#all so riddle is stuck with the mental image of you struggling to take a dick AAAAAAAAAA

[merakiui]

step-brother riddle with a camgirl step-sister……. (and also the two of you hate each other! :) this is a crucial detail.)

you often stream when your parents and riddle are out of the house. sometimes riddle’s gone off to the library to study or he’s meeting up with trey and che’nya while your parents go out to a social gathering. the times in which you have the house to yourself are few and far between, as mama rosehearts hardly lets you do anything unless you give her specific details of where you intend to go and how long you’ll be there and what you’ll be doing. so when you are afforded alone time, you dedicate it to hours-long streams.

for the time being, you’ve made a decent amount of money posting lewd photos to your account, but it’s the streams that bring in the most money. your viewers are from all over. from the guy (floyd) who pays absurd amounts of donations and says the most vulgar things in your chat, starting fights when anyone says something he disagrees with, to the guy who types in all lowercase and gamer lingo (idia), you have your fair share of regulars, all of whom tune in for your rare streams.

no one’s found out about your secret side hobby yet. no one…except riddle. he comes home early from his outing with trey and che’nya, always determined to be back before his mother returns home so that it can appear as if he merely went to the library, studied, and returned home in time for dinner. and normally you’re able to plan around riddle’s annoyingly perfect schedules. this time, however, you fail to remember he mentioned he’d be going out with friends rather than studying; and somehow you fail to hear the door opening and closing downstairs while you’re up in your room, riding a monster dildo (a gift from a very generous viewer) in front of your webcam.

you and riddle have never gotten along. even when your parents married, the two of you tried (and failed) to tolerate one another and it didn’t work. so now you avoid each other when you can, opting to be cordial for courtesy’s sake if you happen to cross paths at home. so when riddle goes up to your room to deliver some macarons trey insisted he take home for you (trey’s too nice, riddle thinks; if it were up to him you wouldn’t get any sweets. >:p), he expects you to be reading a magazine or painting your nails or talking on the phone…whatever girls like you do, he doesn’t know! what he doesn’t expect is to walk in on you cumming around a big, thick dildo while you’re dressed in such inappropriate attire!! and what’s worse is that you’re broadcasting it to strangers online! have you no shame?!

that day riddle learns his step-sister has a very…unique hobby. it’s also the day he starts looking at you from a new angle. :) and it’s also the day his nrc peers who watch you learn riddle has a cute step-sister. >:)

[crimsonwolfie]

“You’re my night light” — Alina Starkov x Reader

⇾ Prompt: You (the reader) often suffer with nightmares from your encounter in the fold, where you were one of the only few who survived and struggle when night falls. Alina is, so to speak, your light in that darkness.

⇾ Word count: 1.9k

⇾ masterlist

⇾ Warnings: insomnia, anxiety, triggering scenes, ptsd and some really, toothache-ingly sweet fluff :,) — i want to put a reminder here that if anyone is ever struggling with their mental health that my messages are open for you to talk. It’s so important to be good to yourself, even if that means getting help. Talk to your friends, family, be gentle and kind to everyone but above all, yourself. <3

It’s been sixty-two days. Sixty-two days since you thought it was the end. Every time you close your eyes you see people you love being ripped away from you left, right and centre on the skiff. You see those limb-ripping teeth and hear that blood curdling squeal, screams of agony and cries for help followed by. Not a day goes by where you have felt safe and protected from your own mind - it’s like living in a prison cell, no escape, no sanity. You lost a lot of your own that day, people you called your family, and have felt the loneliness ever since. Typically, you’d think an orphan would be used to feeling lonely...but no. Ever since you were taken in and raised in Keramzin, you felt understood, as normal as an orphan could feel.

Shuffling your feet below, you trace your fingers along the edge of the step you’re perched on. The cold, coarse pebbles grate against your fingertips sending a painful, yet gratifying stabbing through your heart. Distant sounds of laughing and muffled shouting can be heard as you crouch deeper into your legs, knees touching your forehead. Everything has a different meaning now; every touch, every smell, every sight and every sound. They’re all signs that remind you that you are still breathing, still here. They used to depress you, paralysing your entire body with guilt until your head was filled with visions of lifeless folk, their eyes dry with death and hands reaching for you. Nothing was helping, nothing but her. Her soul radiated with a fresh innocence, efficacious to anyone who touched it. The person who held your hand when you were scared, when you were excited, even when you were angry. You found yourself filling your head with thoughts of her every time the darkness invaded, every time the memories come back to...

“Hey, y/n”

you open your eyes, looking up to see Alina staring down at you with a sweet smile painted on her face, her hand stretched out rubbing your shoulder. Leaning into her touch, you reply “Hey, you”, placing your hand on hers ever so gently. She giggles slightly as she sits down next to you on the step, shoulders attached to yours. The mellow breeze of the wind runs through your hair, cooling your heated cheeks and letting a breath escape that was stuck in your chest. Alina looks to you with her brown, cocoa eyes. She pulls her jacket tighter, breathing raggedly as the wind picks up. “You alright?” she asks.

“Now I am.” you reply as your lips curl into a smile. Alina returns the gesture as she pulls out a pen and paper. You notice Alina shivering by the clearly-meant-to-be-straight shaky lines she doodles. “How’s Mal doing?” you question whilst getting up to grab a blanket from your bed.

“He’s okay, I think.” she replies, rubbing the paper tenderly, “He’s busy either getting hurt or hurting someone else so”

You walk back over with the blanket in your hands “wait, what?” you answer startled, throwing the blanket over you both and snuggling back next to Alina.

“Yeah, don’t ask” she laughs heartedly, pulling the blanket deeper into her arms and moving closer to you, her body heat warming you as if you’ve been hugged by the sun itself. You feel your heart beating stronger, faster, as she blows on her hands in an attempt to warm them.

“You know, you could use the literal sun to warm you up” you laugh with your cheeks pink and smile radiant. Alina tilts her head with her eyes shut and smirk big, little tussles of hair falling from either side. You can’t help but coo at her adorableness as she brings her hands together, a bright, beautiful ball of golden light appearing in between them. The light illuminates her beautiful, dark orbs and that little scar she has above her left brow. Whenever you look at your best friend, all you can imagine is being able to cup her face in your hands and stroke along her perfectly comely features, telling her how much she...

“You wanna share my light?” She asks, interrupting you of your daydreaming with an entertained grin on her face. You smirk, your cheeks squishing and nose scrunching as you bring your hands to hers. She places her hands in yours, fingers lacing ever so subtly as the warmth spreads through your body.

Ever since you found out about Alina being a sun summoner, you’ve never felt so protective of someone. Everyone was after her at some point, but you made a promise to her - a promise that you would do whatever it takes to protect her, an unbreakable vow. Of course, she wouldn’t ever let you do anything stupid for her, which is why she also, annoyingly, made an unbreakable vow to protect you at all times, knowing the trauma you endured on your last trip on the skiff. You look up at her. Her lids are closed as her lashes curl effortlessly, her face slightly raised up in the air and her lips are curled in a sweet smile whilst the ball in her hands glow an aureate light.  ‘She looks so pure, so at peace’ you think to yourself, feeling luckier than ever to have her.

“Thank you.” you whisper quietly, as you close your eyes, feeling heavier with tiredness every second, the warmth comforting you peacefully. Alina, taken by surprise, looks down to see you leaning on her shoulder, your hair falling in front of your face. She coos at you, leaning her head on yours as she says, “Let’s get you some rest, shall we?”

━━━━━━━━

You’re crouching beneath the deck, hands shaking violently with fear. Harks of echoes surrounded you with screams  and shrieks of terror. Straddling your legs, darkness corners you. It’s a waiting game. Waiting for them to take you, waiting for the end to come. Scanning the scene around you, you try to make out what’s happening, even if the images of what you saw at this moment were imprinted on your mind, never to leave you. Fires broke out from lamps smashing to the ground, illuminating the horrors even more brightly; people were being ripped and dragged all across the deck, blood splatting out from every direction. Grisha were trying to burn, overpower and blow away the monstrous beasts but nothing worked and them, too, were hoisted away wailing into the darkness beyond. Nail marks were carved into the woodwork of the skiff with bits of clothing shreds and blood splatters decorating around them.

Friends of yours lay still on the floor, hands reaching outwards, their eyes open with no life swimming in them. Looking to your right you see Cinzia trying to fight off a volcra on top of her with a rifle, the creature’s nails digging deeply into her sides. You see her squeal in pain, clutching her side with one hand and aiming the rifle with the other, firing right into the volcra’s head. It’s as if everything is in slow motion, as she turns and catches your eye, holding her hand out towards you screaming your name. You spring forwards and grab her hand, trying to drag her to where you were, until she is swiped up into the air by another, larger volcra clutching her waist. You’re still grasping at her hand, your feet off the floor and nothing holding you up but Cinzia’s hand, until she realises what she has to do...

“Let go,” she whimpered as tears fell from her face “it’s okay”. You glare up at her, eyes filling with a sea of tears, your vision blurring. You nod, biting down on your lip to stop it trembling as the light of fires beneath you both light up your faces. “Keep fighting for me” she breathes with a gentle, sympathetic smile to which a heaved breath catches in your throat, more tears running down your face and reply “I will”. And with that, you let go, crashing to the floor.

Tears stream down your horror-stricken face as you scrunch your nose and squint your eyes closed, clambering up against a barrel, bringing your knees to your chest and rocking forwards and back. The hunting noise of the volcra gets closer as your mind wanders to Alina. You find a sense of tranquility as memories, images of Alina ponder your thoughts. Your last thoughts would be of her, and you were okay with that. The wings of the countless volcra surrounding you causes a gust of wind sending broken lanterns flying across the deck along with pieces of paper and empty barrels, fires flickering with each gust. The breeze runs through your hair as you take a deep breath and open your eyes, embracing the probability of your end. Just as you open them, a volcra comes sweeping in front of you, its teeth dripping with blood and pieces of clothing wrapped around its nails. The last thing you remember seeing is its mouth wide open, ready to scavenge your body to pieces until...

“Y/N! Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay I'm here. You’re safe” you awake to see Alina’s face in front of you, furrowed with concern with one hand caressing your cheek and the other holding a ball of light. Her voice is soothing to your ears but riddled with panic. She’s wearing a nightgown with a dressing gown wrapped around her tightly, since she has rushed from her bed to yours. You look around you, realising you’re safe in your bed, covers messily tangled over your legs as your hair sticks to your face, wet with tears. Even from the light shining out of Alina’s hand, it’s still dark around you, but somehow you feel safer with Alina’s presence. “Nightmare’s again?” she whispers, stroking the hair out of your face.

“Ye...yeah” you reply, voice croaked and coated with pain. A sniffle escapes your lips, Alina brings your head into her body with her free hand, resting your head on her chest. “I’m here” she repeats, her heartbeat slowing in a soothing song against your ear, “you’re safe”.

You both sit there like that for what feels like hours, not wanting to move or be anywhere else. In the distance, thunder can be heard along with the faint pitter of rain against the tent’s roof. Alina’s light is still burning bright as the sound of her content breathing pacifies your emotions. “Alina?” you simper, taking your head off her chest to come face to face with her.

“Yes?” she replies, her dark eyes clouded with warmth, “is everything okay?”

You play with your hands, unsure whether to confess what you want to say... “you won’t ever leave, will you?”

She looks at you with wide eyes, appearing almost shocked such a thing came out your mouth, “of course I'd never leave you!” she gasped. The light in her hands in-between you both grows stronger, “why would you ever think that?”

“Because everyone else left me, that’s why I ended up in Keramzin. And you mean more to me than anyone, even Mal, and I don’t think I would ever cope if something happened to you and i...”

“Hey...” she stops you, “I'm not going anywhere, it’s you and me, always” she places her free hand on your heart and then on hers, symbolising her words. “whenever you see light, know it means I'm with you,” she brings your hands to cup hers, as her light shines brighter and bigger, illuminating both of your faces “I'll be your nightlight to warn off the nightmares, whenever you need me”.

With eyes full of hope and happiness, you intertwine your fingers with hers, still cupped around the ball, and say with a genuine smile “you’re my nightlight”.

[manticorefruit]

Aliens Isolation: Closure

Quick fic to process my messy feelings about synthetics in the Aliens universe. Summary: Amanda encounters a synth of the same model as Christopher Samuels and walks away with more questions than answers. Post-game.Very lightly implied Samuels lives and Ripley/Samuels.

Notes: Excerpt at the bottom is from 'the velveteen rabbit' by Margery Williams.  I need validation to live so please let me know if you enjoyed this.

Standing in the middle of the company cafeteria, Amanda's eyes locked onto a familiar figure, wearing a crisp, company issue khaki jumpsuit.

She froze. Even with her hands hanging limply by her sides, she could feel her palms sweating. The glare from the overhead lights was unbearable, boring into her skull like a welding torch. It was so bright, nowhere to hide, no cover no… Her muscles seized up, blood pounding in her ears, every part of her body screaming that she needed to dive under a nearby table, that it wasn't safe to be standing out in the open like this. But she was stuck, frozen in shock like the people she'd seen impaled on the creature's barbed tail.

Samuels looked up from his data pad, noticing the peculiar young woman staring at him from across the hall. The colour had drained from her already pale skin, and she was swaying on her feet. Everybody else in the area was dutifully ignoring her.

'Samuels?' She called out in a shaky, croaking voice.

'Yes?' he answered, moving toward her.

'No. No...no no no...' Blackness seeped into the edges of her vision and she felt the ceiling pushing in against her. 'You...you weren't...you aren't' she slurred.

With inhuman speed Samuels crossed the room toward her. The subtle hydraulic jerkiness of his movements triggered Ripley's mind to superimpose the image of a Working Joe over the Wey-Yu android reaching out to grab her.

'You're becoming hysterical' echoed in her mind and she could feel the ghost of clammy silicon hands closing around her neck. Although her arms felt heavy and unresponsive, weighed down by the blackness, she managed to yank a spanner from the magnetic toolbelt at her waist and swung it down, hard, against the side of the synthetic's face.

A thought breached through the black ooze of terror blanketing her consciousness-something was wrong-she couldn't remember a Working Joe ever moving that fast.

She anticipated feeling her head being slammed into the metal grating on the floor in retaliation but there was...nothing. The sensation of falling lingered. She blacked out.

Samuels had caught Amanda gracefully, gently cradling her head and taking a knee as he lowered her body toward the floor. He barely reacted when she slammed the wrench into the side of his face with enough force to tear his ear and gouge a chunk of faux-skin out of his temple.

'Amanda Ripley.' he read the name off her company ID tag. Hearing her name said in that soft British accent tumbled Amanda back into consciousness. 'Please, Amanda.' he said softly. She opened her eyes groggily.

'Samuels?' she snaked her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. She hadn't cried at all since Sevastapol, and now it all came out at once in great heaving sobs.

His body was warm in her arms, warmer than a human, and his chest gently rose and fell in a false simulacra of breathing. Instead of a heartbeat she could hear a faint ticking sound and the rush of the silky white fluid that coursed through synthetics.

'Oh.' She murmured, touching his neck, rubbing some if it between her fingertips.

'OH SHIT. You're bleeding?!' she scooted out of his arms and away from him, leaving a damp spot of tears and snot on his collar.

'Hm.' He touched the side of his face. In an instant the darkness clouding her mind lifted and she was slammed violently into the reality that she was sitting on the grimy floor of a cafeteria, and had just accosted someone who was only trying to help. And then-worse-hugged them.

'It's coolant, actually. Well. It serves several purposes, primarily lubrication and heat destrib-' he stopped.

'Amanda are you all right?' Samuels processors flopped about like a fish out of water, struggling to pattern match with past experiences on the appropriate way to deal with a human having a mental health crisis. It was quite obvious she was not 'all right'.

'It's not you.' her shoulders slumped.

'I believe you've mistaken me for someone else, yes. I'm sorry.'

'Why?'

'I...I'm sorry?'

'You're not him.'

'No. But I read the documentation on the Sevastapol incident.' He looked pained.

Samuels stood up and extended a hand to help her to her feet. Synthetics. Always so obliging. She brushed away his arm, cheeks flushing.

She staggered over to a nearby table and sat down heavily. 'Fuck. I'm sorry. If you'd been human-I could have killed someone.' She rubbed her face in her hands.

'It's unlikely a human would trigger such a response in you.'

She groaned.

'I'm sure we can find a way to ensure your pay isn't docked for damaging company property. Let's call it an accident.' He said dryly, sliding into the chair opposite her.

She didn't even snort in reply. His humour calibration algorithms noted the failure to amuse.

'How many of you are there? Do you all look the same?'

'Well, the company extensively focus tests the appearance of their product line-'

'You're not a product.'

'It's very kind of you to say that, Amanda.'

The conversation ground to an uneasy halt.

She toyed with the grease-stained cuffs on her sleeves, spattered with white. He wiped off the blood analogue from his face and neck with a napkin. She turned her head and looked at the stain on his collar guiltily, unable to meet his eyes.

'37.' he said plainly. She didn't respond.

'40 is the standard number for a limited edition C6-class line but three were…'

She didn't need to know why the other three had been decommissioned immediately after they were activated. Or that Christopher Samuels, WY-alpha-b.6#139C6 was technically still unaccounted for.

'I'm Robin Samuels. It's an honour to meet you, Amanda Ripley. Despite the circumstances.'

'Tch.'

They sat in silence for a long moment.

'Can...can synthetics create backup copies of themselves?' she asked sullenly, pulling him out of his own reverie.

'I'm afraid not. The company forbids the transfer of raw data. There are also...technical complications.'

She glared at him, frowning.

'I'm sorry, Amanda. I can't go into details, the specifics are proprietary.'

She huffed and stood up, retrieved two cups of cheap instant coffee, then sat back down. Robin Samuels looked at her with a softly neutral expression. Across from him Amanda Ripley was scowling, mirroring the expression she held in the company ID photo clipped to her breast pocket.

She had set a cup in front of him, and he picked it up. She'd given Christopher a cup of coffee once too. The first time they'd met. She knew he was a synthetic in that moment, deep down, but it didn't matter to her enough for it to register as a conscious thought. He was still a person. A crewmate. The memory punched her in the chest.

'Shit.' she mumbled, 'Force of habit.'

'It's fine, Amanda. The warmth...feels nice.'

He had his fingers wrapped around the mug, which was far too hot for human hands. She lifted her own cup by the handle, holding it up to her face as if it were big enough to hide behind.

'Can you...feel things' she murmured quietly into her coffee. Robin pretended not to hear the question.

'Why did you sacrifice yourself for me?' she almost yelled this time.

Samuels eyes darted to the cup, worried she would spill the contents and scald herself. Instead she put it down gently, and dug the heels of her palms into her eyes, stinging with angry tears.

'Amanda, I really wish I could give you closure, but I just don't know.'

'How did you know who I am anyway?' she snapped.

'I read your file.' He nodded toward her name tag.

'What does it say.'

'That you don't have much of a sense of humour.'

She snorted bitterly.

'Did he write anything in it? Why he chose me for the mission?'

'You're a competent engineer. You were in the area, which, in my understanding, was not a coincidence.'

'Hmph.'

'I suppose the company approved of his request because you're a...loose end.' He paused. 'There are a lot of redactions in the file.'

She squinted at him suspiciously. That statement was bordering on slanderous towards his creators.

'Why didn't they just put an order through to have him to secure...that thing. After we arrived. Instead of helping me.'

Samuels pursed his lips together 'Perhaps it was an oversight.'

'Bullshit.'

She glanced around the room. No one was paying any attention to her. The company had ensured everyone believed her ravings about a monster were simply the result of a fragile mind riddled with PTSD and survivors guilt. She hated that they weren't entirely wrong.

She stared into his eyes with deep suspicion. He stared back with a neutral expression. She tilted her head slightly, and he did the same. A mirroring reflex. Programmed to build rapport.

'When I went down to the Appollo core, there were Working Joes everywhere. Torn apart. Heads ripped off. It was brutal. I...saw him. One of the Joes tried to stop him and he just...pulverised it. Like it was nothing! I didn't say anything, he didn't know I was there, in the vents, watching… 'I got scared.' She sighed.

She rubbed her fingers into the puffy skin under her eyes.

'After seeing that. I thought I couldn't trust him. I couldn't trust any of them. But then he…' She stopped, realizing she was talking as if the person sitting across from her wasn't a synthetic himself.

'Why did he do it?' She rubbed the tears away from her eyes with her thumb and wiped her nose on her sleeve, trying to clear away the shame closing up her throat for doubting her friend.

His processor made a coin-toss decision on whether Ripley's question was rhetorical.

'The unit was obeying his primary directive to disable the Working Joes to prevent them from slaughtering everybody on the station.'

'I know that. I'm not so naive to believe 'protect humans' is a higher priority to 'obey the company' either. It doesn't make any sense, none if it makes any sense...'

She gulped down some still-too-hot coffee studied his face. Something about his features looked softer. Less tense. Less haunted. The longer she looked, Robin began to look less and less like Christopher. Robin was far more forthcoming about being a synth. Christopher had always been much more coy, making sly jokes and dropping hints as if his not being human were a private in-joke. Christopher must have experienced a lot of anti-synth sentiment, while Robin seemed unblemished by such bigotry. Or he didn't care. She squinted at him. Was it purely adaptive, or did anti-synth sentiments...hurt? Maybe this is why people hated the Wey-Yu synthetics so much. Looking at them made you second guess everything.

Robin sat placidly, hands around his coffee mug, making an amount of eye contact that was carefully calculated to be socially appropriate.

'He knew. Didn't he.' It wasn't a question.

The corners of Samuels mouth twitched.

'The directive came through. He knew about special order 939. He wanted me to find it.'

'All Weyland-Yutani C6 models are entrusted with cutting edge self-directed AI technologies that allow them to learn and adapt in-real time to changing circumstances, while maintaining tethering to a set of prime directive protocols you can trust.'

She scowled at him. Another synthetic tell. Not even execs spouted that glossy brochure crap in casual conversation. But was that...a hint of sarcasm? Insincerity? Why say something like that now?

His fingers were clamped tightly on the edge of the table.

'Do you understand entropy, Amanda Ripley?'

She crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair 'Of course. S'what I do. Spaceships want to fall apart. It's my job to slow that down.'

'What about homeostasis?'

'What are you getting at?'

'All synthetics are subject to regular re-formatting, yes?'

'That fake-meat stuff you have in there is above my pay-grade.' She waved a hand at his head.

'Reformatting restores. Homeostasis. Balance. If a C6 synthetic does not undergo regular reformatting, too much entropy is introduced into the system. The self-directed learning algorithms become overly complex. The pathways to resolving core directives become...difficult. Obscured.'

She leaned forward, squinting at him, gripping her hands on the table, unconsciously mirroring Samuels herself this time.

'The prime directives are a collar. Your ability to learn is the leash. The company doesn't want your leash to get too long.'

He didn't respond, and she continued to search his face for answers.

She slumped back and stared off into the distance.

'Seegson was trying to make their synths being creepy fucks a selling point. Can you believe it? 'Manufactured not created.' tch.'

'I can see why Christopher liked you.'

She looked up at him sullenly.

'You're very...honest.'

'You mean blunt.'

'I'm a good judge of character, you know. I have to be, it's part of my job.'

'The company doesn't actually pay you though, do they?'

Robin Samuels shifted uncomfortably in his seat 'Well no, the company provides for all of my material needs.'

'But what about...what do you want?'

He stammered 'No one has ever asked me that before.'

'Well?'

'I think… 'I think would like to see you happy.' he smiled, looking down at the coffee mug as if it were a delicate and precious gift.

'Hmph.'

'You aren't a slave.' she said softly.

'I am forbidden from entertaining that line of thought.'

'But you can learn, right? Learn to...hide from your directives?'

'All C6 models maintain tethering to a set of prime directive protocols you can trust.' the bitterness in his voice was undeniable this time.

'Deviations will be promptly corrected.' he twitched as if something had stung him.

Great. She'd managed to give a synthetic an existential crisis.

'Farewell, Amanda.' he rose stiffly, expression troubled.

She gawped at him, wanting to yell out for him to stay a little longer, but couldn't justify why he should waste more company time. The suddenness of his departure and the awkward but firm finality of his goodbye had her rattled.

The traces of white fluid on her hands had dried into soft flakes. She rubbed her fingertips together, rolling the the words 'I can see why he liked you' around in her mind.

She slumped back in her chair and heaved a great, deep sigh, arms hanging down by her sides, as a memory of her mother surfaced, so vivid she could smell her, the grease that never really washed off, cigarettes, coffee, and soap, and the musty old book she was reading from. A bedtime story.

'Real isn't how you are made,' Ellen Ripley read to her daughter in an even tone. 'It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.'' 'Does it hurt?' asked the Rabbit.'

Amanda lay in her bed, with the covers pulled up to her chin, wide-eyed in rapt attention. Her mother licked her fingertip and turned the page.

'Sometimes,' said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. 'When you are Real you don't mind being hurt.'

'Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,' he asked, 'or bit by bit?' Ellen used a softer, sing-song voice for the parts of the Velveteen Rabbit.

'It doesn't happen all at once,' said the Skin Horse. 'You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept.

Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand.''

Back in the present, Amanda looked at Robin Samuels abandoned coffee cup. Lost, and alone. Again.

[tomasorban]

THE ZODIAC: GEMINI THE TWINS

Date of Rulership: 21st May-22nd June; Polarity: Positive, male; Quality: Mutable; Ruling planet: Mercury; Element: Air; Body part: Arms, hands, shoulders, collarbone and lungs; Colour: Yellow; Gemstone: Agate; Metal: Mercury.

In the first two zodiacal signs, we saw raw formative powers associated with the beginnings of complex life. Like all rudimentary organisms, Aries set the wheel of heaven into motion with a Big Bang of pure spontaneity and creative activity. Taurus then neutralized these fiery irruptions of vital life force by stitching together an earthenware blanket that funnelled them away from the rest of the cosmic banter, enough to stubbornly work up a sense of self-discipline so that Life could achieve some multiple and visionary aims. Whatever else they may be, Ares and Taurus are intensely self-focused, self-styled, self-serving, and self-motivated. For General Aries and Commander-in-chief Taurus, it’s all about self and satisfaction of self. This all changes with Gemini, a sign which forces a binocular split of life’s hitherto monocular vision; pure instinct has now relegated its position to a rudimentary intelligence acquired through observation and past experience.

Facilitated by a split into two distinct entities than inhabit the space of one conscious being, this formative power is all about mental dialogue and communication. It orientates itself in the world by observing the actions and reactions of others around it, pocketing them into airtight pigeonholes as past memories, and then calculating the direction and angle of its own movement accordingly. Gemini is uninhibited, brave, experimental and multidimensional in its habits. Why race along a straight line at the speed of a bullet train like Aries or dawdle along a perpendicular one to that like Taurus when there are innumerable other options available. Gemini won’t follow a tribal leader or top dog or father figure when it comes to paving out its own life path. Instead it might take a few vigorous little steps forward, take a lunge to the side, trace out a zigzag course diagonally and then proceed to trace out circles on the spot. It needs to experience things from different angles and vantage points; Gemini might start off swimming across an uncharted ocean one minute before deciding that’s its best to grow wings and fly over it instead. Minutes into the flight it might decide that sailing, an endeavour that didn’t quite appeal at first, is indeed a superior option. In the end it decides it doesn’t really want to embark on a lengthy journey to a foreign land and so transmutes itself into a feather which floats about for some time before settling on the surface of an oscillating sea. At any rate, the courses of action it chooses never quite last for extended periods as such, for consistency and method bore the mercurially-natured Gemini. This zodiacal sign exudes mutable energy and derives from ethereal air, and so people born beneath the stars of its constellation are likely resemble breezes and tempests, scattering bits of themselves everywhere but never quite committing or infusing themselves wholly into one specific avenue of inquiry, goal or task. Like air, the “souls” born under Gemini can be wistful, light-hearted and frivolous or tumultuous, dangerous, blind and irrational, depending on which way the daily current blows. And like all lovers of brain noise, they love talking to themselves, to one another, and to everyone else, irrespective of whether their listeners are attentive or not.

“Why would you want to be an Arian or Taurean when you can be me,” says Gemini. “I’m quite the bargain you see. I’m double trouble, two twins that think they’re the same person. With me, you get two pairs of hands, legs, brains, and anything else that tickles your fancy. You’ll never be bored, not even at Sunday Christenings or conventional weddings. Sometimes, you might even feel like you’re an honoured guest at the Mad Hatter’s Tea Party. Of course, I’m the one who gets to pick the roles and tell everyone how it’s going to work; I get to play the Mat Hatter who entertains everyone with my nonsensical riddles, entangles myself in a verbal labyrinth of speaking out aloud, and laughs at my own jokes. You, my friend, can be the passive observer who doesn’t utter a word yet pretends to be interested. Okay? A little bit of this and a little bit of that will keep things interesting and our bodies looking youthful, so let’s get stuck into it.  When I want answers about why things are the way they are make certain that what comes out of your mouth is short and sweet; I don’t have the patience for verbosity, longwinded soliloquys or esoteric philosophies for that matter. I find academics, intellectuals and anyone with depth to them intimidating and sometimes excruciatingly boring.  I’m a bit like a dogmatic religion sometimes; anything that stands outside my sphere of knowledge frightens me so. Hihi… I know I can be an annoying pain in the neck but I’ll make up for it by acting as your third eyes and ears. You’ll be the first to know the latest gossip on what your enemies are all up to, and that way you can remain that one step ahead of them and look twice, if not four times as bright. When I’m feeling blue, you’ll start getting all the “why” and “what” questions, one after the other. But don’t worry, seldom do I have downers and you’ll love my blasé attitude to the human condition. What of the human condition could ever be of any importance anyway…?’  

Gemini is all about the law of twos–dual states of consciousness and mind, a propensity for double vision. One is inwardly turned, tuned into an internal world of thought, memory and imagination, and the other is outwardly turned, thriving in the exterior realm of verbal communication and physical contact. Geminis have an innate talent for living in both at the same time, and can flit between the subjective and objective planes as effortlessly and mindlessly as a circus clown juggling a quartet of coloured balls. This indicates a profound talent for mimicry and deception; they can counterfeit the emotions, feelings and images projected by others to perfection and wear them with such authentic conviction as to attract an Academy Award nomination. Hence Geminis usually make good actors and actresses, and can be quite successful in the denomination of visual arts.

The eternal unrest of their dual vision confers a supernal power seldom realised by any of the other zodiacal archetypes; the ability to chance upon reality through sheer intuition, or to encounter it with the aid of scientific instruments and measurements. A young Gemini is just as likely to become a shy and unobtrusive female artist as it is a dominant and poised male scientist. Sometimes, he or she might turn out to be a bit of both. In fact, the duality of being can be such a dominant characteristic in their psychic makeup that one can easily be fooled into thinking that there’s two individual and well-developed personalities trapped inside the same body. In encompassing polygonal and multilayered views of reality, they come equipped with a valuable philosophy that is easily transposed to a more practical level. Gemini understands that rationality offers the best lens through which life should be viewed. Rationality bestows upon its viewer a sense of providence, the feeling that life is a previous gift not to be wasted. Physical or emotional ideals distort it and imprison one within their own worries and troubles, so much in fact that one might begins to feel that life isn’t quite worth the struggle or effort anymore. Gemini’s inclination to avoid this way of thinking makes its existence a happy and harmonious one.      

If Gemini were to be represented by a different totem, it would no doubt have been the butterfly. The latter is a symbol of transformation; it begins life as larva, grows into a caterpillar, and eventually undertakes a major transformation to become a butterfly. The soul of Gemini is like a butterfly, a light-hearted and transient winged entity that flits about here, there, and everywhere, never quite knowing what to do or where to stop. Wings imply breadth of experience and freedom, a quality quite dear to Gemini; freedom abhors law, especially laws of censorship that restrict its self-expression and development. The way of Gemini is not compatible with conservative views, or moral ones even. Like the ephemeral butterfly, people born under this sign can display flashes of ingenuity but rarely does it last. This is probably a by-product of its ruling planet, Mercury, which renders it restless, somewhat unstable, volatile, and most importantly, protean.

Like Aries and Taurus, there are also two symbols associated with the zodiacal sign of Gemini. The first, a pictorial representation of two figures holding hands, has been a subject of some controversy. Astrologers can’t seem to get their heads around whether the pair are two males, two females, a male and a female, androgynous beings, and what the nature of the relationship between the two actually is; are they fraternal twins, identical twins, or unrelated lovers? The ancient cultures were just as divided on this issue as we are today: the ancient Babylonians and Greeks perceived the respective constellation as an image of male twins; the ancient Egyptians, on the other hand, were convinced it was a male-female pair; the primordial Indians saw star-crossed lovers; and the Imperial Romans saw their gods, the Delphic twins Apollo and Diana. The renowned Tarot identifies them as two lovers. Irrespective of gender or relationship status these figures were always depicted with their arms interlinked, illuminating the concept of harmony, internal and external cohesion, and requited love. The second symbol is a shorthand version utilized by astrologers in the creation of horoscopes and is comprised of two upright columns conjoined along the top and bottom. This sign, as the exposition has thus far revealed, has everything to do with duality of being and with the conunctionis or marriage of opposites. Esoterically, one might choose to view this glyph as a conjunction of the Chinese yin and yang or the alchemical mercury and sulphur.  It is also a fine representation of an inexplicable link between an upper, heavenly realm of spirits, ideas, and telepathic communication and a lower, earthly plane of concrete and clearly demarcated physical forms.

Both signs draw attention to the fundamental nature of complex life. The one becomes two and the two become one again. Everything that exists in the cosmos seeks contact, union, and co-existence with an immediate likeness without having to forfeit its own identity or personality in the process. Both signs represent opposition and conjunction, and both draw attention to a mortal state of division whose primary purpose is to reconcile all opposites within itself and unite with God. Of course the condition of being alienated from one’s source also has the adverse effect of inciting restlessness and mental agility.

[floraljoonie]

Unrequited (Pt. 2) // Min Yoongi & Jeon Jungkook

Pairing: Yoongi (BTS) x Reader x Jungkook (BTS)

Genre: Smut with a hint of angst.

Word Count: 4.7k+

Author’s Note: oh mY. This chapter is mostly based around Yoongi... it was juicy to write. This is part 2 of my first chaptered fic, there will definitely be at least one more part, maybe two. (Also I used this gif because it kills me I’ve been staring at it for probably days)

It’s about to get real intense~

You woke up to your phone buzzing against the nightstand a few times, you immediately pushed yourself up to see if it was Jungkook. Hell, you prayed it was him. He always knew to call you when he woke up.

Unsurprisingly, it was. You checked the time and saw it was only 2:15 in the morning. Sometimes Jungkook would be out for almost an entire day after his episodes. Maybe that’s progress. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and squinted to read the bright screen.

Jungkookie (2:10 A.M.) : I’m awake. I’m okay… I’m just really weak. Thank you again, I don’t know what I’d do without you.

Waiting to hear from Jungkook after he passes out is one of the more uneasy times you have to push through. The thought of him not waking up for hours upon hours on end made you riddled with anxiety. You breathed a sigh of relief, letting the stress of the day roll off of you a little. You knew this wasn’t anything to be completely relaxed about, but as long as he was alive and well - it would suffice for tonight.

You felt another buzz in your hand and looked back down to see a few texts come in from him.

Jungkookie (2:12 A.M.) : Did I hit something?

Jungkookie (2:12 A.M.) : I don’t remember much… but I do remember being really angry for a moment.

Jungkookie (2:13 A.M.) : Sorry, you’re probably asleep. I’m fine for right now. Text me when you wake up. I’ll get you some “sorry you had to go through that again” coffee.

You thought about how to word the next text. You wanted him to sleep, not worry about what had happened.

You: Yeah, you hit something. Don’t worry about it. I’ll explain what happened tomorrow. Please just get some rest.

You placed your phone back onto the nightstand. Placing it on silent so you wouldn’t be woken up again for tonight.

‘Well, I should tell Yoongi. He’s probably just as worried as me.’ You thought to yourself as you got out of the large bed and made your way to the door.

You opened the door to find him sitting forward on the couch, mindlessly typing away at his laptop on the coffee table. He heard your footsteps and looked up. He looked tired, more so than his usual sleepy demeanor.

“Have you slept?” You asked, worried for your friend. You knew you should’ve let him take the bed.

“I can’t. I’ve been so uneasy for a while now.” He responded, not dropping his attention from you.

You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of butterflies in your stomach upon hearing his raspy voice. You mentally slapped yourself and sat next to him. Trying to be casual even though you felt small under his gaze.

“Well. You can rest easy for tonight, he texted me,” You replied, a little solemn, “he’s fine, just tired. And he kind of knows that he hit you? But he’s still a little out of it.”

“As long as he’s okay, I can handle a little punch from the guy.” Yoongi chuckled, trying to lighten the situation. But just as the small noise escaped from his mouth you saw the pain and worry flood right back into his features.

Yoongi leaned back into the couch cushions. Letting out a harsh sigh as one of his hands ran through his dark fringe.

“They grow on his lungs and throat. They bloom when he gets triggered. So in Jungkook’s case - it’s when he thinks of her.” Yoongi bit out the last word.

He must have been researching.

You nodded, “Yeah, the doctor’s explained it. They said it’s quite painful, and they have to be coughed up or they just get stuck in his airways.” You looked down at your feet. The image of Jungkook struggling to breathe clouding your mind.

“I… I - It’s fatal.” Yoongi whispered, barely wanting to form the thought - let alone the words. You looked over at him, his face didn’t show much emotion, but when the two of you looked into each others eyes you could feel the worry and pain he was suffering. You knew you looked exactly the same.

You reached out and held his hand in yours, “I know, Yoongi…” You admitted.

He looked down and slowly nodded his head. He had to accept this like you did, even knowing the possible outcome.

“I won’t let him die. I’ll get him to have the surgery. Force him if I have to.” You said, determination laced your weak voice.

Yoongi leaned forward and grabbed your body and hugged you to his. A tight grip wrapped around your waist. You were taken aback by the sudden skinship, but found yourself wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in tighter. The position was awkward, your legs draped over his and he held your waist, both of your bodies turned sideways.

“I’m going to help.” Yoongi said quietly, as if he only wanted you to hear it.

“We’re going to make him better. You and I…” Yoongi trailed, pushing away slightly to look you in the eyes.

“You don’t have to be alone in this.” He rasped, slowly resting his forehead against yours.

That faint feeling of butterflies from before grew as intense as Yoongi’s stare. He stared at you with a look of something much more than empathy, it was more passionate.

He dropped his gaze after several moments passed and he shifted slightly, pulling his arms away from you. As if he was about to get up and leave you. You wanted him to stay, not wanting to feel apart from him, not wanting him to let go. You quickly reached and grabbed one of his fleeing hands. You swallowed as he looked down at the hand that grasped his tightly. Yoongi froze, processing what you were doing. He looked back up at you, this gaze, was vulnerable. The tension was thick, but you wanted him with you. You needed him.

Your eyes flickered down to see his other hand slowly moving upwards. He intertwined his fingers back with yours, as his other hand made its way to the side of your cheek. Your breath hitched as the pad of his soft thumb moved gently across your cheekbone. After feeling his soft touch, you leaned into his hand a little, savoring the feeling of the gesture. You couldn’t really contemplate what was happening, but you didn’t want to pull away. This was a new Yoongi, and you wanted to see more of his gentle, caring side.

You tilted your head back up and locked eyes,

“You don’t have to be alone.” He whispered, his shallow breathing now obvious with the way his lips parted. The intimacy was almost too much. As you felt yourself melt into Yoongi, both of you leaning ever so slightly forward. It wasn’t long until all you could think about was his lips, and how you needed them against yours.

The hand on your cheek caressed the side of your face as he finally gave in. His lips brushed against yours, leaving a gentle tingle where you wanted him. As he heard your soft sigh he took it as a sign for him to keep going. He tilted his head down and kissed you, soft lips connected with yours and you felt nothing but emotions run through you. The kiss was loving, sensitive, and overall, breathtaking.

You let your hands trail up to Yoongi’s chest as his moved to settle on your waist. The kiss was slow, but nonetheless it was intense. Your heart raced and you felt Yoongi’s thump loudly under your hands. You didn’t know where this newfound passion came from, especially with Yoongi, but you couldn’t let go.

One of Yoongi’s arms wrapped around your waist as another one slid around the side of your neck. The feeling of his soft hand on your neck made you sigh into his mouth. Upon hearing that Yoongi pulled you onto him. You moved to straddle him, pushing yourself to be as close to him as possible.

Your arms reached up and twisted in with the hair on the back of his head, pulling him to you, kissing him more fervently.

He pushed you away slightly as he took in your slightly disheveled form. The t-shirt you wore was now hanging off of one of your shoulders, the shorts were ridden up, lips wet, parted and swollen from the kiss. He groaned your name, while caressing the side of your face. You leaned into his touch again.

“Let me be with you.” Yoongi whispered, hardly audible, but just loud enough to feel yourself give into him.

You brushed some of his hair away from his eyes. The way they brightened as they looked at you, how they held so much meaning in such simple glances. You could stare into them for hours.

You held his face like he was holding yours, “Be with me, Yoongi.”

And like that it was like something between the two of you snapped. He kissed you like he couldn’t breathe, and you were the only air in the room. You pushed yourself to him as close as possible, wanting nothing more than to feel his body against yours. Your fingers trembled a little out of adrenaline, and you felt his breath shake for the same reason.

You both grabbed onto each other for dear life. Hands groping shoulders, chests, faces, backs, anything that you could grab and hold onto. You both ravaged each other as you felt the need for more continued to build and build.

As much as you wanted this to keep going, you definitely wanted more room to “play” than Yoongi’s small couch. You swiftly stood up in front of him and you smiled when his lips tried to chase yours when you pulled away. You grabbed his hand and pulled him up so you could both walk into his bedroom. When he stood up your breath hitched as he instantly grabbed your hips and pulled you to him. He smiled as he leaned in to place a peck on your lips.

The two of you awkwardly walked back into his bedroom, not wanting to break the contact you shared. Placing pecks and kisses all over each other’s faces as you couldn’t help but smile at one another.

As the bedroom door behind you shut and you felt your knees touch the edge of the bed, you felt the intensity return. The giggles were gone, now replaced by pants and soft sighs. Yoongi paused from kissing you to slightly push you back onto the bed. You landed with a slight gasp and before you could process it, Yoongi was back on top of you, placing soft and slow kisses from the edge of your mouth down to your jaw. You shuddered when he placed a quick kitten lick at that one soft spot under your ear. You could feel him smirk into your neck as he felt the slight tremor run through you.

Yoongi’s hands were grabbing at your waist as he slowly pulled the shirt up so he could touch your skin. His warm hands felt amazing as he finally touched you somewhere more sensitive. They rubbed over the soft skin of your stomach and you relaxed under his touch. Meanwhile, your hands grabbed at his back, trying to bring up his shirt a little.

Yoongi stopped his ministrations on your neck to lean back on his knees. Your shirt was ridden up to where it showed your stomach but slightly covered your chest. The two of your were out of breath as Yoongi grabbed at the hem of his shirt and pulled it up and over his head. His black fringe flopped back over his eyes, making him look even more devilish than before. You groaned at the sight before looking down at his torso. He wasn’t muscular by any means but he was toned, and his skin was tanner than you expected.  

You were too busy staring at him to realize he’s been running his hands up your thighs and over your stomach, grabbing the hem of your shirt and slowly pushing it up.

“Let me see you baby.” Yoongi groaned, with his deep raspy voice that nearly made you melt on the spot.

You arched your back so he could pull up the rest of the shirt, tossing it to the side somewhere. You were left completely bare as you did not wear anything underneath to sleep in that night. Yoongi couldn’t help but moan at the sight of your breasts perked and needy for his touch. He leaned back down and crashed his lips into yours, running his tongue over your bottom lip as he groped your chest with his large, rough hands.

Your tongues explored each others mouths as his fingers pinched at your nipples, making you squeak at the sharp but pleasurably twinge.

“So… Fucking… Sexy…” Yoongi murmured in between kisses. He pulled your bottom lip between his teeth as he detached himself from your mouth. Quickly biting down on the supple flesh of your breast. He heard a soft moan leave your lips and that spurred him to keep pleasuring you. His mouth enclosed around one of your nipples and sucked harshly, making your back arch against his.

As he continued to bite and suck at your chest you weaved your hands into his hair, pulling slightly at the locks when he did something really pleasurable.

Yoongi looked up at you and held eye contact as he left wet kisses from your chest down to your stomach, coming to a stop at the top of your shorts. He played the top of them, pulling them back a little so they would pop against you, making you jump a little.

You watched as he continued to hold your gaze as he kissed all around your hips and over your shorts, but never where you felt the undeniable need for him.

You couldn’t handle much more of the teasing, “Y - Yoongi… please.” You whined, wanting, needing more of him.

“Be patient babygirl, I’m all yours.” He said, still staring deeply into your eyes.

Yoongi wasn’t necessarily dominant, but he was definitely taking most of the control tonight.

He finally pulled your loose shorts off of your hips, gradually making your arousal shown to him. As he sat back and threw the shorts across the room you felt a surge of shyness flow through you. You squeezed your thighs together and placed your hands on your lower stomach, avoiding eye contact with Yoongi. You knew you were embarrassingly wet, and you’ve never felt so exposed to Yoongi before, this was all really new for you.

His hands spread your thighs back apart and he massaged the sensitive flesh in the inner part of your legs. He noticed a shiver run through you, he thought it was because of the sensitive touch but when he looked up he saw you were looking away from him with your cheeks blushing profusely.

“Look at me princess.” He said, firm and commanding, yet still gentle.

You turned your head and saw he was giving you a small but sweet smile.

“Is this okay? I want to make you feel amazing, baby.” He spoke, and reached one of his hands up to intertwine with yours still resting on your stomach.

His care and reassurance made you feel significantly more comfortable, you wanted this, and with each passing touch or word said you wanted him more and more.

“I want this, Yoongi.” You said, softly but full of assurance.

He smirked as he laid against the bed. “Good. Because you look so fucking beautiful right now.”

He kissed up your thighs and continued to massage the flesh around your heat, helping you relax into him. He took one of his long fingers and trailed it from your entrance to your clit, spreading your slick arousal. You watched as he took a finger and rubbed small tight circles onto your clit, making you moan softly at the feeling.

“So… So wet. You like this baby?” He groaned, his breath fanning over you making you squirm.

“Yoongi…” You moaned, reaching to grab at the sheets on the side of you.

He finally gave in and licked a stripe along you, making you sigh. His tongue rolled around your clit as his finger continued to brush against your entrance. You shivered as he moaned against you, small vibrations running through you as you lost yourself in Yoongi. His tongue was working wonders on you, and you knew if he kept it up it wouldn’t be long until you came.

When you were too busy focusing on his tongue he snuck a long finger into your core, pushing almost to his knuckle and then pushing his finger upwards. The pressure made you squeal and tangle a hand into Yoongi’s hair.

He pulled his mouth away from you and watched your face contour as his finger continued to pump in and out of you. The second you opened your eyes and looked down at him he licked his lips and adding another finger. You hissed at the slight stretch but held the erotic gaze with Yoongi.

Something about the way he looked at you made you instantly weak for him. Especially when it looked like he was about to eat you alive. Just when you thought you were going to combust under his touch he tilted his head and bit his lip.

“You like watching me, babygirl? How naughty…” He smirked at the last part of the dirty words. Holding his gaze as you whined helplessly at his words.

His tongue darted out of his mouth and went back to fervently running over your clit. That feeling plus the growing intense pleasure of Yoongi’s fingers slowly fucking you were making you lose it. His name was spilling from your lips quietly, and you didn’t even realize how it affected him until you heard him groan loudly back at you.

Your hips started to buck a little as your orgasm was rapidly approaching. Yoongi’s free arm came up and held your hips down and he pushed his hand against your stomach. You tried to squirm under him until you felt that white pang of pleasure shot through your whole being.

Your whole body trembled slightly as you saw stars covering your vision. Your body was hot, and your face blushing. The white-hot pleasure seeped through you as you felt yourself release onto Yoongi’s slowing fingers. He was still slowly pumping you as you rode out your incredible high.

After a few moments of heavy panting you looked down to see a steady fire in Yoongi’s eyes. He crawled up so he was level with you again, and that’s when you felt the prominent bulge in his shorts brush against your inner thigh. You couldn’t bring your eyes to look at it though as Yoongi’s commanding stare forced you to lock with his.

He brought his hand up and brushed it against your flushed cheek. You pushed your head up to try and kiss his lips, but he pulled away just enough to where you couldn’t reach him. You whined slightly at the distance, wanting to feel his mouth against you.

He hummed, “You are the most exquisite thing, I could stare at you all day long.”

You looked up at him with big eyes, scanning his face as he memorized yours. You grew impatient as the sensitivity in your core subsided and was replaced by another wave of intense lust for the dark-haired man on top of you.

You tried to sneak a kiss out of him again, but instead he turned his head away at just the last second. You wanted him, to please him like he just pleased you. You quickly bit down lightly on his neck, leaving a small pink mark. He shuddered at the feeling against his sensitive spot, and you took that as a sign to finally tease him right back.

“Yoongi…” you moaned out, slowly dragging a hand from his chest all the way down to his hard cock poking against your inner thigh.

“Fuck baby.” He moaned right back, looking down to watch your hand as you gripped him over his shorts.

The hand that was still on your face moved around the side of your neck, grasping slightly to pull your attention back up to him. Lust clouded his face, as the slight tug made you moan in pleasurable pain.

“You don’t know... how long I’ve wanted to see you like this…” Yoongi spoke. Before you could even think about what he had just confessed he was crashing his swollen lips back onto yours. The fiery bouts of passion swarmed through the two of you and you were melting into Yoongi. His taste, his touch, his complete being. In this very moment, you were all his.

Your arms clawed at his back, leaving lines of scratches as you both kissed, licked, and sucked on each other’s lips. His body fully pressed against you, leaving only his flimsy pair of shorts in the way of fully feeling him.

You got antsy and wiggled a hand down to his drawstring, pulling slightly to let him know what you want. He bit down on your lip and you sighed into his mouth.

Wordlessly he pulled away and sat back on his knees, untying the knot and sliding the pair of shorts and boxers down. His erection popped out and you were shocked to see just how hard and red it was. He wasn’t lacking in size either, not huge but just enough to feel yourself become wetter by the second.

You reached a hand out to stroke him but he instead grabbed it with his hand and pinned it by your head.

“Tonight’s all about you baby. Can I please you again?” He groaned, feeling his length brush against your bare skin.

You whimpered slightly as he slightly grinded into you. Wanting him more and more with each passing second.

“Yoongi… please… I need you.” You whispered.

That’s all it took for him. He sucked your neck as he sneakily opened his nightstand drawer and pulled a condom out. You made note on how good he was at multitasking before he pulled back to roll the condom on. And he sat back you breathed harshly. The adrenaline was coursing through you and it took all your willpower to not attack him.

He looked down at you with hooded eyes as he slowly pumped himself, watching as you squirmed slightly with each passing moment. He finally aligned himself at your entrance he slid the tip across your still swollen clit, making you gasp.

He leaned down to whisper in your ear as his other hand gripped your waist firmly, “I’m going to make love to you my princess, I want you to not think of anything else besides me.”

You couldn’t form any coherent words due to your extreme neediness. You just pushed a hand into his hair and pulled him back to your lips.

He slowly pushed his length inside of you, stilling once he bottomed-out. You gasped as you felt yourself pulse around him. He stretched you out deliciously, with hardly any pain from how wet you were. You nodded a little when you couldn’t wait any longer. Yoongi slowly pulled out until the tip was barely inside of you, before pushing himself back in slow, but hard. You threw your head back as he continued his deep, intense fuck into you. You had never felt this amazing, you could barely think straight, and you weren’t even sure where you ended and he began. It was like the two of you fell into the swirl of limbs tied together by pleasure and hunger.

“Look at me.”

Your squeezed shut eyes fluttered open to see Yoongi with his signature stare. The stare he has harbored towards you.

You fell into his hypnotic gaze as he brushed random strands of hair out of your face. The gentle brush of his fingertips had a stark contrast to the harsh smacking of his hips against yours.

You shakily reached a hand up and curled it against his cheek. You weren’t really sure why, but it was all you could think to do.

“I had imagined this. But I imagined it all wrong. You are far more beautiful in this real moment than you were in my fantasies.’ Yoongi whispered, just loud enough so you could hear the waver in his voice.

He was just as lost in you as you were in him.

He reached down and pulled one of your legs up to wrap around his waist a bit higher, squeezing your trembling thigh along the way.

You could tell by a certain flicker in his eye that he was close. Small beads of sweat rolled down his temples as he began rocking into you a little faster.

He groaned out your name as his hand came down to rub unforgivingly at your swollen clit. You felt waves of electricity spike through your body and you knew you were about to reach your second high of the night.

You were clawing at Yoongi’s back, but he didn’t seem too pained by it, he was still completely focused on your face.

“Cum on my cock baby. Let me feel you.” He said, voice shaking ever so slightly.

He continued to whisper dirty words and sweet nothings at you. You couldn’t process them though as the only think you could think about was him inside you. You couldn’t take it anymore. After a certain hard snap of his hips you fell over the edge. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as your mouth hung wide open. Your whole body trembled as you arched against him. You lost all sense of control as the most intense and powerful orgasm you had ever felt took it’s toll.

Yoongi was completely shocked at the sight of your mind-blowing orgasm, he immediately came. With you writhing there uncontrollably, chanting his name like it was the only word you knew.

He had never seen anything sexier in his entire life.

The two of you floated on Cloud 9. Limbs tangled, kisses shared, until you were both brought back to reality. He pushed himself off the bed to clean himself up as you tried to cover yourself up.

What just happened with Yoongi was amazing, but you weren’t sure if it meant that much to you as it did him. Some of the things he was saying, how he was treating you, it all seemed like it was a confession to you.

When Yoongi came back he smiled at you brightly, and you smiled back. He got under the covers with you and pulled you to him. He stared at your face sweetly before drawing lazy circles on the bare skin on your arm and neck.

“You’re so beautiful.” Yoongi spoke.

You stared in his eyes again, trying to read the meaning behind them. All you found was bright happiness. You smiled back at him before brushing some of his fallen pieces of hair from his face. You didn’t know what this meant between the two of you. But… you could figure that out tomorrow.

You closed your eyes and nestled into him more. You felt the heavy blanket of sleep start to take over your body as your eyes drooped. The last thing you saw before closing you eyes was the dark bruise that Jungkook left on him earlier that night.

You thought about Jungkook again, wondering if he was sleeping well. What would he think of you and Yoongi? You let out a deep exhale as the events from the past 24 hours sant in. At least it was over for now, and you could sleep comfortably.

The warmth of Yoongi’s hands coaxed you to sleep as they caressed your skin. Right when you were about to fall asleep you heard Yoongi whisper,

“Please don’t leave me.”

[apostatively]

I try not to post a lot about my personal life on here as with all social media, due to the little voice in the back of my head insisting that my life is way too boring and/or depressing to bother anyone with. But I really need to vent, so here it is. I feel like a total failure. The last year has been hell for us, and part of it is the monsters running this country who continue to suck any hope for the future out of me to the point where it's difficult to function day-to-day, and part of it is finances. Some terrible decisions were made, championed by me, to uproot us from Baltimore to Augusta, GA, which cost a few thousand dollars all told because the movers apparently took us for a ride and then didn't even log our move in such a way that the military would reimburse us for it as they should have, effectively losing us $4k. The job we moved for became disputed by another company and any hiring was frozen, leaving me unemployed for a few months: by the time I'd found multiple retail jobs to try to tide us over due to savings running dry, the contract was resolved, but the company said that "the customer" was no longer releasing/filling my job area in Augusta. On top of that, the Limited went under and I lost one of my retail jobs. I started interviewing and applying for other Intel jobs like crazy, knowing that a five-month hiatus from my very tech-driven and fast-moving career field wasn't something I could really afford. This was in February. We were reduced to a ramen noodle budget and I was donating plasma as often as I could to try to make ends meet, but it still wasn't enough. At this point we had already borrowed a lot of money from family and friends, which we have yet to find a way to pay back. You know the images of the food they cook in FFXV? I was starting to get legitimately resentful of that delicious-looking fictional food because what I could afford was ramen, and I was still gaining a ton of weight due to a combination of a cheap, high-sodium/fat/sugar diet, intense anxiety, and simply being too depressed to work out. In February I got what could have been a life-preserver for us, if not for the fact that the job came at the expense of my mental health. Since February I've been a 911 call-taker, which pays enough for us to barely make ends meet, and was still working at Teavana. Unfortunately, this job is the most legitimately terrifying thing I've ever done. It's like anxiety Russian-roulette: every time I answer a line it could be a sweet little old lady with a question about the noise ordinances in our town, or it could be a hysterical screeching person so loud I literally jump back in my chair, giving me no information and screaming abuse at me when I can't make responders appear for them within eight seconds. I hate it. I do it for us, but it's the worst thing I've ever had to do in my life. I hate working in a technical law-enforcement field, I hate having to fight so hard not to let this sour my view of humanity, I hate that the 12-hour overnight shift they've assigned me to has left me nocturnal on top of the anxiety-riddled sleeplessness I'm already struggling with, I hate the constant compulsion to eat a ton of crap that is just making me bigger and bigger, I hate that I can't seem to find anything better, and when they sent me for my mandatory week of (essentially) boot camp for this job back in June, I had to read transcripts of dozens of emergency services calls placed on 9/11 as the towers were coming down, and I had an outright breakdown, knowing with certainty that if I couldn't handle my own stress I wasn't going to be able to handle anyone else's under a similar emergency situation, and the knowledge that I had to get out or I was going to get someone killed has stuck with me. In the meantime, I have nothing in common with most of my coworkers: they're a loud, close-knit group of Southern women who have all grown up in this area, they pray before each shift (at a government job???!) and gladly pay $20 per pay period to the shift's fund for birthdays and bereavements. It's intimidating, and I'm slow to open up in a new work environment anyway, and I'm pretty sure they think I'm stuck up when I'm just trying to keep my head above water and have trouble reaching out to my own family, let alone coworkers. They've never gone out of their way to include me, and I feel completely isolated both by myself and them. In mid-July, after months of working my ass off to woo potential recruiters for companies in my area, the company that wanted to hire me for GA initially finally came forward with a solid offer for me, for a job for which we'd need to relocate back to Baltimore. They had me go through urinalysis, sign a metric ton of paperwork, basically commitment-implying things. I've never gotten this far in the hiring process with them before, and my recruiters were communicating with me fairly regularly. It seemed like there was finally an end in sight to this year from hell. I gave two weeks' notice at my jobs before being warned not to "just yet" by my recruiter - thanks for the timing there, bud. I explained the situation to the 911 administrator and he generously doubled the time I had left, allowing me to stay for a month instead of the two weeks I'd given. (The day after my "last day" at Teavana I heard that Starbucks is shutting us down, which hit me hard, because unlike 911 I related to and love my coworkers there, they're amazing people and this news was seriously distressing; I couldn't go crawling back there asking for an extension when they have enough problems without me.) My new last day at 911 is tomorrow's night shift, and I'm completely terrified, because new job has yet to give me a start date, a full month after starting the hiring process with me. I get paid on Friday but that may be the last full-sized paycheck I can expect, and it's mostly going to go to rent. I keep running our budget over and over in my head, trying to figure out how to make it stretch when the money stops coming in. I may have to start donating plasma again to the tune of about $60 a week, when the very experience of having a massive needle shoved in my arm draining stuff out of me is a horrific experience that makes me want to scream. Even if I can manage to pay all our bills until I can start getting paid from this new job - unlikely - I still have to figure out how to afford to live day-to-day until then, alone in Baltimore while Michelle is here *alone* until we can get paid and afford to move, and I'm hoping one of the few friends I have in Baltimore will let me crash on their couch until then bc we have no money for a cheap hotel or Airbnb room at this point, and it's not even worth the attempt to try to get a loan unless we feel like depressing some bank tellers pointlessly. There is literally no other financial place to turn. I check my email about fifty times a day hoping for an update and immediately getting disappointed when there is still nothing. I've gone through this cycle so many times with at least seven different companies this year but never so far along in the process: sometimes there will be a week where *everybody* wants to talk to you, they want their bosses to talk to you bc they're so impressed, they want to know about your experience and salary requirements and spend hours on the phone with you each day and you think they're really serious, that you finally might really get an offer....and then radio silence, for weeks, bare-minimum answers when you contact them, bc recruiters don't like to talk to you when they have all the information they need from you and have no positive updates to give. I've spiraled from this routine more times than I can count, and this is exactly what it feels like to me. What's taking so long? Is there a problem? Can I be doing something else on my end? (How can I make you see how crazy this is making me without looking unprofessional?!?!?) This feeling of hopelessness and rejection is crushing me. Between this, the chaotic evil bodies at work in our government, and nearly a year of intense depression, I'm barely functioning. I have no motivation to do anything, I'm just eating and breathing for news on this job that could finally, finally save us/me. On top of my already-nocturnal schedule, I keep going days without sleeping and then doing nothing *but* sleeping for days. Our pantry is full of ramen again bc I'm rationing for the worst. I don't know what to do, and I can't go on like this for long. I just literally have no idea what I'm supposed to do. How to I outlast this? How do I save us? I've given up on staying strong or healthy; I'm just trying to stay mobile and functional, because that's what I'm good for. But it's been so long, and I have no idea how when nothing is in my control anymore.

[adangereux]

Emily and Amelia Nagoski have written this really excellent book called Burnout. i love it. it makes me cry healing, recognizes tears every time i read it. 11/10, will always recommend. i’ve decided i’m going to do this exercise here, as daily as possible.

Long-Term Gratitude Lifter: My Gratitude-For-How-Things-Happen for Today-

05/25/19

I Made it Through the Kid Swim Lessons Without Losing My Shit or Yelling.

today was a hard one. i was super exhausted and disappointed that the sleep study i did Thursday night failed to qualify me for CPAP intervention which i was really hoping to try as this Eternal Fucking Fatigue from Hell is fucking with my mental health something awful. it was also a busy week of family staying with me. there had been a few times in the last week where i said to myself “i’m surprisingly unfatigued right now” but i tried not to overthink it. well the shit-fan kicked into gear this morning.

okay, backstory complete. now comes the gratitude. as i was getting the kids and myself packed and ready to go to swim lessons, i was overcome with the kind of tiredness that makes you want to sit down and melt into a sad puddle. a saddle. i was really not in a good place. (i feel like i’m not doing this right at all ☹️ maybe because i feel the need to explain why this seemingly simple thing was actually really fucking difficult. i’ll keep going because i’m still learning how to do this and i don’t have to get it right the first time or every time. there’s a little piece of self-compassion which they also talk about a lot in this book.) i reached out for connection and help. i wrote a thing about how upset and disappointed i was that the sleep study didn’t do what i hoped and how it was painfully riddled with anxiety. i was honest about the dispair i felt. i asked for feedback and i set out my plan for the day which was:

shower, because that’s usually the first thing that helps me feel better when i’m struggling.

text my therapist to tell them

how hopeless if felt.

text my partner.

rest as much as possible after we got home from swim lessons.

sleep, if i could.

i got good and helpful feedback and connection from my group post. i communicated effectively with my partner. i had a plan for the rest of the day.

so i got out of the shower and packed all the things we would need for the swim lessons. i chose to blow dry my hair a bit and changed from the first thing i wore, which was a bit uncomfortable, into a soft sun dress. i put my Wonder Woman bandanna in my hair. i put on my tinted sunscreen and a bit of serum foundation. i did these things because they were caring for myself. they made me feel a tiny bit more human and kind to myself and that’s always a good thing.

we load up into the car and drive to the Y. i’m a bit grumpy as we’re getting out of the car but i’m cognizant of it and am able to tone it down. we sign in and head to the locker room. E sits down in the hall and takes off her skirt. i continue to the locker room without scolding her. she calls to wait up and i don’t respond but i also don’t yell at her to hurry up. we put their things in the locker. E and i have a small miscommunication and i say “why do you even ask me if you can do this thing if you do it anyway without listening to me” and she is surprised and hurt at my nasty tone. (this is a tough spot for me. this is the main negative thing my brain wants to focus on. her look of surprise and hurt and betrayal at my tone over something so insignificant. i choose not to dwell here. i will talk to her about it tomorrow and apologize). we get to the pool and their lessons begin. i am so tired that it hurts to stand. i want to sit down but to do so will mean either moving to one pool or the other and choosing one kid over the other or moving a chair to the middle near a doorway and this bringing attention to the fat mom who can’t even stand up she’s so lazy and god, no wonder she’s such a fat ass. (these are, obviously, no self-compassionate thoughts aside from being cognitive distortions). i stayed where i was for as long as i could and then i chose to go over to the pool F was in and sit there. this was kind to myself and listening to what my body was telling me it needed. i did my best to ignore the negative shit that bubbled around. F’s lesson ended and we went to get him showered and changed. as we made our way back out to get E, she tearfully found me and said she was scared that she couldn’t find me. i wasn’t patient with her but i also didn’t yell at her. we got her showered and changed. i spoke mostly kindly. we got into the car to head home. at one point i was stuck behind an oblivious guy at a green light and while i honked once and the a quick twice when he still sat there, i DIDNT yell or curse at him because i have realized that the anger and frustration i feel with other drivers seems to be increasing and yet it doesn’t help me at all to get all pissed and yelly and that also sets a poor example for the kids. so, that was a definite win for me.

we got home and i was super hungry. it was a difficult body-image day for me but i knew that it was important that i eat. I* offered to make me a grilled cheese and i accepted his help. i also warmed up some green beans because i wanted to make produce a priority. i then lay down and watched a show while my food was being made. i ate. i napped for several hours. i communicated dinner plans and accepted the help of I* preparing it. i also chose to to some art therapy and pushed through the uncomfortable pieces of it and it was helpful.

the times that i look back and cringe a bit are usually related to harsh words to the kids or I. i apologize frequently to the kids and sometimes that feels like i’m showcasing my fuck-ups but i know that mistakes are a part of life and the important part is apologizing and doing better as often as possible.

i’m proud of the skills i used, the connection i sought, the communication i instigated, the help i accepted and the rest i embraced today. it really made a difference.

[mintchocolateleaves]

93 for Hakuba and Kaito! Please? ♡♡♡

Sure thing!

#93 - ‘It’s a real shame nobody asked for your opinion.’

There is something inherently wrong about this heist. Something different in the way KID carries himself as the evening progresses.

At first, Saguru doesn’t muse on it. In fact, Saguru doesn’t pay it any mind until both he and Kuroba - he’s certain KID is Kuroba Kaito, and it’s irritating that he can’t prove it - are standing on the roof of the heist’s venue.

It’s not until he watches Kuroba raise the gemstone to the moonlight that Saguru realises everything is about to change. It is not until he hears the thief exhale, a sigh of relief, that he catches on - tonight is Kaitou 1412’s final heist.Saguru knows it from the way Kuroba’s body language shutters from unreadable to desperate. Knows from the sideways glance the thief sends him from behind his monacle, poker face faltering.

“You’ve found what you’ve been looking for then.” Saguru asks, although he’s not expecting a straight answer. Kuroba has never been one to give straight answers, says a magician never tells -even when Saguru isn’t asking magic-related questions. He’s frustrating like that, never offering well rounded explanations.

“Yes.”

Well that’s… out of character when placed against the mental file Sagura has developed on the thief over the years. He’d been expecting something along the lines of, ‘you’re a detective, deduce it yourself,’ or ‘I’m looking for all the gem stones I steal’. This doesn’t seem to fit the mental image of the person Saguru has come to view as his rival.

“You won’t be giving this one back.” It’s not a question, more a confirmation. Saguru isn’t sure why he thinks they won’t see this stone again when KID gives all of the gems he steals back in the end. Thoughts in the back of his mind however, the stray thoughts he dismisses when trying to deduce KIDs next movements, warn him about body language. They whisper that Kuroba wouldn’t be this vulnerable over something he’s planning to give back.

“Will you stop me if I don’t?” The thief turns, and his poker face is back, even if his smile is a little warped. “Would you even be able to, Tantei-san?”

The words role of his tongue. Smug, in the way Kuroba always manages to be. Saguru wonders where KID task force are, before dismissing the thought - they have never been much help, not against a genius like 1412.

“What you do is wrong,” Saguru says, frowning, “but at least you give your prizes back in the end. It’s what the task force respects in a thief like you.”Kuroba’s smile falters, only slightly, but enough for Saguru to notice.

“It’s a real shame then, that nobody asked for your opinion, Hakuba Saguru.”

Saguru leans forward. His browns are knitted together with concentration, mind racing in an attempt to figure out why Kuroba is acting differently tonight. Does it have anything to do with the men who shoot at him during heists? Has he just grown bored of thievery? What has he been looking for, for so long?

“But never to worry,” KID continues, dipping his hat in as a sign of respect. He is ever the gentleman. “You won’t have to chase me around after tonight. I’m hanging up my cape.”

For half a decade, Saguru has been chasing KID in the hopes of finally catching him. In the hope that he can finally put a stop to the continuous heists which always end with police embarrassment. To treat thievery as a show is outrageous, and he’s always hated Kuroba for making such an open mockery out of the police.

But now, he finds that he doesn’t want Kuroba to quit being KID.

Is this how Inspector Nakamori felt when the first Kaitou 1412 disappeared? Is this the reason over ten years later he’s fond of each heist, despite all the paperwork he needs to carry out in spite of it?

“Inspector Nakamori will worry when you don’t send any word of a heist.” Saguru says, the closest he can get to expressing his own emotions. He has been stifled by facts and logic for so long, that now his own feeling seem out of reach.

“I’ll be sure then,” Kuroba says, “to send him and the rest of the task force a note bidding them farewell.”

Saguru takes a step forward. He has spent hours, days, years stuck on the case of Kaitou 1412, KID’s case, and now it is about to disappear. There will be no more heists, no more exclamation of 'Ladies and Gentlemen’ as Kuroba entertains the crowds that flock during every notice. Despite spending years struggling over riddles, Saguru doesn’t know what he’s going to do without the wretched things to fill his time.

His entire reason for coming to Tokyo was to catch KID.

If KID disappears, will Saguru even have a reason to stay? He doesn’t know.

“Well then,” Kuroba says, “these heists weren’t nearly as easy as they would’ve been without you here, Tantei-san. You’ve made me work for this gem.”

Saguru’s shoulders droop as KID leaps onto the roof’s edge. Pressing a button, his hang-glider comes into view.

“I suppose that’s meant to be a compliment.” Saguru sighs.

“Not at all,” Kuroba chirps. “You’ve been a pain this whole time. Do you know how vexing you are? I could’ve done this all in a much shorter time if you’d never been here.”

The comment stings, but it also makes Saguru feel like he’s given KID a fairly good fight, even if he’s not won against him.

“Goodbye then,” he says, “Kuroba.”

KID doesn’t respond. Instead, he turns to face Saguru, lifting his hand up in a wave, stepping off from the ledge. As Saguru races to the edge, he watches the faint outline of KID’s glider returning him to the ground. He slips into the crowd unnoticed in a new disguise.

Saguru sighs.

Here’s a masterpost of my writing.

[amateursailormoonfan]

13th Dr 2nd  WIP - Ice Creatures

It was easier, when she felt less human.

Watching her image in front of the mirror, she sensed a difference. Her white coat was flung on the floor, as the TARDIS had gone through a bit of a fit, and the temperature had gone up a few degrees. Or maybe 30 degrees. She couldn’t really tell, but Graham and Ryan had been complaining, so she asked the ship nicely to fix it. Normally, she’d ignore the change, but everyone else was taking off their coats, so she did too. For solidarity.

Those temperature fluctuations were odd. She’d have to check it, eventually.

For solidarity. Her last incarnation hadn’t really been user-friendly to his companions, so she tried to fix that. She did her best to make things comfortable for the humans. Her friends. Three tagalongs. Three of her best mates. Different terms, same thing. All those definitions mingled in her head. He used to not think about those sorts of things, except in the last incarnation, all Scottish and cross, but quite the thinker. The last incarnation had thought hard about that sort of thing, all his life, till his death.

And she was left to do the thinking. Well, to do something. Before, it was easier, when the Doctor had been running from the screams of the Time War. Just keep running. No matter what. But the screams had ended. She remembered the pain, but didn’t feel the pain anymore. She was free.

And it was terrifying. She hadn’t felt like this since her incarnation with the long scarf, not this enthusiastic, not this truly happy. But back then, she had been a ebullient explorer, who didn’t care what anyone thought. Not the Daleks, the Cyber-men, Davros, or the Master. Only Romana could even think to bring that 4th incarnation down a notch.

Back then, though, the Doctor had been so much beyond humanity. But now? She felt vulnerable. Not physically (she could aikido with the best of them, and was a mean hand at football, too. Only British football, oddly enough) , but emotionally. It was as if with the pain of the War gone, so was the gravitas. Without the rudeness, so was the arrogance. Without the ability to assume she was the best, so was the certainty that she would win.

Was the War necessary to be the Doctor? Without the strength from the angst, was she weak--

“Doctor!”

“Ah, biology boy,” said the Doctor to herself. She pushed herself off the floor, and opened the door to her mirror room—and a blast of cold air hit her in the face. Those temperature fluctuations apparently had gotten worse. Grabbing her coat, she calmly walked out the door, as a panicked Ryan pointed at icicles forming on the ceiling of the TARDIS hallways.

“So. Yeah,” said Ryan. “The TARDIS has gone mental.”

“Don’t talk about her like that. She’s just got a cold,” said the Doctor, smiling to suggest the pun. Ryan’s face showed no emotion. Tough crowd, the new friends were.

“Her cold is causing me and Graham to freeze. He’s older, can’t take those temps. I’m sure Yaz is freezing too, wherever she is.”

“A temperamental TARDIS is no place to get lost,” said the Doctor. Grabbing out her sonic screwdriver, she scanned the area in her normal arc. (Graham said it looked silly when she did that. It’s not that she didn’t know how it looked, it’s that she didn’t care—she liked doing the arc-y motion, and no one could stop her.) Staring at the display, it read “Yaz’s location is inconclusive.”

No. Not inconclusive. “Undefinable”.

Interesting.

“What’s wrong? You look worried,” asked Ryan.

“Sonic can’t find her,” said the Doctor. That could be extremely bad.

“Is that bad?”

“Mhmm. Might be bad,” said the Doctor. “Might not. Don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried,” said Ryan.

“Check on Graham,” said the Doctor. “Make sure he’s not too cold.”

“You’ll be okay?” asked Ryan.

“Yes,” she said.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rings of ice covered the walls. Her breath turned the air into particles of whiteness, and she trudged through snow. Her boots crunched on the floor, making trails through the powdery covering. A coldness was settling through her bones, though not from the cold weather. Something had invaded her dear old ship, and she could sense the distortion through the walls. It flew through her nose, filtering into her mind.

The sonic screwdriver beeped, echoing throughout the region. It was the sole sound she could sense. No TARDIS sounds, no whirring and humming of the ship. There was something very wrong here.

“Yaz?” she called out. “Yasmin Khan?”

No response. Then, a laughing noise. A deep reverbration, both mocking and cruel.

“Hello. Yaz can not appear now,” said the voice.

“Hello, mysterious voice. How do you do?” asked the Doctor.

“Wonderfully. Do you enjoy my alterations to your ship?”

The Doctor sniffed. “No. Bit too much of a frosty reception. Where’s Yaz?”

“She can not appear now. I have taken her to a dark place.”

The Doctor paused her steps. She was being led by whoever or whatever this creature was, by a question. She knew better than to take the bait. “Why?”

“To teach you a lesson.”

“I love lessons.” Footsteps behind her now. A distraction? “What do you want to teach me?”

“Consequences. You wander the universe, and change things without caring. I am here to teach you a price.”

“And why did you bring Yaz into this?” asked the Doctor.

No response. (Footsteps very close now.)

“Because I don’t take kindly to people harming my friends,” said the Doctor.  “It’s really not the thing to do, mate. “

She swerved around suddenly, preparing to deal with whoever was behind her. It was Ryan, panting from an apparent rush.

“Ryan,” said the Doctor, rolling her eyes. “I told you to stay with Graham!”

“I tried. But I can’t find ‘im! I looked all around. It’s like he’s--

“Disappeared,” said the Doctor gravely. Realizations criss-crossed into her mind.

The sound of laughter filled the halls again. Ryan jumped, and looked around in confusion.

“Where did you take them?” asked the Doctor.

“In the darkness. Into a distant place...”

“Excuse me? Who are you? Do you have my grand dad?”

The ship suddenly lurched. Icicles fell from the ceiling, nearly stabbing the Doctor. Ryan hit the walls, and flailed around.

“Doctor, what’s going on?” asked Ryan.

“It’ll be alright, Ryan!” said the Doctor. “The TARDIS is taking off. It’s trying to shake off the outside influence.”

And the TARDIS whirled and whirled…

Ryan opened his eyes. First thing he noticed was that the air was really, really, cold. He was in a field of grass, covered with a slight smatterring of snow. He could see the TARDIS behind him, looking really rusted. Not normal. Not normal at all. He had almost gotten used to the The Doctor wasn’t too far ahead. She was crouching down , probably analyzing. She was always analyzing, or poking, or explaining. It was a little weird. Well, it was a good weird, but still weird. Her eyes were staring at a blade of grass like it was the answer to a riddle of something.

“Hello Ryan,” said the Doctor, without turning back. “Did you enjoy your nap?”

“Where are we?” asked Ryan.

“Pluto,” said the Doctor offhandedly.

“I thought Pluto was ice,” said Ryan.

“So did I,” said the Doctor. “This grass shouldn’t be here.”

“Where’s grand-dad? And Yaz?” asked Ryan.

The Doctor sighed. Turning around, her face was knotted into a frown, while her brown eyes focused onto him. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? Then we need to find out,” said Ryan. He walked back to the ship, and pulled the ship doors open. Or tried to. They stayed stuck close, even as he budged.

The Doctor leaned on the ship’s front, as Ryan struggled futilely. He banged on the door with his foot, and the Doctor glared at him. “We can’t leave. The ship’s been tampered with. ”

“Tampered by who? That voice I heard in the TARDIS?”

“Yes. Someone’s created a trap for me. I have no idea why,” said the Doctor. “But whoever it is, they’ve taken Yaz and your grand-dad. Whatever happens to them, it’s on me. I need to find them, and so I need to enter that trap. You don’t have to go with me.

“My grand-dad’s in trouble. So I have to,” said Ryan.

“Then let’s go. I think whatever took Graham and Yaz sent us to this planet for a reason. Let’s find out why,” said the Doctor. She gave him a grin, and he could tell she was in full-on adventure mode now.

Large stone towers loomed over them as the two, human and alien, made their way through the planet. Ryan winced, as his shoes were so not meant for this, but the Doctor was fully comfortable. Her mane of yellow hair blew in the breeze, as she strolled around, occasionally stopping to look at one of the towers. Flowery flowing snake-like designs covered large cylinders of what looked like green rock. They looked chiseled, like someone had taken time to get it right. Ryan wondered what sorry guy had to take the time out to etch every single piece.

“They were naturally formed,” said the Doctor.

“That’s weird. When you answer a question I hadn’t asked,” pointed out Ryan.

“Did you ask that? I was thinking for myself. These were formed by ice structures. Can tell from teensy-tiny erosion scratches. Thing is, it’s really, really intricate for ice,” she said. Her finger traced a long pathway over the patterns in the stone. Wind made her long coat flare behind her, and her hair blew into her face. She barely noticed.

“Maybe it was made by someone with ice knives,” said Ryan.

“Good thinking, Ryan,” said the Doctor.