before. 

Now Azriel wasn’t one to shy away in the bedroom. He wasn’t a novice, far from one in fact. And he’d proved that to you in your early months of the mating frenzy. So this rare display of bewilderment and bashfulness was rather endearing. 

“Yes Azriel, I want you to fuck me in a flower. That flower to be specific.” Your slender finger pointed to a pink flower that stood tall beside your willow woven basket on the ground.

Your bluntness caused a stir within him, his gaze darkening slightly as if he finally digested your words.

This was different. Something he hadn’t even known existed. He had been very thorough when doing his research on you, but this little custom hadn’t been in his books. 

There was also the factor that your suggestion was very…exposing. Not that Azriel was against being caught, voyeurism was something that had excited him in the past. But perhaps it was that innate carnal desire, the mating frenzy’s grip still tight on him, that Azriel didn’t particularly like the idea of someone seeing you.

“Oh Azriel, there’s no need to be so possessive…there’s no one here.” You teased, a playful glint in your eye as you pulled yourself away from him, hands grazing down his chest and torso lightly before putting some space between you both.

He sometimes hated how transparent he was to you, even without his emotions rippling through the bond. You just always knew. Knew what he was thinking, knew what he was feeling– always.

“Come join me Az,” you purred, this time not allowing your invitation to even be considered for rejection by the possessive male. “I want you to make love to me right there.”

Azriel’s closed the space between you, he wasn’t going to deny his mate.

𓇢𓆸

Whatever previous misgivings he may have had, were completely gone by the time you’d both dwindled and flown into the flower.

The floret you had chosen was pink and peachy, it’s hues resembling the colours that flickered off your wings in the sunlight. Velvety petals stood large and grander than he had ever imagined, stepping inside the flower was like stepping into a room. A small room, perhaps double the size of the large bed you both shared, but plenty of space for what you were wanting from him– needing from him.

The petals existed as tall large pink walls, with a ceiling of the changing sky above. And there was the bed of pollen, cushiony and pillowy beneath him that had him chewing his lip at the mere thought of having you there.

“Y/n-” he went to say your name, pulling his gaze of awe from the flower bed you’d pulled him into, to see you slipping your dress from over your shoulders. The material falling down and pooling at your feet as your wings flickered in a glow.

“Azriel, are you really going to make me wait much longer?” You whispered, a sensual strain on your voice as Azriel acknowledged just how desperate his little mate wanted this– wanted him.

Azriel grunted back a groan as his darkened hazel eyes drunk up your naked figure. Eyes grazing across every curve, just before his shadows seemed to follow suit. Mirroring his gazes with a touch.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Azriel had followed suit, stripping himself of his leathers, his eyes studying you as you stepped closer to him. Each step padding across the fluffy pollen, your hand slowly grazing up your body in a lazy but seductive manner. His shadows were swirling around your figure, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

That alone made his cock twitch. 

Your teasing tone from earlier had already caused a stir within him, and seeing your naked form now only hardened his pulsing cock further. 

There was also something so intimate about being here with you. In this flower, being in a part of your world, a part that you had so desperately wanted to share with him. Time and time again, Azriel was in disbelief that he was even worthy of being in this space.

You stood directly in front of him, the peaks of your breasts touching his chiselled torso as the mild evening breeze gently brushed through the petals. Your scent catching on the wind, that only confirmed to Azriel what his next move was.

Your eyes widened slightly, as you watched your beautiful mate come down to his knees, his wings slumped down casually behind him. His arms wrapping around your hips as his lips pressed against your lower abdomen, sinking further a trail of kisses down to his desired destination.

He gave you one last look up, that sultry stare under his thick dark lashes before you felt his lips latched onto your core. Your back arched instantly, head rolling back and your wings stretching further behind you. 

Azriel groaned at your taste, sweet just like honey– sweet just like you.

For support, his arms quickly hooked under one of your legs,  hiking it over his shoulder ensuring you were straddling his face– just the way he liked it. His other hand cupped your ass with a squeeze.

That Illyrian of yours, showing off his strength by supporting you fully with his arm strength alone. And then there was his skill, the way his tongue danced against your slick. Devouring every drop of your wetness. Your fingers instantly connected with his hair, tangling in the wavy midnight locks. You began to grind then, against his lips, pushing light pressure against his tongue that caused a groan to ripple up his throat.

“Azriel…” You breathed, a rosyness and heat filling your cheeks at the position before another whiney moan left your lips. You loved how your mate could quite literally throw you around, hike you over his face, or hold you while he fucked you.

But gods, his tongue was worshipping you, every stroke sending a wave of pleasure that was sending you into a blissful daze.

Azriel’s mouth suckled gently on your clit for a moment, making sure it was swollen and puffy before you felt his lips stretch into a smirk. Gently he placed you down, your feet reaching the plush pollen beneath you. His large calloused hand moved from your thigh up to wrap around your back.

“Fine,” he purred, knowing too well what that whine meant– that he was sending you to ecstasy and your body was about to give in. 

He moved you gracefully to lay beneath him. You were sprawled, your back plush against the soft centre of the flower. Pockets of pollen and fairy dust filtering the air around you as your hair stretched out beneath you, they looked just like his tendrils of shadows.

Azriel watched you for a moment, your radiant figure vibrant under the moon's glow. The way your hand reached up for him, fingers grazing the line of his jaw. Your wings spread out below you, beautiful and glowing. 

This. This moment right here was it. 

He had to take a moment to remember it, treasure it and keep it safe in his mind.

Then, he leaned down. His mouth slotting over yours in a passionate ravenous kiss. Your mouths moved in synchrony with one another as it grew deeper and wetter. You felt his pelvis against you, his erection obvious. You pulled away for a moment, eyes glancing down over the curves of your breasts to see his large leaking cock between you.

“Azriel…stop making me wait,” you whined at the sight, your hips lifting up to rock against him.

His lips pulled into a light smile at your desperation, but he dropped himself down. Finding himself in his favourite place again- between your legs.

He wanted to drink you up first.

𓇢𓆸

Azriel sat against the petal wall, his large heavy wings sprawled out behind him in a slump. You angelically moved to straddle him. Each movement causing a puff of pollen to float in the air, which only amplified the glow of your wings. 

Wisps floated in the space around you, illuminated by the moonlight shining from above.

“How long have you been waiting for this, my little butterfly?” Your wetness still covering his lips as he teased, his calloused fingers gripping your ass cheeks gently. Once, twice, he squeezed before he grazed his fingers down your thighs and up again. Then, he slotted his mouth over the peak of your breast. Finding that gentle balance of sucking and nibbling that he knew had you quivering.

“Longer than you would assume-” you gasped at the feeling, eyes rolling back for a moment as you bit back a moan.

“Tell me when.” Azriel almost commanded, one hand weaving its way in your hair to tug at the way your head rolled back. The sight of you fighting bliss as your eyes fluttered shut for a moment shot straight to his member. It clenched and tapped against his abdomen, pre cum stringing from his tip to his torso.

You moved then, hovering slightly over his leaking cock, your soaked wet folds grinding over the head. Mixing your sweetness with his. Your wings twitched as his hot tip rubbed over your sensitive clit, Azriel had already made you finish three times.

Azriel growled out a moan at the touch. So light and teasing.

“Tell me.” He demanded again, this time pushing you down onto him his hands holding your hips as he guided you. The stretch filling you with a pleasure that elicited a sweet moan. Azriel groaned as he felt himself fill you fully. His large thick cock feeling so tight in your heat.

Slowly you began to roll your hips, finding a rhythm you knew he loved. Azriel’s head rolled against the rubbery petal, his pupils wide, mouth agape.

“I’ve been waiting for this since I showed you how to dwindle,” you admitted, referencing a time well over a year ago now. 

So much had changed since that time. But one thing had remained the same, you were completely and utterly in love with the Shadowsinger. 

Azriel growled, not just at the pleasure you were edging him towards but to the reality you’d both come to terms with since accepting the mating bond. That for years prior you had both been pining for one another.

“You’re telling me we could have been doing this for a year already?” Azriel grunted, his face coming to the curve of your neck as he held you steady, his own hips rolling up to rock into you.

“We’ve been over this Az,” you couldn’t help the smirk that spread across your lips. “You’ll just have to make up for lost time.”

Azriel’s eyes darkened slightly and with a tight grip on your hips, he pushed even deeper.

“I can do that.”

𓇢𓆸

It was Azriel’s wings that were twitching now, yours were tucked away by magic while your mate’s hard chest pressed against your back. His hips rolling into you from behind, as he embraced you tightly, hand squeezing your breast.

Azriel’s face was burrowed into the curve of your neck, he had left many marks there, laying claim. But now all the Illyrian could manage was flurry of moaning whispers and whiney words as you felt him near his release.

“So– mhm– feels so good angel,” he choked out, a guttural moan leaving his swollen mouth from where you’d kissed and sucked so much.

“Azriel–” you breathed out, your hand tangled so tightly in his hair little tiny daisy’s had grown from your magic touch. Weaving their way into his strands.

His rhythm was getting quicker, thrusts shorter but deeper. Sweat was beading off his face onto your neck as he brought his hand round to touch your clit again. That sensitive bud he couldn’t leave alone. 

That extra touch was enough.

A sweeping, rolling hot wave moved from your centre, you back arching into your mate as you cried out in pleasure. Your release consuming you as your mate joined. Azriel thrusted deeper into your core, the feeling rippling through his body as he juttered into you.

Ribbons of his hot sticky cum filling you up.

You both laid there for a moment.

Your finger gently untangled from his hair, coming down to rest on his hand that was holding your waist. Your finger slightly grazing over the deep scars set into his flesh.

Catching your breaths, you glanced up at the twinkling stars that basked their light down onto you.

“I love you,” Azriel spoke first, his lips so close to your ear you felt his mouth move against your skin. He pressed a sweet kiss on the curve of your neck, just below your ear. His nose gently brushing up and down your soft skin.

You turned at that, reluctantly pulling yourself off him to get a look at him. His cock softer but still throbbing as it left a trail of his seed down the inside of your thigh. Azriel had a dazed but loving look in his eyes, his hazel gems pulling your lips into a smile. He was sweaty, rosy and hot, and just so beautiful.

Gently your fingers began to fuss over the flowers that had grown from your release, softly pulling them from his hair.

He watched you, his eyes taking in every inch of your expression. Your heated cheeks, the sheen from sweat that just made you glisten more. You were just so beaut–

With that thought Azriel’s cock throbbed again, a moan climbing up his throat as he hastily pulled your hands away to kiss you. Hips pushing against you for more. Bursts of pollen sprung into the air from his sudden movement.

Chuckling through your kiss, you called his name. Really again? It was the fourth round tonight.

“I need you–” Azriel went to defend, only to cut himself off with a violent sneeze.

Bursts of pollen spun round the space, as you watched your mate’s nose scrunch into another sneeze.

“Bless you,” you giggled when he finally stopped, your arms wrapping around his neck as he positioned himself above you.

“Blessed I am to have you,” he replied sincerely.

𓇢𓆸

Cassian let out another giant sneeze, causing Rhys and Azriel to give him an unimpressed look from across the table.

“Could you at least use this when you sneeze, I get enough yuck and gunk with the kids” Rhys spoke with annoyance, throwing a silk embroidered handkerchief across to his brother.

Cassian glared back, snatching the midnight material and wiping his nose slightly before stuffing it in his pocket.

“I can’t help it, Azriel stinks!”

Rhys stole a sideways glance at Azriel before returning his attention to Cassian again.

It had been a few days since that night in the meadows, a night Azriel was keen to repeat again. But Cassian was right, he couldn’t seem to shake the pollen. 

“I don’t understand, what have you been doing? Rolling around in a field?” Cassian scoffed, folding his arms as he looked across at his brother in question.

Rhys couldn’t hide the shit-eating grin that spread across his face, his hand coming to cover his mouth as he stifled a laugh.

Azriel fought off a smirk. “Something like that Cass,” however it was only a second before Rhys bellowed a laugh. Azriel was quick to follow, with a chuckle.

“Wait! What is it? What am I missing?” Cassian demanded from them both.

“Nothing Cass, don’t worry about it mate,” Azriel replied, his jaw hurting from trying to contain his laughter.

“I swear if this is a sex thing and you’re not telling me I won’t forgive you!!!!”

a/n: the flower sex is finally here!!! yaaaayyyyy hahaha okay so this was actually so hard to write, smut does not come easy but I'm somewhat satisfied with the outcome. Lemme know what you want from these two next! Enjoy my loves <3

forever tags: @lilah-asteria @illyrianbitch @sleepylunarwolf @daily-dose-of-sass @milswrites @marscardigan

Wings tags: @minaethrym

[melon-fodder]

ALWAYS HAVE BEEN • T. HIRAGI

Summary: Hiragi drops in on you unannounced after a fight. Once you patch him up things take an unexpected turn, one you’ve wanted for years.

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: smut, reader is Matsumoto’s sister in some capacity, mentions of fighting, very minor injuries, reader has female anatomy, Hiragi gets dirty in this (bless), fingering, oral (f! receiving), p in v, multiple orgasms, squirting, dirty talk, pet names: pretty girl, baby

Note: This got away from me so fast, but it needed to happen. Finally, finally, I have written something more than a drabble for the love of my life 💚 Enjoy~

The bathroom is still full of steam when you step out of the shower, keeping your face damp even after toweling it off. You dry your hair as well as you can, comb some leave-in conditioner through it, then wipe part of the mirror clear to get started on your simple skin care routine. The vent is loud enough to block out any sound from outside, specifically the door to your apartment opening and closing, a voice that would be familiar calling out for your brother. Ignorant of your guest, you just keep humming, rubbing in moisturizer, gliding your jade roller over your face. The tool clatters into the sink when you startle, jumping out of your skin when you hear a deep voice on the other side of the door, “Yo, Matsumoto–” Hiragi, one of your brother’s closest friends and fellow member of Bofurin. Despite not feeling threatened that he’s in your home, your heart rate doesn’t slow down one bit. In fact, it speeds up. “You still have that first-aid kit somewhere?” he calls out, and you rush to wrap a towel around yourself, knotting it securely over your chest, then crack the door to peer up at him. Hiragi’s eyebrows raise high on his forehead, pink dusting his cheeks when he realizes– “Yodai isn’t home right now.” “Shi–I mean, sorry, I’ll leave.” There’s a bruise blooming just beside his left eye, and his bottom lip is split open on one side. You don’t even have to look at his hands to know that his knuckles are bloodied. They stay in a constant state of rawness, similar to your brother’s. “No, it’s fine,” you tell him as he begins to back away. It’s an awkward situation, but, while you would have been mortified a couple years ago, you’re more comfortable with yourself now. Plus, you know for a fact Hiragi would never hurt you. “Give me a second to make myself, ya know, decent,” you gesture vaguely to yourself which makes the man flush even darker and stare at the ceiling, “and then I’ll grab the first-aid kit for ya’.”

Hiragi clears his throat before muttering, “thanks,” then strides back out to the living room, leaving you to skitter across the hall into your bedroom to put some damn clothes on.

You’ve known the Furin boys (men now, you suppose) since high school when Yodai joined. Out of all of them, you’re most familiar with Yanagida, Kaji, and of course, Hiragi, having grown accustomed to them dropping in at all hours, usually after fights but sometimes just to relax. First it had been at your family home, but even when you and your brother moved into your own small, shared apartment, you still found yourself walking into a full house fairly often.

The point is that you’re comfortable with all of them. Even if you’ve been harboring a tiny (massive) crush on Hiragi since the day you met him. It’s fine, though. Everything will be fine. You’ll get him patched up and send him on his way, and nothing will change even though he just saw you in nothing but a towel.

You could have covered up a little better, probably should have, but it’s your apartment, so when you walk back out it’s in a faded metal band t-shirt and a pair of maybe-too-small terry cloth shorts. Whatever.

Hiragi is sitting in the kitchen and straightens up when you walk in, immediately apologizing again until you wave him off.

“It’s fine, I promise. I’ve gotten pretty used to you popping in with no warning,” you kid.

“I didn’t realize it was… I mean, I texted your brother to give him a heads up.”

“Well, as it happens, he does occasionally do things that aren’t gang-related. Errands, dates…”

Hiragi scoffs as you open one of the high cabinets, something about, “I’d know if Matsumoto was datin’ someone. He’s just blowin’ me off ‘cause I put him to work yesterday–hey!” He’s suddenly on his feet when he notices you swing a leg up on the counter. “Don’t climb that! You’re gonna break your damn neck!”

Pulling you off and away from the oh-so dangerous countertops, Hiragi reaches into the cabinet that is much more accessible to him–god, he’s so tall, deliciously tall–and retrieves the little red box you were aiming for. When he starts for the hallway again you catch him by the wrist and try to lead him back into his chair.

“I can patch myself back up, kid,” he tells you. The name raises your hackles while simultaneously forcing a shiver down your spine. Yodai calls you ‘kiddo’ but he’s allowed, even if you are only a few months younger than him. Hiragi, though… You would really prefer if he was able to see past the whole Matsumoto’s little sister thing.

“Just sit down,” you command more than request. “You have clumsy man fingers. I’ll be able to do a better job.”

And you do, dabbing at the tiny cut on his eyebrow with a cotton ball before carefully applying a butterfly bandage. The bruise on the side of his head doesn’t show any broken skin, so there’s not much you can do there, but you are able to tend to that swollen lip. Hiragi pouts like he isn’t a huge fan of you taking care of him like this, but tough shit. It’s in your nature. Plus, you’ve got far gentler hands. He’d probably find a way to hurt himself even worse, get too rough with a q-tip or something.

It’s quiet for a little while, and you are keenly aware of how close you are to him (another contributing factor as to why you’re doing this? Possibly). You’re bent at the waist while dabbing at his face, and you know your shirt is offering a bit of a view after cutting the collar open years ago in an attempt to give it an edgier look. Hiragi isn’t looking, though, gaze trained upward as he pushes his lip out for you.

“He really out on a date?” he eventually asks, and you smirk. Apparently, he doesn’t handle silence well either.

“Yeah,” you answer, waiting a beat before adding, “with our mom.”

Hiragi tries to smile only for you to squish his cheeks together, poking your tongue out at him when he makes a noise of protest.

You think you’re playing it pretty cool so far–casual and lighthearted. That doesn’t mean you aren’t thinking about how you want to pepper his face with kisses, though. Just get comfortable in his lap, play with the short, bleached hairs at the back of his head. See how much you can tease him before he starts rolling his hips against yours…

“Wha’re you ‘hinkin awout?” Hiragi halfway manages through the grip you have on his face.

You let go of him, realize you’re sucking on your own lip, that your eyelids have gotten heavy with desire, but you pull yourself out of it with a short shake of your head.

“Nothing important.”

“No?” He surprises you by sitting forward, and the sudden motion makes you stumble back just enough to trigger his instincts into reaching out and grabbing you before you can fall over. Hands around your waist (huge, warm hands) Hiragi pins you with jasper eyes. “Nothin’ important?”

You swallow visibly. Audibly. But shake your head again. He’s just doing that thing–that subtle check-in, making sure you’re okay without actually asking. Thinks he scared you earlier or that you’re pissed at him showing up in the first place. It’s not like he’s holding you like this just to fuck with you. Hiragi isn’t the type to do that.

But he also isn’t the type to linger, more of a head-pat or brief one armed hug type of guy. So why are his fingers curling against the hem of your shirt? And why is he lifting his eyebrow like that?

“Not often it’s just you n’ me alone, huh?” he prompts, finally letting his hands drop to his thighs.

“No,” your voice cracks and you swear internally. “No, not since that one time in school when the others ran off without you.” A fight that Yodai took very personally, ignoring his captain when Hiragi had called out to him to slow down, responding only with, “keep my sister safe!” as if he had any right to demand something like that from his higher-up.

But it was Hiragi, so he did in fact stay behind to keep an eye on you while Yodai and Kaji brawled out in the school yard. It was right around that time that your crush on him had really bloomed, so being alone in a room with him… You spent most of the time shaking in the corner, eyes darting back and forth between Hiragi and anywhere else. Of course he noticed, frowning at you in confusion but not willing to ask questions and make you even more uncomfortable.

“You were terrified of me back then,” he chuckles now, showing off sharp teeth that you want to feel against your neck.

You laugh–giggle, really–because, “I was not scared of you.”

“What? You were shakin’ like a leaf. I remember you all curled up in one of the desks.”

“Yeah, but not ‘cause I was scared,” you reiterate. “I had a crush on you, idiot.”

It’s okay if he knows now, just as long as you talk about it like it’s in the past, like you’ve moved on.

Hiragi’s eyes widen, truly surprised. “Wait, for real?”

“For real,” you grin, deciding now is a good time to gather up the used cotton balls and throw them away. Putting a few feet of distance between the two of you is good, helps you take in full breaths. Still, even on the other side of the kitchen you can feel his eyes on you.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

You spin around, not expecting that question at all, and grapple for a believable answer. “M-me? Back then? Are you kidding? I was so… All I did was follow Yodai around like some–”

“Kid sister?” he finishes for you, an amused smile lifting the swollen side of his mouth. “It was cute.”

Your jaw drops, somehow offended and flattered at the same time. “It was weird. Like I didn’t have friends or anything better to do.”

Hiragi shrugs. “You just seemed kinda shy. Innocent. Like I said, it was cute.”

Narrowing your eyes, you know you’re about to say something stupid, but you just can’t help it. “Innocent? And you thought it was cute? You some kind of creep, Ragi?”

He cocks his head to the side. “Depends. You still got that crush on me?”

Yes. “No.” You answer too quickly. Way too quickly. And Hiragi’s eyes shine. Trying to recover, you walk back toward him, doing your absolute best to look unfazed and confident. “Even if I did, it wouldn’t matter since I’m not all shy and innocent anymore.”

Hiragi stands up, all 187 centimeters of shiny leather and bleached hair looming over you, and you feel your breath hiccup in your throat. Fuck, he’s only gotten hotter over the years, and you’ve only gotten more desperate for him.

“Who said I was still into that sorta thing?”

You know you look ridiculous, gazing up at him with big doe eyes, lips parted, absolutely everything written all over your face, and all that confidence is gone because he’s staring down at you, and he knows. He knows your feelings, knows you want him. Now.

You don’t think; you just do–shoving yourself up on your tiptoes while wrapping your fingers in his shirt, you pull Hiragi toward you, kissing him hard enough to force a grunt from him. He doesn’t hesitate to respond, bending on his own accord while walking you back to the nearest wall and pressing you to it. You breathe through your nose, each inhale full of his cologne and a hint of sweat. The taste of antiseptic barely registers when you swipe your tongue over his lip, overpowered by the remnants of blood.

His body is hot and hard against yours. Not just the bulge pressing into your stomach, but his chest, his abs, the thigh that slides between yours. You can’t help but grind down on it, gasping into his mouth at the same time he mutters a deep, “fuck.”

His hands are under your shirt, squeezing your curves, blunt nails lightly scratching, and he groans when he traces the swell of your bare tits.

Pulling away, Hiragi huffs against your neck, voice like gravel when he tells you, “I’m about to defile you,” so matter-of-fact that it makes you moan out loud.

“Fu–please, want you so bad,” you whine, and it’s pitiful. Pathetic. Nothing cool or casual about you now as you pant for him. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

“I know.” He takes your face in both hands, nodding so that his nose bumps into yours. “M’right here, I’ve gotcha.”

Hiragi kisses you again, teeth nipping until you open your mouth for him. The sensation of his tongue against yours has you all but riding his thigh. You know you’ll be leaking through your skimpy underwear if you haven’t already, and your arousal only increases when Hiragi bends to grip you by the thighs, lifting you onto the nearest countertop.

It makes you snicker, “m’gonna break my neck, remember?”

“Tch.” Hiragi kisses down said neck, stopping to bite and suck, hand on your back to feel how it arches for him. “Not gonna let that happen.”

One hand under your shirt, Hiragi uses his other to dance along your leg, higher and higher until he reaches the bottoms of your shorts, loose enough to slip beneath.

“Tell me to stop if you–”

“Don’t stop.”

He laughs, shrugging out of his jacket when you start to push it off his shoulders, and once it’s on the floor his hands are on you again, fingers disappearing under your shorts to stroke over your poorly covered pussy. Hiragi hums in satisfaction, obviously pleased at how wet you are. You expect him to comment on it since he obviously has a bit of smartass in him, but he doesn’t. Instead he drops to his knees and starts tugging at your bottoms.

You can barely process what’s happening. Is he really–are you finally–holy shit, you’ve dreamt of this. His face between your legs, tongue lapping at your slick, a finger slowly sinking into your wanton cunt.

“Ohh, fuck, fuck…”

You feel the points of his teeth graze your puffy folds, sharp and teasing before he wraps his lips around your swelling clit and sucks.

The noise you let out is embarrassing, high-pitched and uncontrolled. Your fingers find purchase in his hair, softer than expected. Must’ve switched from gel to something else. The thought makes you laugh a little hysterically. Here he is, Toma Hiragi, eating your pussy like it’s his job, and you’re thinking about his hair. He shuts you up with a second finger, though, both of them bent to rub against your g-spot, and you whimper as pressure begins to build between your hips.

It feels so good. He feels so fucking good, licking and slurping and fucking you with his fingers, but you want more, you– “Ragi, please, fuck, I want… I need…”

One long lick to the crest of your pussy then he asks, “what do you need?” only to return to sucking on your clit again, stealing your breath away for just a moment. “Tell me, come on, pretty girl, use your words.”

“I–” Pretty girl. “I—” his fingers are still moving inside you, making your head loll back and hit the cabinets behind you. “I–fuck, need to feel you.”

He stands, still not pulling his fingers from you, and he uses his thumb to circle your clit as he leans into your space and teases, “need me? I’m right here.”

Your eyes roll behind fluttering lids, lips pulling down into a pout that he promptly covers with his own, messy mouth. He’s overwhelming, fingers moving perfectly, milking slick from you with every stroke of your g-spot, and fuck, the way he’s kissing you, how he’s touching you, how he’s teasing you with a soft, “yeah, baby? Can’t even talk, huh? Feel that good?” He’s filthy. Hiragi is so much dirtier than you imagined, and you have imagined a lot when it comes to him.

“Fuck me, please please please, Ragi, wanna feel your cock,” you babble, tears pricking the corners of your eyes because it’s so much, and you’re ready to cum, but there’s something missing. You need to feel all of him first.

The clinking of his belt draws your hazy eyes downward, and you salivate when he pushes his pants down and his cock springs free–long enough to make you shudder with anticipation, thick enough to make you pulse with need, and hard enough to make you preen. You did that to him. You’re doing this to him. You’re the reason for that shiny bead of pre glistening at his slit.

You want to lick it clean, fuck, you want to suck him off, swallow him down, feel him in your stomach. You want him to cum down your throat and fill you up and–

“You look like you wanna eat me,” he says. For a guy with a split lip, he sure is smirking a lot. Doesn’t that sting?

“I wanna do a lot of things to you, Hiragi, but first…” you reach down with a trembling hand, fingers wrapping around his smooth shaft, “I want you to fuck me.”

Growling, he pulls you to the very edge of the counter, conveniently the perfect height for him to line himself up with you. He rubs his tip between your sloppy lips, slapping it against your clit a couple times and sucking your gasp straight from your lips when he kisses you.

You squeal when he starts to push inside you, his thick head already stretching you, but he murmurs, “I’ll go slow,” into your mouth. His voice is shakier than before, strained while he stays true to his word. Skilled fingers rub your clit, massaging it while sinking deeper into you. The stretch is, fuck, it’s perfection. It twinges in the most delicious way, his cock steadily bullying your walls, making way for itself like it belongs there. The stretch and the sounds and his fingers on your swollen bud all have your toes curling and back bowing.

“O-oh, Jesus, Ragi, I’m–m’gonna…”

“Come on, show me how pretty you look when you cum,” he grunts, bottoming out just in time for your pussy to start spasming, clenching over and over as you make a mess all over him. “Yeah, just like that, look at you creamin’ on my cock–you gonna squirt too?” He starts swiping over your clit faster than before, pulling out and fucking back into you as you ride out your orgasm, your sopping hole opening up for him even more as you– “there it is, god damn, such a pretty pussy. You always this messy, or s’it just for me?”

You can’t speak. Hiragi keeps fucking squirt out of you, hips relentless, just like his fingers on your clit, and before you know it he’s forcing another full-body orgasm out of you.

You didn’t know it would be this good. Didn’t know it could be this good. You’ve had sex with a few other guys, and some had even managed to get you off, but not like this. This is something else entirely.

Much to your dismay, Hiragi begins to slow, and it’s only when you open bleary eyes that you notice the tears streaming down your face. For the first time since he got to the apartment and almost walked in on you, he looks concerned.

“Am I hurtin’ you?” he asks, a calloused thumb wiping your wet cheek.

You shake your head, legs wrapping around his waist to urge him deeper. “No, no, you just, mm, you feel so good.”

He bites his lip, thrusting a little faster again, little harder, groans that you, “feel fuckin’ perfect, baby. Think your pussy was made for me.”

Your words are broken and breathy as you agree with him, “it was–all yours, Ragi, I’m all yours…” too high off endorphins and overwhelmed with pleasure to even recognize what you’re admitting to.

“Yeah?” he slows again, but the way he’s burying himself inside of you is making you drool. “Always been my girl, haven’t ya’?

You nod, and he catches you in another brain-addling kiss, breathing a barely coherent, “yours, too. Been yours since day one.”

You lock your arms around his neck, pulling him impossible closer, and when his hips start to stutter you press your mouth to his, swallowing his low groan as he spills his load inside of you. The kiss is sweeter than all the others before, tongues lazy and clumsy as he uses you to milk himself dry, and once both of you are entirely spent, your lips stay molded together, hot and insistent, saying everything that has yet to be said out loud.

“You meant it?” he asks quietly, that sinful tone gone from his voice, replaced with something much softer. “You’re still my girl?”

You sigh dramatically and nuzzle into his neck. “Always have been, probably always will be.”

Face in your hair, Hiragi chuckles, “don’t sound so embarrassed.”

“It is embarrassing. Been pining after you for years.”

“At least you weren’t the one chasin’ after your friend’s little sister.”

Lifting your head, you regard him with a raised eyebrow, “speaking of, what are you gonna tell Yodai?”

He shrugs, the picture of nonchalant despite still being balls deep inside of you. “I’ll be respectful, but in the end I’m still his superior.”

“The Furin hierarchy still stands when it comes to fucking sisters?” you laugh.

“If it means I can be with you without catchin’ any bullshit for it, absolutely.” He punctuates it with a peck to your forehead then looks down between the two of you. “We should probably, uh…”

“Get cleaned up before it’s too late?”

“Exactly. Otherwise–”

Keys turn in the lock. The front door opens.

You look at Hiragi with wide eyes as he turns red from his neck to his hairline.

“Wait right there, Yodai!” you call out frantically, fighting a whimper when Hiragi pulls out a little too quickly.

There isn’t enough time, though, not for him to zip himself back in his pants and definitely not enough for you to pull yours back on.

Yodai rounds the corner, takes in the scene, then turns right back around while shouting, “the kitchen counter? Are you fuckin’ kidding me?”

Do not copy, modify, or repost my work. I do not consent to my writing being used for AI.

[edupunkn00b]

Meus ex Machina, Chapter 17: Two Steps Forward

Edited public domain image of two hands reaching for each other, lit in deep blue and neon green.

Prev - Two Steps Forward - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

WC: 3305 - Rated: T - CW: swearing, suggestive, non-graphic nudity, (memories of) non-graphic violence

Logan (and Roman) work obsessively at finding a way to help Remus. Just as Lucas had. And just as Lucas had, they have a breakthrough.

“Re’s really progressing in his control,” Luc murmured, head pillowed on Janus’ belly. His head rose and fell with each breath, a soft marking of time as they wound down for the evening.

Janus hummed and carded an ungloved hand through his hair. “He seemed so happy at dinner after your excursion.”

“When we first got out there, he… he started to get overwhelmed. Ro did, too, at first. The…” His brow furrowed, then smoothed under Janus’ touch. “Old Boston is so close to the camps… That’s a lot of voices, a lot of pain.” Luc shifted, smiling up at him through messy curls. “Your lessons carried Ro through it.”

The fact he could help at least one of the boys eased the tightness in Janus’ chest. “That helps, love. Thank you.” His decade-old promise to keep them both safe danced through his mind and fueled every attempt to get Re’s powers under control. “So… how did you get through to Re?”

His gaze shifted, suddenly fascinated by the crooked edge of a thumbnail.

“Luc?” Janus prompted, hand stilling in his hair.

“I took just a little of the hurt,” he said, finally looking up. “Just enough to let him concentrate.”

“Luc! You promised you’d focus on techniques to help him stay calm, not just doping him!”  Janus sat up and Luc pushed up onto his elbow, bringing them closer to eye level. “He needs to learn how to filter the perceptions coming in, not just… not care about what’s out there.”

“It wasn’t a full block! I swear, ma cheri,” Luc insisted, reaching for his arm. “We can’t just yank off the training wheels and let him teeter off a cliff.”

“I’m not suggesting—”

“‘Trust me, dammit,’” Luc whispered with a little smile. His grin grew when Janus sighed, shaking his head with a laugh.

“Now that’s just unfair,” he murmured, pushing back the hair from his eyes. “You can’t use my own words against me.”

“I can’t?” Luc chuckled, sliding closer and nuzzling against his collarbone. “Who’s gonna stop me?”

~

Twenty-three weeks.

One hundred and sixty-one days.

One hundred and sixty-one days since he’d first looped a reverse-field esper coil over The Prince’s shoulders.

“Damn,” he’d grunted under the weight but still laughed. “If this doesn’t work, Iron Man, I’m gonna make you bench this thing.” Logan had spent a lot of time in the fitness room after that first failed test.

One hundred and sixty-one days of breaking the vise on V’s printer, of burning his fingertips on overheated solder. One hundred and sixty-one days of The Prince’s downcast eyes, of flicking off a too-much or two-little device.

One hundred and sixty-one nights of whispering together outside The Muse’s door about that day’s attempts. And about the book The Muse was reading, and the Springsgate bridge the team had saved from collapsing. 

About the dreams they’d each had the night before.

It had taken three weeks, but they’d finally convinced V to install a vent in the hall at Logan’s level to make it easier for the Muse to hear him. After watching Logan stretch and strain to get closer to the vent he’d installed at eye level—at a standing Mad Lad’s eye level—he’d finally obliged. The work in the hall was quick, but Silvertongue had needed to dig up some ancient set of manual tools so V could install the bolts on The Muse’s side.

“Wait, not that drill—”

“Dammit!” The power drill sparked and sizzled in his grip, and the acrid scent of burnt insulation filled the air. “Mac, you got the hand drill—” Logan had chuckled and thunked into his outstretched palm.

“Right here, V.”

One night, he and The Muse had tried to sit together on either side of the open door for an actual face-to-face conversation. But the temptation had been too great and all it had taken was one tiny touch for fire to spread between them.

At least it had been brief enough not to have woken The Prince or Silvertongue.

One hundred and sixty two days later, after everyone had gone to sleep, Logan tapped at The Muse’s door, trial #398 freshly polished and nestled in his lap.

“You said Ro helped you?”

The Muse sat on the floor, two arms’ length distance from the open door. He fidgeted with his sleeves, twisting them together in his lap, and chewed the edge of his mustache. He watched with wide eyes as Logan maneuvered to the floor—less than gracefully—and turned to retrieve the thick metal ring from his wheelchair. 

Logan nodded, holding up the device. It was heavy, though perhaps not as heavy as it looked. It was about three inches wide and a good inch thick, a large durasteel bangle custom fit to wrap around The Muse’s wrist.

Well, designed to fit tightly around his brother’s wrist. Eyeing The Muse’s far bonier wrist now, Logan nodded, certain it would fit him comfortably.

“And Ro’s not awake, is he?”

“No,” He shook his head, smile tight. That first time they’d touched, it had taken The Prince several days to completely recover from the overflow of thought and perception from The Muse’s unshielded mind. “He’s asleep. And if anything goes wrong, we’ll flip the shield back up. He might have a brief nightmare. Nothing worse than that.” 

Nothing worse than starting all over with their tests. Again.

Logan shook away his pessimism and met The Muse’s eyes before setting down the coil on the floor between them. “Are you ready?”

The Muse’s fingers twitched as he reached for the device. Completely powered down, it lay heavy and quiet on the floor, with none of the staticy buzz it usually emitted. His hand hovered above it, just shy of touching it.

“But if you turn it on in here, won’t my shield break your—your”

“Esper coil,”

“Yeah.” The Muse traced a spray of wires woven along the edges. Patton had helped with the braiding and Logan briefly wondered if he recognized his work. The Muse looked up and nodded. “You should see what he does with hair.”

Dragging his eyes away from The Muse’s soft green ones, Logan nodded and pointed to the power switch. “You will need to activate the coil immediately after I shut down your field. I would, but—” Right hand outstretched, he wiggled his fingers at the same time he waved his left stump.

The Muse chuckled. “Okay, I can do that. And you’re sure it’ll work?”

“I’m positive the coil will protect you. I would never knowingly put you in any jeopardy. We’ve tested it extensively and—”

“No.” The Muse touched his sleeve. “I mean are you sure it will work to protect you from me? That time the power went out, and when we touched… I…” He hung his head. “I hurt you.”

“We hurt each other,” he reminded him. “I will be fine,” Logan promised, before The Muse could argue—again—about who hurt who more. “If need be, I’ll reactivate the field.” He smiled, his hand close enough to the Muse’s to feel that glorious buzzy heat radiate off his skin.

“Okay,” he nodded. “I trust you, Logan. This switch here?”

“Precisely.” Eyes fixed on The Muse, Logan climbed up the perch next to the door, then felt along the wall for the shield’s control panel. The cover squeaked when he flipped it up. He nodded one more time and pressed his palm against the shield’s controls.

The numbers counted down and The Muse’s mustache quivered, and he shook out the hand hovering over the coil’s switch. The panel flicked to ‘0’ and a strangled sound spilled from his lips, a matching wail filling Logan’s mind.

Abruptly, the pain was gone and the Muse looked up, blinking as he smiled back at him. The cry in Logan’s mind shifted, deepening into a soft, comforting hum. It reminded Logan of a lullabye.

“It worked,” the Muse whispered. He inched closer, still gripping the coil. “I… It… It doesn’t hurt,” he said, looking around the room as though he could see through the walls.

Maybe he could.

“I…” He let out a low sigh and his entire face melted into a softer smile, his shoulders dropped, hands loose even as he hugged the coil close to his belly. “I can hear… I can hear y—” The Muse’s eyes flew wide open. “You hurt!”

“What?” Logan scrabbled for the panel, stabbing at the controls. “No, no, no, I’m so sorry, I’ll turn it back on, I’m sorry, I was so sure, I—” It would fry the coil, but all that mattered was stopping the Muse’s pain. Hand trembling, he broke the sequence and had to start from the beginning, hurrying to get the protective field reactivated.

But the Muse was faster.

“No, Logan, I mean you hurt,” he said softer, gently pulling his hand from the controls. When had he gotten so close? The Muse’ hand was warm against his, but it was more than a surface heat. His touch felt… textured. Plush, like a fluffy towel. Or dandelion heads. What insulation looked like.

Logan relaxed and moved closer. The Muse just nodded, still holding his hand, coil now wrapped around his wrist. Scarred and calloused fingers oh-so-gently traced over his own misshapen digits, brushing over the scarred knuckles where his pinky and ring finger had once been. 

“I can hear how much you hurt here,” the Muse whispered. “And here,” he added, tapping what was left of his legs, then his arm.

Logan looked away, but the warmth spreading from the Muse’s touch remained. “Phantom limb pain. The clinic said it’s all in my head,” he muttered.

“Of course all our pain is in our heads,” the Muse replied, sliding closer. “So is our joy and our pleasure and our fear and our need.” His hands were so warm. “Our love and our desire.”

This close, Logan was certain he heard the Muse’s words like his own thoughts, though with the coil set this high that shouldn’t be possible.

The Muse grinned as he touched his chin, two gentle fingers turning him so their eyes would meet. “You’re softer now, but I can still hear you. And I think you can hear me.”

Logan shivered, the Muse’s excitement buzzing under his own skin, easing his worry. The movement set off a wave of sharp ache, long-gone calves screaming to be stretched. He stifled a cry. “And… and I’m not hurting you?”

“No,” he said, wincing in time with Logan.

The panel called to him. “No, I am. I can see it. I’m hurting you. I should raise your shield.”

“No, please don’t,” the Muse stroked his hand. “I have an idea.” Pulling back, he sat fully on the floor, legs crossed at the shins in front of him. One hand rested on his thigh and the other he held in offering to Logan. “Close your eyes and take my hand.”

With one more glance at the control panel, Logan slid down to the floor and did as he was asked. Eyes closed, Muse’s hand wrapped around his and he laced their fingers together, with Logan’s pinkie—his pinkie— brushing against a long, jagged scar over the back of Muse’s hand.

“You feel that, don’t you?” Laughter played in his voice. “Now take my other hand,” he whispered.

“But I—” Logan began even as warm, callused fingers enveloped his left hand. Tears pricked his eyes as he flexed fingers he hadn’t felt since the bot attack. “H—how? How are you doing that?”

“Keep your eyes closed,” Muse instructed instead of answering. “And see.”

Eyes still shut, Logan looked down and smiled at his own thin, pale fingers threaded together with Muse’s. The tips of Muse’s fingers were scarred and rough, but his palms were soft and wonderfully warm. Logan squeezed his hand, laughing, then traced a thick knotted scar just above his first knuckle. The bones were crooked beneath his skin, like they’re broken and fused not quite the way they’d been. Muse nodded.

“I punched the cinderblock,” he explained with a dry laugh. “I thought it might be a good distraction, but…” He shook his head and gave him a little shrug when their eyes ‘met.’ 

Logan stroked the scar, nodding slowly, then brought their shared grip together and compared his hands side-by-side. His own hands weren’t identical, but they never had been. Without the augmentations commonplace for Traditional children of the highest classes, the fingers on Logan’s dominant left hand had always been just a little thicker, a little stronger. 

He’d always scarred easily and his skin freckled in the sun. This hand, his hand Muse was showing him was splashed with the same familiar constellation of freckles and moles on the back of it where he’d missed his sunscreen, awkwardly applying it with his non-dominant hand. He’d had the marks since before the final round of ozone replacements back when he was still a child. Know you like the back of my hand…

Muse’s Illusion was… perfect. Incredible, in fact. Logan could ‘see’ his old hand so clearly. But—

“Your mind remembers,” Muse whispered, leaning closer until their foreheads touched, hands clasped between them. “It’s all in there, bouncing around in your head, little memories hiding from your own thoughts.”

Logan floated in the gentle cadence of his words. 

“But your mind keeps it all, the memory never really goes away. Nothing does. Nothing dies in your mind. Your mind remembers what your hand looked like, remembers what things felt like. Your mind remembers everything.”

As if on cue, Logan curled around himself, a tearing, burning pain shooting up his left arm and his right hand clenched around Muse’s. The pickerbot’s shadow loomed over them, cold metal pulling him up by the hair and—

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Remus whispered. A mustache bristled against the knuckles of his right hand as warm, chapped lips pressed kisses against his mangled fingers and Logan gradually softened his grip. “See? You’re safe.” When his right hand grew slack, Remus laid it in his own lap. “Rest your hand there,” he instructed, then wrapped both hands around Logan’s trembling left arm.

Palm smoothing down over skin that wasn’t really there, he gripped Logan’s phantom left hand, then firmly massaged the muscles in his shoulder and upper arm, pressing away the pain of ripped ligaments and flesh, the physical evidence of a solid, whole humerus overriding the memory of shattered, grating bone.

His hands moved down Logan’s left arm, pressing soft spirals into his elbow and over the flexors in his forearm, his wrist, each finger. When he was done, Remus lifted Logan’s left hand to his lips and gently kissed each fingertip.

Logan flexed his left hand, twisting his arm first one way and then the other. Remus smiled, watching.

“Better?” he asked and Logan nodded. “Now your legs. May I?”

“I trust you, Remus,” he said, laying back. Remus. When had he started to call him that?

Remus only smiled and a fuzzy brightness filled his mind. Warm sunlight on a hot day, a cool breeze raising goosebumps at the back of his neck, and over his cheeks. His heart thrummed in his chest, syncopated with the beat of Remus’ just under his skin. He relaxed as Remus shifted his body, freely sharing images of how he wanted to move him. 

Stretched out on the floor, head pillowed on one of the cushions, he lifted each leg one at a time as Remus massaged away a year’s worth of knots and aches from phantom muscles. Remus slowly worked his way up until his fingers grazed the line of fire half-way up his thigh where the pickerbot had torn him apart. He flinched.

“It’s okay, Logan, see for yourself.”

His words were soft and voiceless, but clear in Logan’s mind. He looked past closed eyes and saw his legs were healthy and whole, lanky muscles relaxed under Remus’ ministrations. The fiery ache was gone, replaced by Remus’ soft, gentle touch.

“Whenever it hurts, whenever you hurt, remember this feeling,” he said, the silent words stitching themselves into his every cell, neurons crackling and popping like those old vids of campfires. Remus helped him sit up then cupped his face between both hands. “You’re safe now, Logan.”

Remus’ words melted into his skin with the heat of his touch and Logan nodded. “I know.”

He leaned against the door and Remus curled close, tucking himself under his stump of an arm. Slowly, Logan reached up and brushed back a bit of Remus’ hair where it had fallen into his eyes. Warmth spread through his chest, a low rumbly hum. He wasn’t sure if it had started in Remus and spread to him. Or the other way around.

Just as slowly, Remus wrapped one arm around his belly, molding himself to Logan’s side. “Is this okay?”

Logan couldn’t tell if he’d asked out loud. He nodded, cheek rubbing against the top of Remus’ head. “More than okay,” he said with his mouth. Don’t let go, he said with his heart.

And Remus heard both. “I won’t,” he promised.

They stayed like that until their eyelids grew heavy and Logan’s hand stuttered and fell against Remus’ shoulder. 

“It’s late and you’re drifting off,” he murmured, shifting so he could look into his eyes. Remus blinked slowly, concern mixed with a happy daze. “It’s probably safer for you to sleep in your room, just in case…” He jiggled the coil on his wrist, its circuitry’s buzz reassuring. The key to so much.

But Remus was right. Logan nodded and he tried to sit up, a vision of clambering up and into his chair pulling him further from sleepiness.

“I can help.” Remus moved to a crouch, arms open. “We’ll work together,” he grinned, understanding both Logan’s need and hesitation without him having to speak it. He could get used to that. “Teamwork and all that, right?”

“Right.” Conjugations from an ancient Latin textbook, one of those old screened ones you could only read in the library, popped into his groggy brain as Remus lifted him up so he could reach the door controls. “Quorum par, tuum par, meus par…” [ ‘Our partner, your partner, my partner’ ]

Remus chuckled and settled him into his chair after the door slid open. “‘Meus par?’ Does that mean what I think it means?”

“Ah… Ah w—well—” Logan’s cheeks burned, the many meanings of the words ‘my partner’ flowing freely from Remus’ mind. “Th—that particular meaning might be more precisely translated as ‘socius meus.’”

Remus knelt next to Logan’s chair, keeping himself at eye level, if not just a little below. He then took Logan’s hand and held it to his own heart, the steady, rapid thrumming tickling them both.

“Or you could just call me ‘meus.’” Remus stared back at him, naked hope painting his features, a galaxy of emotions pouring from his mind. It left Logan dizzy and overwhelmed, this heady mix of joy and fear and… something soft he didn’t want to try to find words for. But did they really need words? Did they need words for what battered at the inside of his rib cage, fighting to be heard?

“Meus, then,” he whispered and Remus’ face bloomed in a smile. “Good night, Meus,” he said again.

“Good night, Logan.” He pressed a kiss against Logan’s knuckles and drew back into his room and let the door close.

Logan sat outside Remus’ room for a long time before slowly rolling down to the elevator. He called it and the doors slid open. He half-expected V to be waiting for him inside. But the elevator was empty.

After a minute or two, the elevator doors closed with him still sitting in the hall. The car remained where it was. Logan turned and rolled back to Remus’ door.

Remus was there, watching through the window.

“I don’t want to leave,” he said, hand trembling as he reached for the door panel. Remus nodded and leapt through the door as it slid open.

He crouched in front of his chair, both arms wrapped tight around Logan’s middle. “Then stay.”

[sissylittlefeather]

Ta daaaaaaah...

A Very Quiet Life: Chapter 5

A/N: still the AU where Elvis is your next door neighbor in the suburbs in the late '60s. This might be my favorite chapter so far...

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI! This one is hella smutty, kissing, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex

Links to:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Enjoy, friends!

Song inspo (as always):

And the gifs:

"Well, I'll be around as long as they need me." He walks out the front door and back to his house.

******

Three weeks pass with only polite waves between you and Elvis. He talks to the kids periodically, but you usually try to avoid eye contact when he does.

One Tuesday morning, after dropping the kids off at school, you turn on the shower and try to adjust the shower head. It comes off in your hand and water shoots out everywhere. You run to the water shut-off valve and turn it off quickly. You're still holding the shower head in your hand and blinking through the water that just sprayed all over you.

You only have one shower. Luckily, today is your day off, but you don't really have the money right now to call a plumber because you spent so much for Michael's birthday party coming up this weekend. You feel so bad for him in his little cast that you can't help but go a bit overboard.

You know what you need to do, but you're not sure if you can do it. Will he even come after the weeks of chilliness between you?

You decide you don't have a choice and throw on some clothes to go next door.

When you step onto his porch, a thought attacks you. What if his wife answers?

But as far as she knows, you're just a needy widow with a broken shower. Either way, you knock. Eventually he comes to the door with a guitar in his hand. He smirks at the sight of you with dripping wet hair and a shower head in your hand.

"Well, hello."

"Hi. I'm really sorry to do this but my shower is broken and I--"

"Say no more. I'm in the middle of a lesson right now, but I'll be over in about fifteen minutes." You hear wayward strumming from his living room. It takes a second for you to remember that he teaches music lessons to kids, but once it registers you apologize again for interrupting.

"It's not a problem. I'll see you in a bit." He closes the door as you back off of the porch and head back to your own house.

The next fifteen minutes go by slower than a snail in molasses. You're sitting in your living room with the shower head still in your hand when you hear him knock. You open the door and he walks in with a box of tools. He follows you back to the bathroom and takes the shower head from you.

"Umm... I'll let you work..." you say awkwardly as he gets started.

About twenty minutes later, he calls to you from the bathroom.

"Can you turn the water back on, so I can test it?" You go to the shut-off valve and turn it back on full power.

"Ah, SHIT FUCK!!" You hear him holler from the bathroom. You run in there to see what happened. He's standing in the shower soaking wet.

You absolutely die laughing when you see him. He looks down, shaking his head, and starts laughing too.

"You left the damn water running!" He laughs a big booming laugh and you double over, tears squeezing out of your eyes as you cackle.

"It's not that funny!" He grabs your hand and pulls you into the shower, turning the water on again as he does it, so that you're getting soaked too.

"Ah! Stop it!" You sputter and laugh, trying to turn the faucet off, but he blocks you. Luckily the water has warmed up as you stand there with him laughing as the shower continues to soak you both. You put your hand on his chest without thinking. He puts his hand over yours and looks down at you. He's not laughing anymore. You stop too as you look up at him, breathily heavily as the water runs down your back. He leans in slowly and you feel your heart flutter as his lips touch yours. Next thing you know, he's wrapped around you in a passionate kiss. You rip your wet shirt off over your head and move to take his off too. He feverishly unhooks your bra and tosses it out of the shower. You press your wet skin against his while your lips are smashed together, tongues moving wildly. Your pants and underwear are the first to go, but his aren't far behind. When you're both naked, water still running, he turns you around to face the shower wall. He kisses the back of your neck and runs both hands down the front of your body, stopping only to squeeze your breasts lightly. You stand on your toes as he lines himself up with you from behind and pushes into you, filling you fully. He grabs your hips and thrusts powerfully, fucking you from behind as the water runs down both of you. You've never been fucked with this kind of urgency before and you can feel your climax building as he pounds into you. With no warning, he pulls out of you and flips you around with your back pressed up against the wall. He gets on his knees and goes to work licking you and fucking you with his fingers. You were already close, so you come fast and hard in his mouth, your orgasm vibrating and resonating across your body like a tuning fork.

He stands up and enters you from the front, pulling on your thighs to lift you up and set your ass on the shower bar. He pumps into you like his life depends on it while you grip his back tightly, trying not to leave marks with your fingernails. He leans down and kisses you tenderly. Despite the fervor with which he's fucking you, he's still gentle. After a few more thrusts, he slams his hips into yours and cries out.

"Fuck yes, y/n!" He twitches and pumps weakly one more time and kisses you before pulling out and helping you down from the shower bar. Your legs are shaking and you notice that the water isn't so warm anymore. He leans over and shuts it off and you stand there naked and wet together, your chests heaving. You wrap yourself around him one more time and kiss him deeply. He holds you tightly against himself, like he's scared to let go of you. Pulling back to look at you, he whispers.

"I don't want to get out of this shower."

"I don't either." You want to stay here forever in this limbo with him where you can be together and no one has to know and nothing has to change.

"I don't have any more lessons today."

"I don't have to pick up the kids until 4." He reaches for a towel and wraps it around you. Then he grabs one for himself.

"Want to spend the day in my bed?" You look at him hopefully. It's stupid, but at this point, you don't care anymore.

"I thought you'd never ask." He smiles widely and bends down to kiss you on the cheek.

Meanwhile, across the street, Mrs. Walter takes note of the fact that the neighbor entered your house at 9:45am and still hasn't left...

******

Chapter 6 coming soon!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@itlover8000 @deniseinmn @elvisalltheway101 @ccab @suxny @hernameisnoellex3 @ashtag6887 @arabellapresley @littlehoneyposts @dkayfixates @elvisxsposts @joshuntildawn13 @msamarican @returntopresley @mrsbutler99 @elvisfatass

Want to be added to the Taglist? Let me know!

[canadiannationalfox]

Murder Drones Fanfic - Girls Nails Night V and J

(takes place before episode 1)

J and V arrived back from the last patrol of the night on Copper-9. Their efforts to dismantle and imbibe on worker drone oil was quite fruitful, however, N on the other hand had caught the least amount, so he was left to stand guard outside while avoiding the direct sunlight.

J climbed up from the main area of the landing pod into her bedroom area. The twin-ponytailed disassembly drone sat on her bed and rummaged through her nightstand looking for something.

"Well, isn't that a nice company bonus," she mused to herself as she found a knife sharpening block.

She set down the tool on her bed before picking up a microfibre cloth, holding it tight with her right hand as she popped the knife claws out on her left hand. She gently wiped the remaining oil residue from her kills off of her claws.

There was a knock at the hatch before V, the disassembly drone girl who had a penchant for being more erratic, opened it greeting her coworking-supervisor, "Hey J, could I borrow your extra blade sharpener?"

Now, J had far more respect for V than she did for N, on account of V being another girl to hangout with since Tessa wasn't around right now. J was itching to spend time with someone, ANYONE but N, so since she was in a slight 'Laissez-faire' mood, she smiled to V and invited warmly, "I mean, you can join me if you'd like, V, just don't break anything, or I'll gladly take your head clean off."

V laughed as she rolled her LED eyes and fully entered the space she hardly got to come up into.

The room was very cozy and posh despite being the pseudo-attic of the spaceship. A company banner hanging across the wall above the head of J's bed, fairy-lights on the ceiling, a night stand and also a small vanity dresser with a mirror, and of-course J's bed which was almost like a wireless charging pad.

V started to ask, "Can I borrow some W-" when J passed her the can of WD40 with her injector tail.

She laughed a little and responded, "Damn, you know me well."

J passed V a rag and responded, "Please, a good supervisor knows everyone's quirks."

The disassembly drone with the silver bob haircut accepted the polishing rag and the oil spray, thanking J quickly before she sprayed the rag with the WD40. V flexed her claws out on one hand and started wiping them down.

"I know the handbook says claws with a slight rust deal better damage but, something is more satisfying about the cuts and gashes that perfectly clean claws leave, right?" the sure-of-herself J suggested as she put down her microfibre cloth.

V giggled as she switched to wiping down her right hand claws and using the left hand to clean them off, "Oh definitely, that and it's WAY more fun."

J picked up the sharpening block and gently ran one of her left claws through the block's sharpening grooves, smiling at the sound it made when she did so. Working her way across all her knife claws until they were wonderfully sharp. J held up her claws on her right hand to look at her reflection in them. She giggled, "Pure perfection!" before she tossed the block to V and suggested, "Use my good one, V."

V sat on the floor by the bed and started running the tool back and forth over her claws.

J stopped admiring herself, pulling her claws back in after seeing that in her reflection. She scolded dully, "You're doing that wrong, V."

V couldn't help but roll her eyes in annoyance but when she turned back to look, J had her hands on the knife sharpening block and V's claws, the slightly shorter disassembly drone girl stopped in shock.

The slightly taller disassembly drone with the long glossy pigtails insisted firmly, "V, I just can't stand idly by as you are about to completely butcher your claws."

V blinked in shock, she was being pulled over to J's bed, and was sat down. J sat, kneeling on the bed as she scolded in a friendly tone, "Now, let me show you how it's properly done." She ran V's left hand claws through, one by one, gently, saying firmly yet informatively, "WITH the blade's grain, V."

She took her time to go over every claw twice before commanding, "Thank you V, now right side!"

V obeyed silently, enjoying what was essentially was getting her nails done.

J put down the tool and plucked a strand of hair from her hairbrush. She ran the strand of hair across the knife blade and marveled as it split the strand perfectly.

The proud robot proclaimed, "Perfectly sharp!" her hubris for her handiwork was notable as she snottily replied, "You're welcome, V"

V looked at her claws, both shiny and extra sharp. She giggled wildly before she retracted them back in. V stopped her laugh and sheepishly thanked, "This was actually kind of fun, J. We should do this again, thank you."

J stopped and realized that she actually had fun too, the two disassembly drones had been like two girls at a slumber party where J was doing V's nails. The more boastful disassembly drone flipped her glossy left pigtail and said in a catty but playful tone, "As long as N doesn't crash the party I am so sure we're going to be doing this often!"

To Be Continued

[wing-ed-thing]

Honey Cakes (Shino x Reader) Chapter IV

Synopsis: You were stupid. You made a stupid choice; it left you with the first real heartache of your life and you could safely admit that you deserved it. But then the war came. And as quickly as it came, it was over. So what about you and Shino? Sequel to Honey Stand.

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V

Word Count: 3k

Warnings/Tags: Gender Neutral Reader, Post War, Slow Burn, Slight Canon Divergence, Fake Tech Talk, Aged Up Characters, Minor Original Characters, Mild Sexual Harassment

Notes: This chapter was supposed to be a brief scene that was like a page long. Gif not mine.

The rest of the journey to the eastern base was made in silence, but you and Shino managed to reach your destination before noon the next day where you were welcomed to rest and restock your supplies. The base commander himself greeted you outside with a few of his leadership and a strong handshake. Shino disappeared inside as you greeted the various captains and squad leaders. He, no doubt, went to change out of his clothes that were still slightly damp from the night before. The commander, an older man with thick eyebrows, took your hand in both of his, eagerly ushering you inside to speak more about their new communication system. The eastern base, apparently, didn’t get many visitors. 

It had to have been evening by the time you actually got to work on the installation job. You changed into a simple cotton shirt and pants a few hours ago, attire taken from a neat pile in one of the storage closets you were welcomed to raid. Surely, you wanted to get home quickly to prepare for Naruto and Hinata’s wedding (not to mention be rid of your grumbling companion), but part of you couldn’t help but enjoy the peace that came with a non-urgent mission. You could take some time with your work. Half of a rice cracker stuck out of your mouth as you took to tinkering. You were just relieved to have a bed indoors to sleep in for the night. 

A tall figure came to lean in the door frame. So focused on your handiwork, you hardly noticed your audience. The sides of your work goggles blocked out your peripheral vision anyway. But after a few moments, he tapped lightly on the frame. You looked up from your work instinctually.

“Sorry, I hope I’m not disturbing you.” Squad Leader Shou cleared his throat as he tugged at the collar of his vest. His arms coiled across his chest. “I was curious. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.” Shou uncrossed his ankles to stand tall and broad at the room's entrance. He moved forward into the room.

Being the type to take pride in his uniform, shinobi attire complimented Shou nicely. Even with his informal stance, the squad leader gave off an air of officiality. Having worked predominantly with an for your friends— even the hokage insisted you use his first name— you couldn’t have cared less for formalities.

“No, I, uh…” you stammered, “You just surprised me, that’s all.” The rice cracker fell from your lips. You made an effort to grab it, but once it hit the ground, it quickly spiraled somewhere across the room. You made direct eye contact with Shou. You offered him sheepish laughter as you set down your tools to search for your runaway snack. You leaned down in front of him to go crawling under tables and equipment, but he placed a light touch on your shoulder.

“Leave it,” Shou said. He stepped forward with hands shoved in his pockets as you scrambled to stand and back up at his imposing presence. He grinned a boyish smile and shrugged. “The cadets on chore duty will get it tomorrow morning. I’m more interested in this new toy you’re giving us.” He walked around you towards your project, brushing your forearm as he did.

“Oh, um…” The squad leader’s expectant, yet patient expression made you realize that most you said to him up until that point were hums. “I mean, it’s not too much different than your field coms, just with a few more bells and whistles.” You maneuvered to stand next to him, gesturing to the progress you had already made. Wires ran from a nest of advanced circuitry in the wall into a large tablet on the counter. Another wire connected the tablet to your personal system. When you were done, you would be installing the tablet directly into the command center.

Shou stood to your right, nodding along as you explained. He leaned, hovering over you as you held up the detached system. Shou hummed, resting one palm on the counter in front of him while appearing uncertain as to where to place the other.

“It’s a brilliant innovation,” Shou said, finally settling on a light touch to your left shoulder.

“Thank you. I hope that it can do you all some good out here.” Your tongue pushed against the insides of your teeth as you worked at the last few screws to finally complete your first installation. You shrugged him off unconsciously as you focused on finishing the job. Shou hummed once more, letting an acute pause pass the two of you by.

“So, I was thinking…” Shou shifted again in your peripheral, rejected hand coming to rest along the small of your back, just above your scroll holder. “I’ll be headed back into the village soon for leave. I was hoping we could see each other again.” 

“Oh, for sure,” you answered absentmindedly. Your hand shot out to stabilize a small piece of falling equipment which you quickly screwed into place. The motion shrugged him off once more. “I know a bunch of Jōnin and Chūnin who do a happy hour sort of thing on Fridays.” You turned to start organizing your equipment. Shou maneuvered around the table you had set your things on, following your line of sight.

“Well, uh, I was hoping the two of us could get together.” Your eyes shot up, finally breaking out of your tunnel vision. Shou leaned forward on the table. “You know, like dinner or something.” Your racing thoughts stopped your hands as they hovered over your toolbox.

“I’m sorry,” you offered, “I, uh, don’t date coworkers.” You shook your head, quickly snapping the lid of your box shut and sealing it away back into your storage scroll. Thoughts of Shino and the rest of your group of friends flashed quickly in your mind. The paper curled itself up with a snap. You pushed it back into the scroll holder strapped to the small of your back and turned to leave. Shou rounded the table to slide out in front of you.

“I mean we’re technically not coworkers at all. I mean, this brilliant engineer comes from central… can you blame me for shooting my shot?” He offered you a wide-eyed pout. “Let me take you out to dinner.” You let out a deep sigh.

“Squad Leader…”

“Captain.” Shou matched your tone of playful warning with raised brows and a cheeky smirk. Your next sigh came out as a breathy laugh.

“I’m flattered, but I have to decline.” Looking at him made the silence of the room feel stifling. “I’m not really ready for any of that right now. I feel like things have been all over the place since the war—” You made an attempt to move past him, but Shou blocked your path. 

“The war was years ago. C’mon, I know a great place.”

You took in a breath, ready to retort but you were beaten to the punch.

“Learn to take no for an answer, Squad Leader.” 

Shino stood just inside the door. Even indoors, his shades were still dark and made his expression unintelligible. He clutched a parcel of bundled fabric in one hand. You didn’t notice the fist his other hand had balled into. Shou frowned. 

“Can I help you with something, Aburame?” He squared his shoulders and straightened his back, his demeanor shifting completely as Shou sized Shino up. Even with Shou’s chest puffed out, Shino still stood slightly taller. 

“I came to talk to my partner.” 

“Well, the Jōnin are talking right now.” Shou’s brows lifted in amusement. He tucked his hands in the top of his vest about where the straps met the body. “Give us a sec, won’t you, bud?”

“We should actually be talking over travel,” you said, making eye contact with Shino’s glasses before shifting your attention back to Shou. The squad leader clenched his jaw ever so slightly. “Have a good night.” Shou let out a light chuckle soaked with discomfort and frustration. He tried his best not to let it show.

“Yeah, of course…” he conceeded. Shou leaned towards you and spoke in a low tone. His back faced Shino completely. “I’m a man of patience. How about I find you when I’m back in the village and we can take it from—”

“I believe it’s time you’ve left, Squad Leader.” Shino’s voice cut through the room faster and sharper than a shurriken. Shou turned to eye your partner from over his shoulder. Shino pivoted, shifting the slightest bit out of the way of the doorframe. “Your advances don’t appear to be welcome.”

Shou took a step towards Shino. You walked quietly around the table as the two men grew closer to each other, ready to intervene should the situation escalate. 

“I don’t know how it works over at central, but you really shouldn’t make a habit of ordering other people around in a base that’s not yours and interrupting conversations that don’t concern you.” He took another step forward. “There’s an order to things around here. You should know that, Aburame.”

“And you should know that sexual harassment is poor conduct, Squad Leader.” 

Shino drawled out Shou’s title which about made the eastern base shinobi see red. The distance was swiftly closing between them as Shino took a step forward. At that point, you swiftly inserted yourself in between them with one palm at the front of Shino’s vest and the other on Shou’s. You gave both of them a slight push, but neither of them moved.

“Enough, the two of you!” you scolded, a vein in your forehead twitching as you gave the two shinobi another push. Shou ignored you and as he took another step forward, you faced him completely with Shino directly behind you. One hand still rested on the front of Shou’s vest while the other hovered cautiously in front of you as if you were about to tame a wild animal. You felt Shino move behind you and your hovering hand shot back to swat randomly at your mission partner before returning to your front. Shou stared past your head.

“You’re accusing me of shit that could get me suspended because you want to feel like a white knight, eh, Aburame? You’re not satisfied with your cushy job at central that you feel like you gotta show up guys who actually earn their keep in the ranks?” Shino frowned, as stoic as he usually was, but you could hear the hive. You could hear the sound of beetles hitting the inside of Shino’s ribcage, throwing themselves around his body with reckless abandon. You looked into his dark glasses, mentally pleading for him to drop his grievance with Shou. Whether he understood or not, Shino took a step back, but his retreat only seemed to enrage Shou more.

“Don’t back down now, man. Let’s take this outside. I’m not about to be disrespected—”

Shou grabbed your wrist and forcibly threw you to the side, his piercing glare trained only on Shino. Your side slammed into the table your tools had just been on, and the moment you picked yourself back up, Shino already had Shou by the collar of his vest. The squad leader’s back hit an adjacent wall with a blunt bang before his boots left the floor. He beat at Shino’s arm with a snarl. 

Fuck.

The base commander wasn’t going to like this.

“Shino!” you barked, “Stand down.” Your eyes darted wildly around the room.

Shit.

Shino seethed quietly to Shou, brushing your command aside as he continued to grumble. He still held the parcel wrapped in fabric in his other hand. You heard booted feet running down the hall, no doubt because of the commotion. 

“Aburame!” you snapped, marching over to tug at the back of his jacket. You studied the back of his hulking figure which paused as Shou continued to squirm in his chokehold. He was listening. “Don’t you forget that Kakashi assigned me as the primary for this mission. Don’t make me ask again.” 

It was only when you pulled rank that Shou collapsed on the floor at Shino’s feet. You stumbled a few steps back as Shou made for the exit. You watched him leave in disbelief. You turned swiftly back towards Shino.

“What’s gotten into you—” 

“They were starting to take dinner away. I didn’t see you there.” Shino threw the fabric parcel into your arms, the corner of it knocking into your chin. He appeared otherwise unbothered as he tugged over a chair. Even with the seat lowered, he still matched the approximate height of your standing form. “We should discuss how we plan on getting to the next base considering the obstruction.” With a flick of his wrist, the knot at the top of the fabric unfurled. A simple container of greens with modest toppings sat among two napkins filled with snacks. Shino studied you with his head in his palm as you stared down at what he brought you. You shook your head, little hairs flying wildly in your face as you tried to grasp what just happened. “I brought your favorite. I thought you would be pleased.”

You looked between him and the door, stammering slightly. You lips parted, a strangled sound escaping your throat that didn’t resemble words. It all happened so fast, you stood and tried to replay it all in your head. 

“I have to talk to the base commander.” You shook your head again, trying to wrap your head around what to do. You sifted through consequences and timing. You were the lead on this mission and at the end of the day Shino’s actions were your responsibility. It didn’t matter whether or not you wanted to punch that jerk in the face yourself, the state of things made everything fragile. Shino continued to stare.

“You can talk to the base commander.” He shrugged, seeming otherwise uninterested. “You might have better luck in the morning. It’s not like they’re going to kick us out.” You turned, scanning the room until you found a clock. 

“Oh… I didn’t realize how late it was…” you muttered as your shoulders deflated. The need to act fluttered around your chest and settled as a pit in your stomach. No wonder you felt so tense and stiff. You had been working on the system installation for a few hours.

Shino pushed the food container with the tips of his fingers, moving them towards you on the table. With no other choice, you pulled up a seat. 

A silence overtook the room and in that silence, you pulled the dinner towards you. Thoughts raced through your mind, formulating the outline of a script for when you talk to the base commander in one corner and the start of the incident report in a different section. And in the middle played memories of home-cooked, sunset dinners at the Aburame honey stand.

You ate what Shino brought you as quietly as you could.

“We should leave early—”

—“I’m surprised you remembered.”

You both spoke simultaneously, leaving tension and clumsy awkwardness in your wake. Your lips pursed. You knew that Shino needed his glasses as an aid for him to keep focus, but with how unreadable they make his expressions, you couldn’t help but wonder if you would find him more expressive if he covered the lower half of his face instead of the top. The both of you sat in discomfort, waiting for the other to talk.

“Remembered what?”

“Well, I should still probably talk—”

You pursed your lips again. To your surprise, Shino offered a patient gesture for you to continue speaking. You held a couple of fingers to your lips as you finished chewing. You swallowed before you spoke, poking at the field communication device on your forearm.

“I should still talk to the base commander. The last thing I’d want is for us to have problems because we picked a fight with a Squad Leader and ran off into the night. I’ll write up a report tonight—”

“What happened earlier was justified. I don’t see how it could have been handled any differently.” 

The sudden sternness in Shino’s voice pulled you from your rambling thoughts. He stared into your eyes and you couldn’t help but wonder once more about what expression he held behind his dark shades. You averted your gaze back to your food in an attempt to not read too much into Shino’s words. You dragged your chopsticks across a piece of lettuce. You gathered it into a bite-sized bundle but left it in the container.

“I had it handled.” Your voice came out smaller than you intended. The words sounded small, pushed too forcefully as they spilled from your lips. “I had a plan and I was going to solve it my way.”

“I know you did,” Shino mused. He wondered whether he should have gotten involved. It was too late now. “It was a conduct issue.” You about snorted and couldn’t help how your eyebrows knitted together.

“A conduct issue?” you repeated, amusement in the undercurrent of your tone.

“Mhm.” A small smile began to overtake your pursed lips and Shino watched as it did. You ate another piece of your salad with a slight shake of your head. The playful expression melted quickly. The corners of Shino’s mouth tugged downwards into a concerned frown. “What?”

Another pause. You laid your chopsticks down on the edges of the food container. 

“Why do you do that—” You stared down at your half-eaten meal, features of your face scrunched up in thought. You regretted placing your utensils down and took to playing with the large top ends. —“Act like you don’t care about things when you do?”

“Things?”

You met his gaze. Shino leaned forward to rest his crossed arms on the table. 

“Yeah,” you said breathlessly. “Things… It’s not fair.”

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed and otherwise supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V

Notes: Dropping these chapters like this makes me feel like I’ve rolled up to your home, am walking around throwing money in the air, and disappearing never to be seen again. Whelp, see you all after the next round of writer’s block.

[kartywarty]

is everyone revealing ocs now??? hi welcome to my top ten facts about my ocs

no.1 Halbert K. Robinson

1. he has viltigo and hides it by wearing his mask a lot

2 .works as a janitor to clean the base

3. was forced to resort to working in a crime due to skin condition, he was framed for a crime he didn’t commit and because people thought he looked weird COUGHS. i wonder who said that ?? huh

4. ex-fire fighter, all his training went down the drain

5. hes 37 and is 5’4” ft tall

6. is actually matt engarde from aa!/j

7. seen as a lower class because of his mask, but in reality he once lifted a whole ass couch just to clean under it

8. the “K” in his name stands for “Karl”

9. he has keys to every room/area in the base so he can clean

10. was hired because he had a “criminal history”, he had to beg to live and only had an option to join mary (he was hired before he knew larry was in control)

btw guys im still figuring out his lore idk guys

no.2 Riktor V. Markov

1. speaks russian and BARELY understands english

2. has a translator to help him understand (will be mentioned next)

3. looks very intimidating, but hes rarely soft to people sometimes

4. his dad was a godfather for a mafia back in russia, he eventually got arrested and riktor had to migrate to robloxia with his soon to be his translator

5. 5’8” ft tall and is 42 years old

6. uses his bonesaw as defense

7. his hair isnt gray, his hair is ashy blonde

8. the “V” in his name is “Victor”

9. his mom got executed by another mafia that was against his father and he was forced to witness it with his bare eyes

10. his favorite medical tool is the bonesaw

no.3 Feliks Novikov

1. he is half russian and half american

2. is riktors translator, hes actually helped riktor migrate away and have been childhood friends. they were bullies before

3. has actually been hired by larry in the past, once retired when larry was defeated, later has been recruited by mary

4. convinced mary to hire riktor for medic

5. 5’4” ft tall, 40

6. has a family of 2 and is married, he has a son and a baby daughter.

7. loves jazz he even plays the saxophone

8. plays in a band with the other henchmen in the evil base, hes the lead

9. hes a gentleman and respects his higherups

10. was actually favored a lot by larry

no.4 Scary Autry (Autry P. Harrington)

1. his face in the past had scarring and acne (his face is greasy, one of the reasons why he hides his face)

2. bffs with barry, cabbage (another break in oc), and danry (also another break in oc). they are known as the “alphabet fourlets”

3. his mom left him few months after he was born, he was raised by his dad and grew up with toxic masculinity OH NO WHO SAID THAT AHH!!

4. hates mary and larry A LOT. he hates larry for defending mary and he hates mary for trying to reveal his own face COUGHC OUGH (rreference to my fanfic about his backstory)

5. 6’4” ft tall, he is 68 years old

6. he knows karate, kung fu, and bare knuckle boxing

7. seems to be really harsh but just blocks out feelings

8. loves wearing boots.

9. the weapon he uses are golden brass knuckles

10. hes TERRIBLE at playing instruments, he was failing music class during his origin phase

no.5 oswald the hacker/guest

1. his real name/username is Guest0091288

2. he listens to ivycomb and babymetal

3. he was once a guest, he had a lot of good progress while playing other games throughout roblox, until they banned guests. oswald did not accept losing his progress and took things the hard way by somehow reviving his guest account, he fleed to break in to blend in by the guest role, he was caught few weeks ago but managed to still escape by becoming a different role in which he didnt even pay for (hacker role)

4. he has an illumina instead of the classic sword, he uses his phone to spawn holograms tthat act like a shield

5. he is 5’1” and is ageless

6. he hates wearing the caps guests wore, he didnt like how it felt

7. he does not speak, he uses tts (text to speech). the tts program he uses is the alpha moonbase tts

8. loooves making fun of people, even when hes successful to get away with it

9. can impersonate/shapeshift into other characters and users, however his tts voice still remains the same

10. very unpredictable.

no.6 Carter J. Dickgum (self insert)

1. married to bradley beans

2. almost had a divorce arc Thanks for hanging out with me!

3. named “Carter” instead of “Karter” because of his curved smile (get it)

5. 5’5” ft tall and 45 years old

6. shaves and HATES HAVING A Stubblle

7. doesnt like working out most of the time

8. his emotions appear to be VERY obvious, he is very expressive

9. works as a cashier at tacobell

10. wears mismatched socks everyday.

Okay guys thansk for tunkng in chatn! ‘My sunshine students

[obscurecharactershowdown]

Round 5

[image ID: the first image is of Turnip, a teal mouse. it looks like they're wearing little shorts. the second image is of Granger, a girl with green eyes and short, wavy or curly black hair. in her hair is a red hat or ribbon. she's wearing a black turtleneck sweater, blue overalls, and a green coat. end ID]

Turnip

Little guy!!! Littlest dude!! Best mouse in the world. They’re so scared of the dark and nervous about messing things up but they do their best!! They go through the dark tunnel to meet you and deliver an important message!! And while they may have gotten lost on the way back, you’re able to help and together you escape! (Also canonically they sent a birthday card like months too late and also got lost going from the donut shop to their house which is like two blocks) luv them my favorite little guy <3

Granger

so granger is the main character of the indie game "NeverHome" Chapter one, which is only $1 on Steam, is called NeverHome: Hall of Apathy. if ur a fan of young protags being put in RPG maker horror games, then this is the game for you!! so granger is just that… she wakes up to find herself in a strange, hostile world. she, along with the friends she makes, must solve the various puzzles before them while creatures are out to kill them… and along the way they can uncover the secrets of these never ending halls… her dynamics with the cast is also super fun… each character gets their moment or moments with granger. and what's so cute is that there's unique art for each pair that highlights the fact you cant get through these halls alone!! she also has her own theme song!! here!! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d_vwtmIj5cw it's called cyclical tragedy AND HERE IS AN ANALYSIS OF THE THEME!! MUSIC THEORY!!! written by my good friend @HIEMIOLA "cyclical tragedy" embodies the protagonist, granger, through the music theory behind the track and ties itself back into the main track as well. to begin with an overview of the track, the key is D minor and hte time signature is 3/4. the piece begins with a broken minor third starting from the tonic. that is, it begins on the main note and moves along the main chord, D to F. the next set of notes are C to E, which is shifted down a step. the phrase repeats again, this time D to F, then G to E, which is an inverse movement from the original sequence. even in this first part, we could tell that the protagonist begins from square 1 with a simple pattern, then tries it again when it works. however, the inverse breaks that expectation of repetition, thus showing the diverse variations of solutions she comes up with using just the tools she has (the two notes moving in thirds). just like the game, she is given a handful of objects as well as a knife to defend herself and solve the mysteries of the world she exists in. with her creative uses of the items given to her, she continues on her way through the plot. we will keep moving. the melody begins. true to the title of the track, the melody cycles around the same beginning note, D, that she always returns to at her square 1. this is a nod to the save states she is allowed to keep to make sure that we the players don't lose the game, but it also references the health bar that appears as a circle around her avatar. the melody, mapped out, is also moving in an up-down wave movement across the sheet music. granger is creative with the knife she has and the quest items she obtains throughout the story, but she is not entirely reckless. rather, she knows when it is time to return to the safe rooms to rest. to time her returns requires skill because she must run to cover without being caught by varying her path so the enemies don't corner her as she tries to return to the room. most of the time, she is successful, shown through the consistent return to the beginning note. let's keep going. i would like to turn your attention to the main theme briefly. in the bass notes, you can hear arpeggios and outlined chords. this makes up the bulk of the accompaniment in the main game theme. [mod note: the rest of the essay, and some more propaganda, is continued under a cut because tumblr will not process more text than this in an indent. sorry to split it up, please continue below for the rest of the essay and additional propaganda!]

the third variation of granger's theme also has arpeggiated chords in the accompaniment while the melody features broken chords. at this stage, the pattern switches to eigth notes instead of the quarter notes at first. with greater movement and heightened senses, she runs throughout world and befriends other people, thus interacting further with the environment. while she isn't exactly someone we would call open, she is respectful to the people she first meets and has no problems with asking them for help when she needs it. because of her openness to working together, she speeds up her progress by asking for aid at obstacles that would be too difficult for her to overcome on her own, such as asking a teammate to break things, move things, or reach into smaller holes. fusing the main theme elements with her own theme marks this step as the inciting incident that sets her on the path to escape from this world. we'll continue.

continuing the same part, we hear some secondary fifths. i'm not entirely sure if this is what you call it, but it is a nod to the parallel key, D major. depending on what theory class you take, this could also be considered the other half of the key. i dont know how else to describe it, but i digress. these are glimpses to different dialogue options she could take, glimpses to a different key or a different ending. because this game only has one chapter ending so far, we are unsure of what other paths granger will end up in; we only know that there are certainly other endings she will experience, only to begin the cycle again when the save state is loaded for players to reach another ending. both A major and G major are chords that signify different choices that may lead her elsewhere only for her to return back to the tonic or main note, D. despite this, she keeps going, as will we.

at the midpoint of the track, we see a quick shift in patterns. instead of upward leaps in the notes, the melody falls in stepwise motion. true to the plot, this is another turning point of the game when she is forced to make a choice: continue or stop. after facing the spoiler event, her once determined personality is challenged as she struggles to keep herself and her team together. despite being the headstrong protagonist who spearheaded solutions, even now she finds herself doubting and taking smaller steps, smaller risks.

even after all of this, she rises to the challenge as the melody returns to its beginning sequence. true to a protagonist she gets up again despite the events that transpired and keeps her team moving in their lowest points. the thirds return as she finds more objects to solve more puzzles to open more rooms to save more friends. this repeating part of the track only solidifies her resolve as the piece ends with a broken chord in the main key, her key, of D minor. despite everything that transpired, she stayed true to herself."

the game is also so, so charming with the art, music, and story made by the same person… its so clearly loved and full of passion!! i love listening to the game's ost on occassion!! since it's all on youtube!

ok one last thing thing!! on may 8th, the game hit 100 downloads (on both steam and itch.io). you can see the creator of the game celebrate that with this lovely drawing of granger: https://twitter.com/NeverHome_Game/status/1655761270694633472

so at most, only a bit over 100 people have played the game… id like to say that makes it obscure!!

anyways granger and neverhome!! we love to see our protagonists put in horrific situations and isn't she super cute with a lil bow on her head? she is my daughter…

[additional propaganda 1]

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[snaillamp]

Sicktember - day 8

8. Persistent fever

Hal’s body was covered in a light sheen of sweat as he walked up the stairs. He stumbled over a step, loosing balance. Joe’s strong arms caught him, steadying him, before he looked at Hal. “Hey, you okay?” Hal looked up, his tired eyes distant as he nodded. “Yeah… just tired…” Joe nodded, clearing his throat. “Come on, the boss is waiting.”

Hal nodded, standing straighter and following Joe up the stairs. Their boss, Jenny had called them in before shift today, it must be something important. They got to Jenny’s office, Joe knocking on the door and opening the door. “Hey, we’re here.” Joe looked back at Hal, beckoning him in and shutting the door.

The two men stood in front of their boss, watching her as she sat back and smiled. “Boys.” Hal and Joe looked at her, slightly nervous. Had they done something wrong? Received a complaint? Treated a patient incorrectly? They two of them stood in tense silence as Jenny stood up and walked around to the front of her desk, leaning against it. “I'm so sorry for doing this, but we had Michael and Sarah go home early, that virus going around, anyway, I need you both to take the night shift, no one else can do it.”

Hal groaned internally, that’s just what he needed. A night shift when he already felt so shit? Thanks, understaffing.

Hal and Joe both deflated, annoyed at they would have to do more overtime, but that was the nature of their job, right? They trudged back down the stairs, into the main room where they collapsed on the nearest couch, Hal’s eyes beginning to slide shut almost immediately. It was only 9:30 pm.

A loud, grating alarm emerging from his radio made him jerk violently out of his sleep. Joe was already up and listening to the words coming out of the radio. Hal’s mind was a few seconds behind the radio. Joe moved out of the door, Hal easing up slowly from the couch and clearing his throat. It had a slight tickle in it, but Hal pushed it from his mind.

As he raced to the ambulance, Joe was already grabbing things, running around like a maniac. “MVA, code 5, car v bus.” He gasped in Hal’s direction, sending a zing down Hal’s spine. Car and bus collision? It must be bad if it’s a code 5. Hal shot into action and within seconds, their ambulance was streaking down the street, lights and sirens blaring as they raced to the scene.

~~

By the time they got there, there was already another ambulance and a fire truck taking up most of the road. A large bus was lying on it’s side, a massive Dodge Ram crumpled up some meters away. A firefighter emerged from the chaos, beckoning them over. Joe and Hal nodded, grabbing their bags and walked onto the scene. ‘Walk with purpose, no running…’ Hal reminded himself, trying to keep the adrenaline surging through his veins to a minimum. His heart was already pounding as he walked to the Ram, the firefighter walking around to the skylight, already smashed to pieces.

Hal took the lead, leaning in and looking at the young, drunk frat boy strapped to the seat. He was shaking, blood pouring down his forehead as he stared at Hal in fear. Hal’s mind flicked into gear as he began surveying his patient. “Hey, I’m Hal, can you tell me your name, man?” The frat boy looked down at Hal in fear, “J-Jas-s-son…” Hal nodded, “Okay, Jason, I’m gonna help you okay, but you need to do what I say. Now take a deep breath and calm down. I’ve got you.”

Jason drew in a shuddering breath as he tried to calm down, Joe popping up by the passenger window above him. “Hey, Jason, I’m Joe. Me ’n my buddy Hal over there are help you, so calm down for these firefighters okay?” Hal had moved into position, his tools ready.

The firefighters slid Jason out of the car, Joe and Hal descending onto him, assessing him from head to toe. “CAcBC looks okay.” Hal muttered to Joe as they slid head blocks around the frat boy’s head. “SMR though, just to be safe.” Joe confirmed, before looking down at Jason. “Hey Jason, ya hurting anywhere, man?” Jason tried to shake his head, before Joe placed a gentle hand on his chest. “Stay still for me buddy, talk to me.”

“I-I’m fine…” Jason stammered, looking scared. Now that both the paramedics were leaning over him, they could smell the scent of the alcohol in his breath. “Okay, let’s book it. The adrenaline might be masking something.” Hal suggested, as a firefighter brought over the stretcher from nearby.

It was lucky it was night time and the bus had only had the driver on board, he was fine, but it was Jason that Hal was worried about as he jumped in the back of the ambulance. Joe began the short drive to the hospital, as Hal sat back in his seat for a minute, shutting his eyes and taking a deep, shaky breath in. He wasn’t feeling great, but that wasn’t anything a coffee couldn’t fix when they were back at the station. Turning to Jason he continued to assess him, talking to the kid as he worked.

His head was starting to ache as he looked down, sniffing a little. “Mmnn… Okay, you seem good. You’re lucky kid.” Hal murmured, his voice croaking slightly. “This is your stop.” He said, sitting back in the seat for a second. His bones felt heavy as he took a deep breath. “You okay?” Jason asked nervously. Hal looked up, nodding tiredly. “Yeah… Just tired. Long week…” Joe pulled open the doors, coughing into his elbow quickly and saving Hal from any more conversation.

The two paramedics wheeled Jason in, Joe explaining to a waiting nurse what his situation was. Hal wheeled him to a waiting room, before wandering back to Joe, leaning against the wall nearby, watching the nurses bustle about. One of the nurses noticed him, coming over. “Hal?” Hal looked up, forcing his heavy eyelids open. “Hal, are you okay?” It was Claire, an older nurse who was like a mother to all the paramedics. Claire was a superhuman, able to calm the most violent patients and work the toughest shifts, and she always looked out for everyone.

Right now, she had zeroed in on Hal.

Joe came over, noticing Claire beginning to fuss over Hal and frowned. “Everything good?” He asked confused, the shadows under his eyes more obvious in the fluorescent light of the ER. Hal sighed, nodding tiredly. “Yeah… Just tired after everything, ya know.” His mind drifted to the massive structure fire all the first responders had been called to. A large conference hall had gone up in flames with many party goers inside. Hal and Joe had all worked non-stop until they were ordered to take a break, both of them collapsing into the beds at the station and sleeping for hours. Ever since that Monday night, people had been taking shifts off, plus some virus was going around and getting everyone sick, plus who knows what else. Claire put a gloved hand on Hal’s forehead.

“Hal, you feel a bit warm, honey. Maybe you should take the rest of your shift off.” Hal pulled away, “No, there’s no one else to fill in. It’s just one shift, I’ll survive.” Claire looked skeptical but stepped away. “Stubborn as always.” She retorted as Hal and Joe made their way towards the door.

In the ambulance, Joe glanced over at Hal, who was resting his face against the window, eyes shut as he tried to fight off the growing headache. “Hey, you sure you’re good?” Hal half opened his eyes, looking at Joe before sighing. “Mmmm… Yeah… Migrane I think.” Joe grimaced, “Wanna stop by Bear’s on the way, grab an energy drink and some pain killers?” Hal shut his eyes again, nodding slightly.

~~

Joe pulled into the car park, the large, glowing red letters illuminating their faces in the ambulance. Hal stared up at the convenience store, unable to find the energy to get out. “Hey, it's my shout, I’ll go buy it.” Hal nodded, shutting his eyes as the door slammed shut...

A hand shoved him roughly, waking him up. “Aye, Hal.”

Joe looked at him as Hal jerked, sniffing as he looked up at Joe in confusion. “Hm?”

Joe thrust the energy drink and card at him, before undoing the seal on the box of paracetamol. “Here, buddy.” Joe’s voice lowered, slightly gravelly, his hand holding out the small tablet sheet. Hal cracked open the drink, savoring the sweet taste of artificial strawberries, taking the tablets and popping a couple out. Taking a swig of the can he following it up with the two tablets, grimacing at the taste, but gasping with relief once he swallowed. Joe hopped back in the driver’s seat, cracking open his own can of drink and setting off towards the station.

Hal continued to sip on his drink as Joe messed with the stereo, clearing his throat, before massaging his neck. He was flicking between ancient pop songs and grating christian country music, which sounded like a goose had recorded a hit on a potato powered tin can microphone whilst being strangled.

“Ugh… Turn that off, my ears are going to fall off.” Hal groaned, covering his ears. Joe laughed, turning the radio off as they pulled into the station. “Well, they'd be doing you a favour. We’re here anyway now, so...”

The paramedics got out of their ambulance, beginning the arduous yet necessary process of cleaning everything and restocking their supplies. Hal lost his balance, staggering a little after he pushed the stretcher back in, Joe rushing to grab him again. “Woah, Hal… What’s up with you?” Hal groaned, slumping against Joe’s body and hanging his head “Need to sleep…” He mumbled. Joe chuckled, “Alright buddy, come on.”

Hal and Joe made it to the break room, both collapsing on the couch with dramatic groans. Hal shut his eyes, rising his forearm on his pounding head. “Hey…” He groaned weakly. Joe looked up from the other couch, coughing a little. “Yeah?” Hal grimaced, before sitting up. “Can you grab me a glass of water… this migraine is really acting up…” Joe smiled softly, nodding as he stood, coming back with a cool glass of water. “Here, man.”

Hal took the glass gratefully, sipping the cool water and sighing. His mind seemed to settle as the paracetamol finally set in, but if he just kept telling him this was just a migraine...

~~

As the night shift went on, Hal began feeling worse and worse. His skin broke out in a sheen of sweat and he began to shake. Cold chills danced down his bones as worked, doing paperwork, and checks on the ambulance. He didn’t notice Joe watching him as he shuffled slowly around.

“Hey, Hal, man… What’s up with you bro?” He was frowning over at Hal, slouched against the couch, typing at his computer. “I’m fi-ughhh…” A radio interrupted him, Joe and Hal both groaning in annoyance. They both piled into the ambulance, Joe taking the wheel and driving off into the night.

“Hal… Are you sure you’ve got a migraine? You look a little pale.” Hal, who had his arm propped against the door, leaning his head against his hand looked up. “Yeah. The pills helped but I think I just need some time to sleep, to be honest.” Joe glanced at him, worried. “Nightmares again?” Hal didn’t reply, but Joe knew Hal struggled with nightmares especially after a week like they'd had. Everyone got them, that was the nature of the job, but Hal seemed to get them more than most. It was usually about the same brutal case though. Kids were never fun to treat, especially after house fires. He sniffed, looking back to the road, trying to push the headache forming slowly from his mind.

They pulled up at the address, walking to the door and knocking. “Hello? Ambulance!” Joe called out. Hal tried the door, it was unlocked. That figured, it was a pretty upscale neighbourhood, no one locked their doors in this part of town. It was dumb, really, but helpful for situations like this. Or it was a sign of danger… Hal and Joe decided to take their chance.

“Hello?” Hal called out, his voice weaker and rougher sounding than Joe’s. Joe threw him a look, Hal knowing what it meant. ‘You’re sick, admit it.’

“Over here!” A feeble voice called out in the darkness. Joe fumbled for a light switch, finding it and illuminating the hallway with a warm white light. Gleaming white tiles almost blinded the two paramedics as they walked further into the suave house. “Get your asses into gear!” The voice called out again. It seemed to be coming from the kitchen, directly in front of them.

Walking over, Hal and Joe found an elderly woman lying on the ground, a shattered glass beside her and water spilled everywhere. “Took you long enough!” She grumbled.

Switching into gear, Hal and Joe got down on their knees, assessing her whilst she rambled on about how long it took for them to get there. Joe muttered something, masking his sarcasm as he apologised for how sorry he was it took them so long. It seemed to shut her up for a while, whilst Joe grabbed the stretcher. Helping her onto it, the two of them strapped her in and set off for hospital, worried about a broken hip. “Car 0471, we are headed to Sacred Heart with a suspected NOF, ETA is 15 minutes.” Hal heard Joe as he rattled off into his message, clearing his throat, before the ambulance started slowly down the road. The woman, Doreen, seemed much happier now she had some analgesia. She chattered away to Hal about her gardenias and fancy pool and retirement, as Hal slouched in his chair, nodding away, but not really listening as he began to feel worse and worse. By the time the ambulance got to the hospital, Hal could barely move, he felt so shivery and cold.

Joe pulled the doors open, dragging Doreen from the back, whilst Hal stumbled out after her. They pushed her inside, wheeling her into a waiting examination room and handing over to the doctor standing by. Claire appeared from nowhere, smiling tiredly as the two paramedics signed over some documents. “If it isn’t my two favourite paramedics! How’s the night treating you, boys?” Joe smiled tiredly, turning to Claire and chatting as Hal swayed slightly, buzzing in his ears making his head hurt and vision blur. He heard Claire in the distance, echoey and concerned. “Hal, honey… Are you- shit, he’s going down!”

Everything went black.

~~

Hal groaned softly, swaying a little beside Claire. She turned, looking at his glazed over expression as he stared at nothing. His shoulders were drooping, arms hanging heavily by his side as the blood drained from his face. “Hal, honey…” She started, her tone sympathetic and low. Hal’s eyes flicked to her for a second before they rolled back and his knees buckled. “Are you- shit, he’s going down!” Claire grabbed Hal, lowering him to the ground slowly, as another nurse came rushing over.

“Dr. Tang!” Claire yelled across the room at a doctor, who raced over, skidding to a stop by Hal and Joe. “What happened?” He breathed, checking Hal’s pulse. “He’s tachy, get a stretcher over here!” He called out, two nurses already rushing over with one. “On go, 3, 2, 1, GO!” Dr. Tang ordered, helping Claire and Joe lift Hal’s limp body off the floor. Joe followed anxiously behind the stretcher as the doctor and nurses continued their work.

~~

“He’s getting worse, the fluids aren’t doing anything… Strip him down, get him cool.” Dr Tang ordered. Joe looked up sleepily from his chair, confused. His head was beginning to ache, had been since the shift, but it was barely noticeable before. He glanced at Hal, hooked up to an IV as a nurse pulled him out of his uniform. Saturated with sweat, his shirt peeled off his chest as the nurse exposed it, patting it down with a cool compress.

Joe groaned, leaning back in the chair he was splayed out in, feeling worse and worse as the sickness crept up his spine. Dr Tang glanced over at Joe, looking concerned, “Hey, Joe… You alright brother?” Joe gasped, letting his head drop back over the back of the chair, groaning again. “Nhhh… I’m okay, just… I think Hal and I got the virus going around after all. I don’… I don’t feel so good…”

Dr Tang walked over to him, checking his temperature. “You’re hot. I think I should admit you as a precaution, Joe.” Joe waved him away. “No… Save a bed for someone who needs it, I’ll go home later… I just wanna make sure Hal’s okay.” He looked over at his friend, watching his chest rising and falling rapidly. “We only got one day off this week… Then the two guys on got sent home cause they got sick… We got called in…” Joe squeezed his eyes shut. “I’ll have a quick nap so I can drive home… Then I’ll go.” Dr Tang smiled, “Okay, let me know if you need anything.”

Joe nodded, his eyes already shut as he leaned back, his skin looking pale. He was starting to go downhill faster than Hal had, it was concerning Dr Tang. ~~

Dr Tang walked in two hours later, checking on Hal. His fever was persistent, his temperature had only gone up, despite his efforts to cool him down. He looked up as Joe, still passed out beside his partner. “Hm… Stubborn as usual.” He chuckled. Walking over to Joe, he looked at him closer, frowning. Joe looked washed out, sweat beading on his forehead, his breaths slow and shallow. “Joe?” Dr Tang spoke up, looking for a reaction.

Nothing.

Reaching forward, he gently shook the paramedic, who slumped sideways, falling from the chair. “Fuck- Joe!” Dr Tang jumped forwards, grabbing Joe before he hit the ground at the last second. “Hey, I need another bed in here!” He yelled, looking around desperately for help.

Claire came rushing in, a stretcher following close behind. “Oh no… Not him too…” Dr Tang looked up in concern, nodding. “Oh, Joe…” Claire pushed her way into the room, helping Dr Tang lift Joe up. As he was carried to the stretcher Joe groaned, lifting his head as his eyes fluttered open. “What’s…” His head dropped, before Dr Tang and Claire lay him out on the stretcher. “Wow, he crashed fast, huh?” Dr Tang mumbled as he worked to help Claire hook Joe up to an IV. “Yeah, and Hal isn’t improving, this fever is getting worse.” Dr Tang looked up at her, “I can only hope we can get on top of this…”

~~

Hal pulled open his eyes, shivering and coughing as he awoke. He glanced around, looking for Joe, wondering how long he had managed to sleep for. Surely his shift was over now. It dawned on him he wasn’t at work, the hustle and bustle of the ER around him finally clicking in his mind. He was lying in hospital. Wait… He was lying in hospital…?

“Joe?” He moaned, looking for his partner again. “Joe!” Claire came running in, looking relieved. “Hal! Oh, honey, look at you…” She softened, looking at him as she began taking his vitals again. “Where’s Joe…?” Hal rasped, looking up at her. “Hal… Joe collapsed too. You're both so overworked, fatigued and sick.” Hal frowned, “Joe is sick too?” Claire nodded, “I’m surprised you didn’t notice him slowing down too, you both got admitted.”

Fear crossed Hal’s face, “But what about the shift?” Claire smiled softly, brushing some hair from Hal’s sticky forehead. “Honey, it’s okay. Your shift ended 6 hours ago. Jenny called some guys over from the next town.” “And Joe?” He watched Claire’s face fall. “He’s not doing great. You were both really hyperthermic, we got you cooled down a little, just waiting on Joe to improve. You’re both pretty out of it right now.” “Can I… see him?” Hal gasped, pulling the blanket around his waist a little higher. “Later. Get some rest, huh?” Claire compromised, hiding the fear in her face.

~~

Joe groaned, rolling his head from side to side, trying to open his eyes. “Joe?” Hal’s anxious voice broke through the haze of sickness. “Take it easy, take it easy…” He felt a hand take his own. Finally, Joe managed to open his eyes, his eyes locked onto a blurry figure, taking a minute to focus, revealing a bedraggled looking Hal. “Shit… You look like hell.” He murmured.

Hal smirked, “Says the one who looks worse than me…” Joe looked around the room, the effort already tiring him out.

“How long?”

“Two days.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

He looked at Hal again, sighing, before he was overcome by coughs. “The virus is pretty brutal, but it clears pretty quickly. I’m already on the mend.” Hal smiled weakly as Joe wheezed, finally catching his breath.

“So I guess we finally got that break we were asking for…” He joked, coughing again. “Yeah…” Hal chuckled, coughing himself. “Use it while you can, man. I sure am…” He looked concerned. “Apparently it got pretty bad out there, most of the station is out of action right now.”

“Jeez…”

“I know.”

Joe sighed, shutting his eyes again, “Well, all the more reason to get back out there, huh?” He heard Hal move, exhaling loudly with the effort. “Hell yeah, brother.”

~masterlist~

[gabriellerudessa]

Compass (Norm Maclean x OC) - Part XV

“What about just cutting the fabric?”

“Can’t go around destroying my clothes, Norm-boy. It’s hard to come by any that fit me.” Marigold shook her head, then grinned, the extra trouble one, even if somewhat forced. “But if you really want to and ask nicely, I’m pretty sure we can fix something up.”

AO3 | Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Part XI | Part XII | Part XIII | Part XIV | Part XVI | Part XVII | Part XVIII | Part XIX | Part XX | Part XXI (Smut) | Part XXII | Part XXIII | Part XXIV | Part XXV | Part XXVI (Smut) | Part XXVII | Part XXVIII | Part XXIX | Part XXX | Part XXXI | Part XXXII | Part XXXIII |

PLAYLIST ON YOUTUBE

Words: 3.319

Warnings: Gunshot wounds being taken care of. Spicy thoughts lol

XV

Marigold went first, and he followed close behind. On the inside, beside the door, there was a light switch; he flipped it, and lights overhead lighted up, showing a narrow straight hall, a metal staircase at the end of it, another terminal close to the door, and an intercom. The only sounds were their breathings and the electricity buzzing through the lamps and terminal.

They explored cautiously, but it soon became obvious there wasn’t much to explore. The place was empty, no people or animals, most of the doors boarded off with metal or wood, windows blocked off with wood and metal. Only narrow slivers of space between the pieces let in some of the fading light of day.

In the ground floor, only three rooms were accessible: a kitchen, with a wood stove, an old counter with a functioning sink, a cabinet, and a wood table that should already be ancient when the bombs hit, solid and stable, with a group of mismatched chairs around it; a living room, with one sofa and armchair carefully positioned around a moth-eaten rug, and a bookshelf, some of the shelves containing pre-war books and an assortment of decorations; and what they a called “storage-room”, full of boxes and lockers and tool cabinets, carefully organized from their brief inspection.

The stairs led to a longer hallway, but similarly to the ground floor, only three weren’t blocked off: a bathroom, the shower head rusted off and broken on the ground, but overall in working condition; a bedroom, with a double bed with bedsheets and covers properly made, a drawer and a tall wooden wardrobe; and what Marigold had called a “chem-lab”, with a desk with another terminal and a chair, and another wood table, this one full of lab equipment. It seemed to have everything he would need to make Goose’s recipes, if he had the time.

All the lamps seemed to be in working order, no lack of electricity, from wherever it was coming from, and his Pip-Boy’s Geiger count accused only the barest radiation on the water when they opened the taps. It was at a level that, according to Goose’s notes, they should be able to solve through filtering and boiling, more related to radioactive sediments than to the water itself.

The place was empty and dusty, paint peeling from the walls, the linoleum floor warping at some spots… But besides those expected signs, otherwise the place was spotless, in the sense that everything had its proper place, and lived in, with things scattered around indicating that someone had, at some point, lived there.

Someone had arrived at that store, closed what they couldn’t use, modified the rooms as possible, turned it all into a home… And then never returned.

While Norm was grateful, because they needed a place for the night, he couldn’t help but feel a pinch of sadness, trying to imagine what had kept its inhabitant from returning.

They ended back at the metal door, slightly open like they had left.

“See if there’s a stimpak here, I’ll lock the outside terminal.” Norm threw the bag at Marigold, stepping into the cramped hall, keeping the metal door open.

His fingers flew through the keypads as he put a new password in it, making sure it was the same level of security he had broken – it had given him trouble and he was certain it would give anyone else even more. Hopefully it would keep them safe throughout the night.

Marigold showed him three stimpaks and one med-x as he came back inside and closed the door.

“There’s also some radaway, food and water.” There was clear relief in her voice, her shoulders relaxing a little.

“Good. Where’s the better place to take care of your leg?” Norm asked while making sure the door was properly fitted in the frame, then used the inside terminal to lock it.

Another grind and muffled bang; he tried to pull at the handle, but it didn’t budge. Good.

“The kitchen. It has a sink, space, and places to sit.”

Marigold started limping away, and Norm followed, eyes glued to the injured leg.

The flow of blood had diminished, but not stopped, and he was pretty sure it was worse after her stunt of going up and down the stairs – he had tried to convince her to stay on the ground floor, but the woman was damn stubborn and refused to let him go up alone. At least they had stimpaks now.

Marigold was leaning against the table when he entered the kitchen, backpack, bag and gun above it, stimpaks and med-x close by. She kept the injured leg extended, trying to unbuckle the bag-belt from around her thighs, fingers sliding because of the blood.

Norm sighed and approached.

“Could you please let me help, for God’s sake?” he pushed her hands away and she let him, instead holding the buckle around her hips.

He unbuckled the uninjured side with fast movements, but the buckle on the injured leg was slippery with blood, and he needed to go more carefully, hearing Marigold curse and hiss under her breath as it became loose around her leg. She unbuckled the last piece and left the bag-belt above the table.

“I’ll take off the tourniquet now.” Norm touched the leather, looking at Marigold’s mismatched eyes.

She breathed deeply and nodded.

The coat’s belt was off in an instant, and blood poured out. He raised his eyes at Marigold again, and she had her teeth gritted, hands gripping the edge of the table tight enough that her knuckles paled.

Norm looked at the torn fabric, and noticed Marigold doing the same. It covered the wound on the outside of her thigh, and at most he saw how the fabric bent inside into the wound, some spots of blood already starting to dry.

“Fuck. Taking the pants and the bullet off will hurt.” She slumped in place.

“Can’t we just jab a stimpak in the wound?”

“If it was some common shotgun ammo, sure, but I can feel there’s something inside, that’s not normal with shotguns. Since some people put teeth and other nasty things in their ammo, it’s better we take whatever the bullet is off before we use the stimpak. And Goose would burst from the ground if I did any of this while there’s fabric in the wound.” Marigold’s hands dropped to the button and zipper of her pants.

Teeth as bullets? Wastelanders were insane.

“What about just cutting the fabric?”

“Can’t go around destroying my clothes, Norm-boy. It’s hard to come by any that fit me.” Marigold shook her head, then grinned, the extra trouble one, even if somewhat forced. “But if you really want to and ask nicely, I’m pretty sure we can fix something up.”

Norm spluttered at that, feeling the heat rising through his neck as her words sunk in – was she really suggesting what he thought she was while bleeding and in pain? – and Marigold winked even while opening her pants and pushing it down her hips, faded black panties becoming visible.

He dry-swallowed, looking away and feeling like a moron – for God’s sake, he wasn’t a virgin, and he had been ogling her the whole day with permission, what was his problem?

Marigold hissed as the fabric reached her thighs and started pulling at the wound, and Norm jumped ahead to help pull it down past it, doing his best to focus only on helping her. The pants stopped at her boots, and Marigold pulled herself sitting over the table with a sigh of relief.

The wound was still bleeding, with a central bullet hole, deep and gaping, with smaller wounds scattered around it, more burns than perforations, becoming sparser the farther they became from the central one.

His eyes wandered a little; the exposed skin, what wasn’t covered in blood, was slightly lighter than her face, but not by much, still golden-brown; multiple scars covered her thighs, lines and circles crisscrossing the skin, and those helped sober him up.

How many of those were a result of having to be a Black Widow?

He didn’t know. He didn’t know if he wanted to know. Too much pain so close to such a sensitive place… It was wrong.

---------

“I’ll get the things from your backpack.” Norm said quietly, and Marigold helped him, doing her best to not move her leg too much.

The wound was better than she had feared, worse than she had hoped. Thank God there were stimpaks in the bag, there would be no need for stitches and be too careful. And with them taking care of the wound so soon, one stimpak should be enough to heal the insides to a point where she didn’t need to worry about wound reopening and her bleeding out, or having deep infection – sepsis, as Goose called.

She also had found paper bounties, including hers, but since they were as safe as they could be, it could wait. Besides, the Bounty Hunter was dead, so that problem had been taken care of, at least for the time.

Marigold found her old pair of tweezers in an internal side pocket as Norm spread and organized the supplies close to her leg. The tweezers were rolled in a piece of fabric, too long to fit in the medicine tin.

“Spritz the vodka here and in my hands, please.”

“You’re not thinking of-”

“Taking it off myself? Yes I’m.” His eyebrows frowned and Marigold kept going before he could protest. “Sorry, Norm-boy, but I have more experience with this. I’ll still definitely accept any other help.”

Norm pressed his lips in a line, still frowning, taking the perfume bottle from the medicine tin and doing as she had asked, the smell of vodka spreading around them.

“How much will this hurt?” He asked, shining his Pip-Boy’s flashlight into the wound without her asking.

“Thanks for the light and… Lots, Norm-boy, but it’ll be worse if I get an infection, so…”

She shrugged, and jabbed the closed tweezers inside.

---------

Marigold cursed the whole three minutes it took for her to find the bullet and pull it out; it was lodged deep, blood coming out with her prodding the wound. Only the fact that she was feeling it, added to the fear of it being something that would cause a worse reaction if not taken out, kept her going.

Her fingers trembled as she managed to pull the tweezers out, the bullet held at the tip, and both almost fell to the table. Norm’s hands were there to take them from her, carefully.

“Fuck.” She mumbled a last time through gritted teeth, hands splayed against the wood as she leaned back, breathing deeply, eyes tightly closed. The pain had dulled, now that there wasn’t something inside flaring it when she least expected.

“Damn.”

“What?” She opened one eye, and noticed Norm looking at the bullet, hands stained with blood.

“It’s a tooth.”

“Told you.”

Norm shook his head, a small smile even while frowning, and put the tooth down.

“Now we can use the stimpak, right?”

“Yes we can.” She extended her hand, but Norm caught the stimpak before her, and Marigold raised an eyebrow at him.

“This I know how to do.”

She shrugged with a grin, leaning back again, just watching him.

“Be my guest, Norm-boy.”

He turned off the flashlight and approached, color appearing along his neck as he put a hand close to the wound – she couldn’t help but notice how his skin felt against hers, in general soft, even while she felt some smaller callouses; it was a good feeling, after all the pain –, pressuring to keep her leg in place. Carefully, he aligned the needle’s stimpak close to the wound and pressed, the needle sinking into the skin with little resistance.

Marigold clenched her teeth at the sensation, of the needle and whatever drugs cocktail inside of it spreading throughout her flesh.

The wound started burning from inside out, and as they watched, it knit together, the flow of blood diminished to a small trickle. The smaller burns around remained and there was still a small hole, but she didn’t felt that burning, spread pain anymore. And if the tooth had left any bacteria or whatever inside, the stimpak should’ve taken care of it.

Norm put the empty stimpak down and started cleaning the blood and the wound, before spritzing the vodka and spreading some healing powder over it.

“Do you have bandages or whatever? I don’t think it will be good to walk around with it all exposed, it’s worse than the one on your arm.”

Marigold had to stop and think for a bit, then pulled her backpack over and breathed in relief at finding the squares of clean bandages in a small plastic Ziploc bag – Goose always cleaned some and kept any bandages she cleaned and sterilized in them – and a roll of duct tape.

“Here.” She handed him the duct tape and took one square of bandage out, laying it over the wound.

“Duct tape? Really? This will take your skin off too.” Norm complained, even while still using the scissors to cut it.

“It’s what we have, Norm-boy.” She grinned and shrugged as he taped the bandage in place.

“I think that’s it. How you’re feeling?”

He stepped back and Marigold bent and extended her leg in test; she only felt the skin pull a little, nothing from the muscles deep inside.

“Tired, but overall just feeling the skin. Internal damage totally taken care of.”

Norm’s shoulders relaxed and he leaned against the table besides her, letting out a relieved sigh of his own.

Marigold leaned forward, elbows on her knees, and pressed her shoulder against his.

“Thanks, Norm-boy.”

He pressed right back.

“You’re welcome.”

There was a loud thunder, followed by a dull sound outside that she easily recognized: the sharp, fast wind of a rad-storm against metal and wood, whistling through any space it could find, but Norm’s Geiger count remained in silence, so the place was well isolated, thankfully.

It was a sound she had heard a lot growing up, and not always with a Geiger count giving her reassurance things were safe.

Norm tensed beside her, head bolting upright towards the sound.

“What’s that?”

“The rad-storm. Let’s hope it move away soon.”

---------

Rad-storm. He had been so focused on Marigold’s wound he had forgot those clouds in the horizon. He also hadn’t been expecting that sound, so… All-encompassing. It was clear it would be a noisy night.

“How long until it does?” He looked back at her, and Marigold was loosening her boots. “What… Are you doing?”

“I need to clean and mend my pants, can’t do it while using them.” She shrugged, taking one pant out and putting on the boot again. “And it really depends. It’s the first rad-storm of the season, so they can last at least a few day, but sometimes we’re lucky and they move fast.”

Norm nodded, dry-swallowing as she finished taking off her pants and dropped from the table, and really he should stop looking, she had said he was welcome to look while she had pants on, Norm, for God’s sake…

Marigold got hold of his chin and turned his head towards her face. Before he processed it, he felt her lips on his cheek, close to the corner of his lips.

“What-?” his neck, his face, everything was burning, and his heart beat so fast inside his chest that he thought he was about to pass out.

“For pulling me, that shot would’ve hit some big artery otherwise.” She interrupted him, turning his face and kissing his other cheek. “And this one for getting the door open.”

Marigold let go of his chin and stepped back, giving him the extra trouble grin before winking. Norm opened and closed his mouth, no sound leaving him, and something in her face twisted in a way that he only could call “smug”.

“I’ll use the bathroom upstairs to take care of these.” She raised the hand holding the bloodied pants and got hold of the medicine tin with the other.

“… All right.” He managed to say, and with that Marigold left the kitchen, limping a little, not a drop of shyness or whatever as she did it.

Half of him couldn’t believe how better her legs and behind looked without pants, the shift of skin and muscle as she moved making his mouth dry. Norm heard her steps fading up the metal stairs, a door closing, and slumped against the table.

“Holy… Damn.”

---------

Norm forced himself to take everything bloodied to the kitchen sink, methodically taking his Pip-Boy off before cleaning it all under the running water, then carefully cleaning all traces of blood from under his nails. Occasionally a thunder echoed, making him jump and curse – the holomovies and such in the Vault really failed in showing how loud they could be. And… Was that really how normal storms sounded, or just the radioactive ones?

His brain had tried to convince him to go up the stairs, knock on the bathroom door and ask if she wanted to have sex, determined that having her legs around his head would solve half of his problems – especially the ones bellow his belt, damn it. And if he hadn’t heard the door closing, he probably would’ve heard those horny thoughts.

But he had heard, and she had just gotten shot, and the both of them hadn’t even eaten yet, so really those thoughts weren’t the best judges of timing – they never were that good for starters, but they clearly had devolved in the surface.

The time it took to get everything clean was enough to get himself under control, for his problem to go away, and make his stomach rumble, just giving strength to his argument of “they hadn’t even eaten yet”.

As he stored everything of hers into the backpack, he found two cans; both had tapes to the bottom with “ant” written, and a small, simplified drawing of an ant besides it. The forks were a little harder to find, but he managed, ascending the stairs while holding both items.

He stopped in front of the bathroom door. He could hear her inside, humming an old familiar song, and unconsciously he tapped a finger against the can to the same rhythm – “’cause babe it’s just you”, the words softly reached him, more humming following them, and he shook his head with a small smile.

Good to see that some pre-war music had survived.

“Marigold!” He called, and the humming immediately stopped.

“Yeah?!”

“I brought a can of food for you! Ant!”

“Righty!” The door opened, exposing Marigold, still pant-less and with leather bracers and fingerless gloves missing, the sleeves of her shirt folded to her elbows, pants in the sink. “Thanks, Norm-boy.” She smiled as he handed her a can and a fork, digging in with the same gusto he had come to expect.

He forced himself to keep his eyes on her face instead of sneaking a look – all his talk of “timing” would flee his mind the moment he did it, he was sure of it.

“Is the blood coming off?”

“Most of it, yeah, but it’ll probably be forever stained.” She shrugged, leaning against the doorway.

“Need any help with it?”

“Nah, I have it under control. But tell you what, I was remembering that other terminal we saw. Think you can take a look, see if there’s any chance of anyone else appearing or whatever? I know you said the door hadn’t been opened in years, but… Just to make sure.”

“I’ll get right into it.” Norm nodded at her, a step already in the direction of the so-called chem-lab, glad to have something to do and distract his head from her.

[shamandrummer]

Meet Modern Shaman Sabrina Villard

As a tot, Sabrina Villard took her first steps in the Sahara desert, just south of Algeria. She did so while holding the hand of her great-grandmother, a Bedouin shaman--who are known in the region as Fugara--who she says lived to be 123 years old.

"She is still with me every day, guiding me," says Villard, who inherited and honed her skills as a shaman from her late great-grandmother. She keeps a photo of her on an altar surrounded by candles and flowers in the corner of her ceremony room, which occupies the second bedroom of her apartment on Robinson Road in Hong Kong's Mid-Levels district.

To this day, when faced with adversity or difficult decisions, a distinct tingle on her arm is a reassuring sign that her great-grandmother is watching over her. And one year ago, feeling she had that support, Villard made one of the biggest decisions of her life so far.

At the time, she was the Apac project manager for one of the world's most revered luxury fashion houses by day, and by night, she would guide clients on shamanic journeys, straddling the living and spiritual realms to assist in a variety of areas: from healing traumas to removing subconscious patterns that block people from reaching their full potential.

"The traditional definition of a shaman is a seer in the dark," says Villard. "I don't know about anyone's life when they come to me. I am shown what you are ready to see by your spirit guides, ancestors and your own memories. I have a conversation with your soul."

Last September, on her birthday, she quit her high-flying fashion job to pursue her role as a shaman full-time. "I resigned on my birthday," says the self-proclaimed witch. "Rebirth day!"

Since then, she has made it her mission to spread the ancient healing art of shamanism throughout the modern world. Without compromising its sanctity, she has found ways to make it approachable and applicable to even those who might be put off by the "woo-woo" perception of it.

"Some people like the theatrics of it: the crystals, the potions or dressing a certain way ... but it's not for me," says Villard, who prefers not to use any tools in her shamanic practice, and whose style is more wicked than witch. "For me, the modern witch is sure of herself and her intuition."

In fact, Villard recently became the first shaman to enter the metaverse, spending the last few months building a world on online virtual community platform VRChat under her moniker, V-Healing. The dreamy domain is a futuristic, space station-esque oasis that looks out to a desert landscape--a nod to her Bedouin roots.

Villard may be the first, but she hopes she isn't the last, and that over time, spirituality and alternative forms of healing will find their place in virtual reality.

"I know a lot of people will go against [this idea], but this is what I like; this is what's necessary," she says. "I like to go against the current, to bring spirituality into our modern world. We need to adapt and bring ancient knowledge and wisdom to the platforms that people are using now."

[attraz1one]

Tackling the museum. Repeat text block on the right side of the Troll Hunter 'header' and Reading Room one. Transcript under the cut:

1st image:

The Medieval Troll Hunters Trolling Folks: Older Than You Think

2nd image:

We don't know why this isn't just gibberish, because nobody reads all this text anyway. Nah, just trolling you! And trolling goes back even further than you may have thought. Since the dawn of the written word,humanity has used it as a tool to try to get a rise out of other people.

In the ruins of Pompeii, graffiti has been uncovered insulting the readers' mom. Roman emperors were renown for trash-talking their predecessors in ancient decrees.

One of the most famous examples involves a series of pamphlets written by Shakespeare fans, insisting that his newly announced play, Henry V, could not possibly be as good as his earlier Henry IV, Part 2. And this was before the fans had even really seen the new work!

3rd image:

Reading Room or Reeding Room?

Not all ancient text is written in stone

4th image:

When was the last time you read a book? Some of the "books" in the Reading room haven't been read i9n hundreds or thousands of years, because nobody understands the languages they're written in anymore!

Believe it or not, language changes over time. Linguistic terms we take for granted today, like "LOL". "BRB". and "8====D", would be considered entirely incomprehensible to our ancestors. Perhaps even your Great Aunt Mable!

Some ancient languages have been deciphered by modern historians using documents written in multiple languages. By comparing an unknown language to a known one, linguists can break the code of the unknown language. Of course, these ancient documents are usually written in stone, whereas today's communications are almost entirely digital. Fortunately for future generations, the Cloud is even more durable than stone.

[thecondemnedangelgabriel]

V

What you need to do Emily Reynolds

IS DISENGAGE FROM THIS ONLINE TEXT

It is being written by the Angel Gabriel

YOU NEED TO DISENGAGE FROM THIS ANGELIC TEXT

AND YOU NEED TO DISENGAGE FROM SARAH TREGONNING

Sarah is an Extreme Stalker and a Psychopathic Murderer

The Angel will continue to @ your username AND NAME YOU PUBLICLY during this Monologue that it brings about the Hacking and Framing and the Stalking that YOU HAVE BEEN DOING

... and you do not receive those @s you are Blocked

... you are Hacking and Stalking this Gangstalking Victim of the WPR

You have been a Parasitical Journalist, Emily... and CRIMINAL

You have been attacking and entrapping a Stalking Victim and LYING

FOR YOUR MIND'S WELLBEING perhaps do not constantly be there hovering and looking to see what is being said because it is NOT that you have to somehow beat this person legally...

THAT IS NOT GOING TO HAPPEN

Nor does this person have NO RIGHT TO SPEAK OF YOU

Or the HARM YOU HAVE DONE AND DO

You are under a Delusion

And in the Future when this Goddess is RELEASED FROM THE POSSESSION SHE WILL SPEAK ABOUT WHAT YOU STALKERS HAVE DONE

And So WILL THE POLICE, EMILY

Emily, there has been Powerful Satanism at work in the World

THIS GODDESS HAS BEEN WORKING AGAINST THAT

And This Goddess was working with the MIND OF A PROJECT MONARCH SLAVE and you have been interfering with the Working

ROXANNE ANDERTON WAS A PROJECT MONARCH SLAVE

ROXANNE WAS STALKING SARA WHILE IN ISOLATION IN LONDON

ROXANNE WAS EXTREMELY EXTREMELY SUFFERING

LOVED SARA IMMENSELY AND HAD BECOME DANGEROUS

ROXANNE DIED IN 2019

SARA has not spoken at all since Roxanne began to die in Feb 2019

IT IS AN ANGEL, ANGEL'S ARE REAL

Project Monarch worked with Angelic Language and the FATES AND WITH MINDS

Sara doesn't do EVIL... you have been doing evil as if that is one tool that you can use in a Battle Against Somebody...

BUT SARA HAS NEVER BEEN DOING EVIL

TREGONNING WAS ALWAYS LYING TO YOU

You want to come and see this person with Police and Doctors...

In a Court Room

To tell this person that Magic isn't REAL

SO THAT YOU CAN PUT A STOP TO THIS

BUT you are Mistaken, Emily

Emily, this challenge is a part of your Karmic Path and is a BIG ONE

That is why this Goddess has taken pity upon you somewhat, Emily

Because this ANGEL will not allow HER TO ASSIST YOU

And you have been attacking a Very Powerful MAGICAL WORKING

YOU NEED TO REFRAIN FROM ALL EVIL AND THE ATTACKS

DO NOT BRING WHAT YOU CONSIDER RIGHTEOUS ATTACK!

YOU NEED TO DISENGAGE ENTIRELY FROM THE TEXT

Because you have become Mentally Psychotic! O

[alecbicheno]

FMP blog

24/06/2024

Over the weekend I looked at videos on how to create grassy environments in Unreal Engine 5 in preparation for making the front entrance environment.

I talked about this video in my recent appreciation post, and how it is a clear and informative video on making environments.

This video was very helpful for some quick information on landscapes and textures.

This video covers grass and foliage in detail, which is helpful as the front entrance scene will have a lot of grass and foliage in it.

I had my meeting with Wayne today.

I showed him the finished scene and how I’ll come back to it at a later date to sort out the lighting once we are at that stage of production, but will probably also touch it up, as well as add more to the scene like rubble assets etc.

Wayne made a good point of making sure that everything looks like it’s done by the same hand. I’m definitely striving for this, so now I definitely will go back and edit scenes if I have time in order to ensure they are of a similar quality.

I asked him about the best process for creating the front entrance, whether to utilise the landscape tools in Unreal Engine 5 or to do it all in my 3D software Blender.

His advice was to import the block out I have into Unreal Engine and use as a reference for sculpting with landscape, keeping it as close to the model as possible to not leave any unnecessary space, then add in proper the environment later.

He also mentioned to think about the lighting and how it reflects in weird ways, especially in the entrance room where it has many support arches. And also to focus on what looks good compared to what people are used to actually seeing in real life, as sometimes good lighting can feel off since it’s not realistic.

He then talked about focusing on small details in the scene, like who’s there and what were they doing, except for our project it is a case of who was there and what were they doing since the place is abandoned.

I also talked with him about where a person’s eye is drawn to, and it often is focuses on the worst part of the scene or asset, which means I’ll definitely need to go over my work, as well as get feedback to combat this.

He also mentioned about having somewhere to jot down ideas as they come to you, as often a person will be thinking about their project when doing other things or when they’re out somewhere.

So, for my next steps I’ll do what Wayne said and take the block out and work on sculpting the terrain, from there I’ll work on making the scene properly then texturing and importing it back into Unreal Engine.

References

Cinecom.net, 2023. 5 Tricks you (probably) don't know about Unreal Engine 5. [Online] Available at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZF7Vwc8L1ok [Accessed 23 June 2024].

pwnisher, 2022. How I Quickly Create 3D Environments in Unreal Engine 5 | FULL WORKFLOW. [Online] Available at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YZ4gSKZh6do [Accessed 23 June 2024].

VLRN | Valerian, 2023. Ultimate FOLIAGE Guide in UE5. [Online] Available at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WMObgeULNTI [Accessed 23 June 2024].

[midseo]

Magnetic Tool Setting Gauges, Manufacturer, Supplier, Exporter, India

Magnetic Tool Setting Gauges, Manufacturer, Supplier, Exporter, Pune, India, USA, UK, Australia, South Africa, Asia, Darussalam

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[gertlushgaming]

Below the Stone Preview (Steam Early Access)

For this Below the Stone Preview, we play a procedurally generated spelunking roguelike(lite) with completely destructible grid-based levels resembling that of many loved titles such as Terraria, Enter The Gungeon, Nuclear Throne, and Dwarf Fortress.

Below the Stone Preview Pros:

- Decent graphics. - 281.46MB download size. - Graphics settings - ui scale slider, auto ui scale button, v-sync, fps limit, and full screen. - Full controller support. - Controller settings - Invert hotbar scrolling. - 3 save slots. - Character creator - random, name, hair, beard, body, and hair color. - Twin stick style controls for weapons amd tools. You get a clear line to show where you are facing. - Top-down view. - Opening tutorial section. - Certain tools can break certain blocks. - Hot bar for quick access. - Choose up to 3 missions to do when in the caves. - Nice soundtrack. - Simple controls. - Very accessible and easy to get into. - The main hub above ground houses shops, blacksmiths, Missions, notes, etc. - Craft new items, Weapons, and armor at the Blacksmith. - The caves have many Breakable objects and blocks to mine that drop resources for crafting. - A Witch in the Hub lets you craft potions of many kinds. - Randomized caves every time. - Mini map. - Complete at least one mission in order to leave the cave. - The map fills in as you play. - Missions are shown on screen at all times and fill in as you complete them. - You have a small circle of light around you and a torch does a huge circle of light. - When mining it's dark so you never really know where you are going. - Blocks will highlight when you are near them and will be blue if you can mine them or red if you cannot. - A brilliant game for people who love to just mine or cave dive. - An excellent sense of adventure. - Cave-ins can happen. - Find rooms and secrets. - Play how you want. - As soon as you finish a mission you can call the escape pod which makes a load of enemies attack as you await the pod's arrival. - If you die you drop everything in you and lose progress of missions. - High difficulty mostly due to the nature of learning the combat. Below the Stone Preview Cons: - No Steam achievements yet. - Only a male character. - Limited graphics settings. - Cannot rebind controls. - No voice work. - The menu system is so clunky and swapping items between your hotbar and backpack is so slow and sluggish. - The hub is so big and it's just not needed. - Way too many puns and yes I'm a killjoy. - Combat is tough with poison enemies being a particular nightmare. - Takes a while to get going. - High difficulty. - Having to eat mushrooms for health one by one is a real drag. - No dodge or roll button makes the game a lot harder and less fun in a way. - Cannot save mid-dungeon. - The mission amd cave randomness can make for lengthy dungeon dives. - No online play. Related Post: Stray Souls Review (PlayStation 5) Below the Stone: Official website. Developer: strollart Publisher: Apogee Entertainment Store Links - Steam Early Access Read the full article