#and he uses a hip brace or a cane on bad days

[thetomorrowshow]

a stuffed deer

empires superpowers au masterlist (currently out of date)

this story takes place about one year after the end of ‘poisoned rats’.

cw: past abuse, religious trauma, referenced past death, deadnaming/misgendering of a character (but the person isn’t really doing it out of mailce, and said character is dead)

~

The closer they get, the more anxious Scott becomes. His hands grip tighter on the steering wheel, he checks his mirrors more often, he glances over at Jimmy every couple of seconds.

This is fine. This is normal, even. He knows what he’s doing. He’s done far more terrifying things than this. He’s nearly died several times, he’s graduated college, he’s been a superhero for years.

He can face his birth parents.

He’s been talking to Nora about it for several months, and he’s come to the conclusion that he needs closure. Not about himself—he fully understands their feelings for him, and made peace with them long ago. No, he’s here for closure on Xornoth.

In the last minutes before their death, Xornoth had declared themself to be Scott’s sibling. As far as he knows, he’d been an only child. If what Xornoth said was true, that puts Scott in charge of any and all of their possessions currently being held by the city. Not that he wants them, but the mayor had asked him to pursue any leads he found on Xornoth’s next of kin and, even though it had taken him an entire year and a half, he finally feels ready to pursue the only one he’s ever had.

Jimmy’s fiddling with the radio next to him, switching between gospel and country. There’s not much else that comes through out here, and they’re going through a dead zone for their data plan, so Jimmy eventually just turns it off and sits back, not-so-subtly watching Scott. Scott resolutely keeps his eyes on the road.

They pass the exit for Milford. If Jimmy’s feeling all right after the visit, maybe they can stop by there, visit the library and community college and homeless shelter.

Half an hour until Briarsville. Scott shifts in his seat, taps the steering wheel lightly.

“What did you think of that motel breakfast?” Jimmy breaks the silence. “I thought it was decent—waffles are always good, at least. But I wouldn’t have touched those sausages with a ten foot pole.”

Scott had only eaten a slice of toast with some watery coffee, too nervous already to have any faith in his stomach. “Not the worst I’ve ever had,” he offers. Jimmy’s just trying to help him relax. He can humor his attempts.

“Well, yeah. I can remember a time when I would’ve killed for a motel breakfast—literally.” Jimmy chuckles nervously, tugs on his seatbelt. “Um—how much longer?”

“Half an hour,” says Scott too quickly. He checks the radio clock, then his rearview mirror. They’re almost there. His heart is really beginning to jump now.

The car is quiet again until they reach exit 42. Briarsville.

Jimmy straightens up, looks between Scott and the town that they’re pulling into. It looks like any run-of-the-mill midwest town, Scott knows. Even the Order of Heaven private school isn’t much of an indicator of anything abnormal.

“We can turn around, you know,” Jimmy says softly. Of course he’d noticed the nerves. Scott’s knuckles have turned white around the wheel, his back is ramrod straight, he’s barely spoken all morning. Jimmy’s not an idiot, and he’s more observant than most people know.

Scott forces himself to relax. “No. I need to do this.”

Jimmy nods and doesn’t argue him any further. That’s something that Scott will always love about Jimmy: he understands. He sees that this is important for Scott and would never try to keep him from it.

And then he’s turning onto Bloomfield Avenue, and he thinks that maybe Jimmy’s right. Maybe he ought to turn back now and cut his losses.

It’s still his last name printed above the door of the house three houses down. The welcome mat is that ugly, waterlogged brown thing that it had been before he’d left. His parents still live here.

Scott pulls into the driveway, then freezes.

“What if we just went home?” he says, voice pitched an octave higher than normal. “We can stop by the country music museum. Or the Appalachian one, I heard it’s—”

“Scott,” interrupts Jimmy. “Normally I would be fine with that, but you just told me you have to do this.” He takes one of Scott’s hands, runs his thumb over his knuckles. “This is important to you. I don’t want you to be kicking yourself for the rest of your life because you got all the way here only to turn back.”

Scott takes in a deep breath, holds it, and lets it out. Then again. Jimmy’s right. Jimmy’s absolutely right. “Yeah,” he whispers.

“And,” Jimmy continues, “if they try to hurt you in any way, I will kill them.”

“You’ve got to stop saying that about everyone we talk to.”

“Hey, I’m just really good at making things look like an accident. Some might even say it’s a superpower.”

“Jimmy.”

“Just saying.”

Scott laughs, kisses his boyfriend on the cheek. He’s ready now. He can go in.

He pulls the key out of the ignition and hops out, then circles round to offer his hand to Jimmy and help him up. Jimmy stops to grab his cane out of the backseat, then gestures encouragingly for Scott to lead the way.

Right. He has to actually go up to the door.

It’s the longest walk of his life, Scott thinks. Even the walk across the stage at graduation hadn’t been this long. But seconds yet seemingly hours later, he’s in front of the door, hand poised to knock.

He swallows, then bites the bullet.

Rat-tat-tat-tat.

It’s only a couple of moments before the door swings open, and his mother is standing before him.

She looks much the same, but changed. Her hair, once grey at the temples, is nearly completely grey with only a few streaks of its former blond. There are a few new lines in her face, only serving to add to the sallowness, the laugh lines he’d once known long-faded. Her hairstyle is the same as ever, her classic Christian mom fashion sense not any different. He takes in all of this, then properly meets her eyes.

“Hello, Mother,” he says, a shiver running up his spine.

She doesn’t say anything at first, eyes passing over Scott to examine Jimmy briefly, sizing him up like a bird of prey. Then she steps aside, pulling the door open wider.

“You’d better come in, hadn’t you,” she says, and the resignation lacing her tone is somehow so much better than the anger he’d expected yet so much worse.

The living room is different. There’s a new couch, pushed up against the wall opposite where it used to be. The easy chair is the same, but also tilted weird and there’s a coffee table for some reason when all it does is take up space. But Scott keeps his complaints to himself and steadies Jimmy as he lowers himself onto the couch, propping his cane up against the coffee table, then sits beside him.

His mother looks at the two of them with something unreadable in her expression, before leaving the room. She returns moments later with two glasses of water.

It’s a test, and Scott doesn’t know if she’s set it up like this or if he set it up for himself, but he takes the water from her hand and sends a little burst of freezing air to chill it, eyes trained on hers the entire time. She doesn’t react.

Jimmy takes his water with a muttered thank you, then she sits down in the easy chair across from them, crossing one leg over the other as she waits for Scott to break the silence.

He takes a sip of his now-cool water (Jimmy passes his own over and Scott forms some of the water into an ice cube before handing it back), takes a deep breath, and speaks.

“Is Dad home? Because—”

“He’s dead,” his mother interrupts. Scott blinks.

Two for two, his mind unhelpfully supplies. 

Is he supposed to mourn an unloved parent? Is he supposed to mourn someone he used to care very deeply about, but proved that they didn’t care for him?

He’s not sure how to feel.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Jimmy says beside him. “That must be terrible.”

“How long?” is all Scott can manage.

“Nearly two years, now,” she replies. “Heart attack while at work.” She clicks her tongue. “I was always telling him to lay off the salt, stop working so hard. Guess he suffered the consequences.”

Scott’s really not sure how to feel. The last memory of his birth father he has is of his face closing off, declaring himself to have no son, and banishing Scott from the house. Would he have liked to reconcile? Is parting easier with his last words being unforgivable?

“I’m so sorry, Mrs—”

“Heidi,” his mother corrects Jimmy, and Jimmy amends his words.

“I’m so sorry, Heidi. I can only imagine the pain.”

That’s the first thing to incite emotion in Scott, because Jimmy can’t only imagine that sort of pain. Jimmy’s lived through the death of loved ones without a house to live in afterwards or a community to support him. Jimmy’s had it worse off. Jimmy shouldn’t have to be placating his terrible excuse for a mother.

He must be getting tense, because Jimmy’s hand runs comfortingly along his knee, and Scott can almost feel the love and support that Jimmy imbues the touch with.

Heidi’s eyes follow the movement, and after a moment, she says gruffly, “Are you going to introduce me to your friend?”

Right. This could go very badly.

“Mother, this is Jimmy, my boyfriend,” Scott says stiffly, before adding, “as in, romantic partner. We kiss. Each other.”

Her nose wrinkles in disgust. “Are you a gay now, then?”

Scott stares her down. “And if I am?” he challenges. “What are you going to do, kick me out again?”

She stares back for a long moment, a moment during which Scott’s certain she is going to kick them out—then she chuckles, shakes her head.

“You always were a bit sassy,” she says. “I ought to have known, really. But that can be said for a lot of things.”

“Speaking of things that ought to have been known. . . .” Jimmy hints, nudging at Scott. Scott nods, takes a deep breath, and forces out the question that’s been on his mind for so long.

“Did I . . . did you have any children before me?”

Heidi looks away suddenly, toward the TV. Her expression gives away absolutely nothing. “I thought that was Noah,” she says eventually. “His voice was already starting to change when he left.”

“Sorry—Noah?”

She looks back at him. “Your brother. He was fourteen when we noticed he was one of them. You were so young, I’m not surprised you don’t remember.”

Right, because it’s such a normal thing to destroy every trace of your child’s existence and raise the other to believe he never had a sibling.

But that means—

“I’ve seen the two of you on the news,” his mother continues. “Your father, too. He regretted what he did, Scott, after he saw how good your heart was.”

“So he just wanted to send me to conversion therapy instead, huh,” Scott mutters. “And that’s so much better.”

Heidi sighs. “We did what we thought we had to do, for both of you. We always hoped you would repent and come back.”

Scott wants to scream. He wants to scream and yell and freeze the entire house, because that may be the most insensitive thing he’s ever heard and his own mother is supposed to love him unconditionally, not act like this!

His hands are shaking. He doesn’t even notice until Jimmy eases the glass from his grip and rubs his arm. He needs to calm down.

But he can’t bear to look at the woman’s face for a moment longer.

“I think we’ll be going,” Scott says icily, moving to stand. Heidi stands as well, taking their glasses, then pauses on her way back to the kitchen.

“We donated your things,” she says, “but not all of it. Do you want any of what’s left?”

And as much as Scott wants to get out of here, he knows he needs to see whatever it is his mother decided to keep. So, after an encouraging squeeze from Jimmy, Scott follows her into the attic.

There’s only two things in the attic—two small trash bags, leaning against a wall to the side. With a nod from Heidi, Scott opens one of them up.

His monogrammed bible is on top. He has no interest in that. His Boy Scout pins and kerchief are here as well, more stuff he doesn’t care about. His birth certificate, which he does set aside (he already has a copy of it that he’d requested from the government, but it can never hurt to have the original), and a small photo album, which he sets aside as well. At the very bottom of the bag is his plush turtle, scruffy and old.

That he pulls to his chest, burying his nose into it. It smells pretty musty, which makes sense. It probably hasn’t been out of this attic in a decade.

It brings back feelings, looking at it. Not memories, not exactly, but feelings of a simpler time. Feelings from some vague past, where he had no troubles and his only concern was getting to school on time.

And more feelings. Feelings of deception, of hate, of guilt. The feeling of his world being flipped upside down and this plushie not being near enough to anchor it.

He wants to set it with his birth certificate and the photos, but it holds so much of this place that he’s not so sure.

He sets the turtle to the side and looks in the other bag.

Much the same stuff, and at first he inexplicably thinks this is an exact replica for some odd reason—but the name monogrammed onto this bible is not his.

Scott weighs it in his hands for a moment, then sets that aside.

There’s no photo album, but the same boy scout items and a birth certificate. There’s a plushie here too, though, a floppy deer, one of the antlers torn off and the hole it left carefully sewn shut. The fur is wearing thin in places, the beads for eyes have lost their shine.

It’s well-loved, as loved as Scott’s turtle, and for some reason, that makes him want to cry.

He’s not sure what to do with it. He still hasn’t really processed what his mother confirmed downstairs.

This stuffed deer belonged to the sibling he never met.

This stuffed deer belonged to Xornoth.

Can he take it?

Does he want to take it?

He sets it aside next to his turtle. At the bottom of the bag, there’s one last thing—a photograph, bent at the corner.

It’s older than any in the photo album, and Scott knows instantly that the child in the photo isn’t him. It’s a small child with a mop of dark blond hair, maybe three years old, wearing little red overalls and a white sweater, sitting on a push-bike and smiling up at the camera.

He can’t quite force his brain to make the connection. This child, so happy and young, grew up to be Xornoth. This toddler tried to take over the world.

He can process it later, he supposes, and he upends one of the bags to make sure there’s nothing else (there isn’t, so few of what once were his possessions leftover), then stuffs both his turtle and the deer in it, along with his birth certificate. He hikes the bag over his shoulder and picks up the photo of—of the child—and the photo album, before holding both out to his mother.

“Do you want any of these?” he asks brusquely. She takes the loose photo, then waves off the album.

“I’ve kept some of yours downstairs,” she says dismissively. “This is my only picture of Noah, though.”

Scott leaves the attic without another word, photo album chucked into the bag over his shoulder. He meets back up with Jimmy in the living room, who looks up from his phone with a questioning glance.

Scott sets down the bag, pulls out the turtle plushie. “This was mine growing up,” he says. Jimmy’s face immediately softens and he coos, reaching out for it. Scott hands it over, then removes the second stuffed animal.

This one he holds farther from Jimmy, because he’s still not sure if he wants to take it with him, despite the strange sense that he owes it to his lost sibling. “This,” he says carefully, “belonged to Xornoth.”

Jimmy’s face goes carefully neutral, and his hands still. “Oh,” he manages, and Scott can hear the change in his exhales as he immediately kicks into breathing exercises.

“We don’t have to take it if you aren’t okay with that,” Scott is quick to reassure. “We can leave it here, that’s fine. I’m sure my mother would appreciate it.”

“Why—why do you want it?”

That’s harder to answer, because Scott hasn’t figured out why yet. He’ll know when he comes across the answer, he’s certain, but it hasn’t made itself known to him in the five minutes that he’s known of his sibling’s existence.

“I don’t know,” he says eventually. He stares at the deer, at the faded pattern of its coat. “There’s some reason I want it, but I’m not sure what that is, yet.”

A little color has already returned to Jimmy’s face, and he doesn’t stutter when he speaks. “Is it part of your closure?”

He doesn’t know how, but Jimmy’s right. He nods. This is, in some way and fashion, a very important part of making peace with his sibling’s identity in his head.

“Then take it,” says Jimmy, handing back the turtle. He stands, slowly, supporting himself with his cane.

But it’ll hurt you, Scott wants to say. It’s clear that Jimmy doesn’t like the idea of taking this deer plushie home, doesn’t like the idea of it being in their house.

“Don’t worry about me, yeah?” Jimmy says, as if he can hear Scott’s thoughts. He smiles weakly, squeezes Scott’s arm. “I’ll be fine. This is about you.”

They leave with a quick goodbye, no attempts on either side to set up further contact. Scott just throws his things into the backseat with Jimmy’s cane, then drives away.

-

It’s just a week later when Scott drives out of the city to a park.

It’s a quiet park, just some trails and benches through the trees, and Scott stops at one of these trees and digs with the shovel he’d brought from home.

He digs alone, in the quiet shade of the trees, a light breeze rustling through them. And when he’s finished the job, a small pile of dirt beside him, he lays a shoebox containing a small stuffed deer in the little hole he’s dug.

He scrapes the dirt back over it with his shovel, pats it down a bit, and stands there. Just . . . stares.

Then, silently, Scott turns away and heads home.

[starsandhughes]

Penalty Box— Jack’s Tooth: Taylor’s Version

SERIES MASTERLIST

last pic made by @babydollmarauders <3

yourusername

liked by _quinnhughes, trevorzegras, and 13,860 others

yourusername BREAKING NEWS: TAYLOR SWIFT ANNOUNCED SPEAK NOW TAYLOR’S VERSION AT HER CONCERT TONIGHT!

trevy baby, jamie baby, and i were sobbing on the bar floor right next to the pool table (sorry that you lost, babe) and it was the greatest experience of my life

IN OTHER NEWS: jacksonian howdy rowdy hughes is now one step closer to wanting his two front teeth for hanukah! (photo eight is a visual representation of the cash he got from the tooth fairy!) he won the battle (quintin ripping off his braces), but he lost the war (devils vs canes, round two: game one)! taylor’s marketing team wanted really good press for “ours,” so jack took one for the team!

“i love the gap between your teeth” i’m sure someone does!

“and i love the riddles that you speak” i sure do! they’re from his brand new lisp the tooth fairy gave him! (edit: i’ve been told this is too mean and have to publicly announce that his lisp is not that bad) (edit: trevor said i wasn’t mean enough)

to end: jacky boy, my soulmate, so sorry about your loss, but the content i’m seeing on twitter about it is my new will to live. i love you!

ps happy birthday mitch marner!

tagged jackhughes

view all 707 comments

jackhughes i feel as if this wasn’t necessary

yourusername nethethary*

jackhughes sissy

yourusername jacky?

jackhughes i’ll tell quinn you’re bullying me

_quinnhughes @/jackhughes who do you think sent her the pirate meme?

jackhughes BETRAYAL! EVERYWHERE!

yourusername cry

jackhughes i will

yourusername @/lhughes_06 record it^^^

lhughes_06 i gotchu, sissy🫡

jackhughes I’M TRYING TO FIND A PLACE IN THIS WORLD

trevorzegras @/jackhughes wrong album

user46 this is both the best and worst day of my life😭 but at least the devils didn’t lose 5-1?

yourusername too soon (it is not that was hilarious)

_quinnhughes looking good, rowdy!

yourusername so cowboy of him

jackhughes @_alexturcotte you still love me, right?

_alexturcotte @/jackhughes thure, babe

yourusername AHAHAHAHA @_alexturcotte i’m in love with you

trevorzegras @/yourusername i’m right here, babe

yourusername @/trevorzegras okay so close your eyes? we’re having a moment here

_alexturcotte @/trevorzegras perv

_quinnhughes @/trevorzegras perv

user2 NOT THE TWEET OF SOMEONE CALLING THE SNTV RELEASE WITH A TREVOR PIC😭

trevorzegras okay i did not lose at pool!

jamie.drysdale you didn’t win either

yourusername you lost, babe. just like jacky boy lost his tooth.

trevorzegras @/yourusername you bumped into the pool table!

jamie.drysdale @/trevorzegras you two are attached at this hip how sure can you be that it was her?

jackhughes FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!

yourusername @/trevorzegras YOU’RE LOSING FOCUS, SON! THIS IS ABOUT JACKY BOY!

trevorzegas we’re engaged! i want an emancipation!

jamie.drysdale @/yourusername i’m cool if you’re cool

yourusername @/jamie.drysdale @/trevorzegras consider our family tree burned

user99 i still love you jack!

lhughes_06 goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, you were bigger than the whole sky

trevorzegras still the wrong album? do you hughes boys know nothing?

yourusername @/trevorzegras you already know that answer

lhughes_06 @_quinnhughes

_quinnhughes @/yourusername sissy, my favorite girl, best friend contract

yourusername @/trevorzegras jacky boy and lukey moosey know nothing! quinn has all three brain cells!

lhughes_06 @_quinnhughes that was not helpful

jackhughes not it was not

_quinnhughes @/lhughes_06 @/jackhughes what she said wasn’t much better

user33 jack wanted to twin with his bestie merc so bad

user81 jack losing a tooth wasn’t on my 2023 bingo card

colecaufield “something’s gone terribly wrong; you’re all i wanted” -jack (about his tooth)

yourusername @/trevorzegras look what best friend number two said!

trevorzegras i knew i could count on you to use the right album! atta boy!

jackhughes @/colecaufield you’re not invited to my birthday party

yourusername @/colecaufield yes, you are

colecaufield @/jackhughes sorry, bud. what sissy says goes

trevorzegras @/yourusername he gets to call you sissy?! i got smacked in high school!

yourusername @/trevorzegras he gets a once per month pass

jackhughes😠

yourusername @/jackhughes 😭*

user7 quinn might be the number one trevor hater, but y/n is the number one jack hater

dylanduke25 taylor said “drop everything now” so jack dropped his tooth

yourusername THIS ONE WINS

lhughes_06 his tooth won’t be meeting him in the pouring rain

jackhughes @/dylanduke25 you aren’t my child, but i will ground you. @/lhughes_06 you’re grounded.

yourusername @/dylanduke25 @/lhughes_06 mother knows best! you’re not grounded!

lhughes_06 @/jackhughes thuck it

user56 let’s play “who’s y/n’s least favorite hughes” again!

yourusername it’s still quinn??

_quinnhughes added this to their story

lhughes_06 added this to their story

_alexturcotte added this to their story

[moony-ghoul]

eds havers rain and ant

i remember i wrote a small something about this a while ago about rain trying to show ant ways of doing things and different aids so they aren’t hurting themself constantly and ant being really stubborn about it so rain goes to zeph all like “idk why they’re not understanding i’m trying to help them” and zephs like “bro you were the exact same if not worse”

but yes i absolutely agree eds havers rain and ant

rains biggest pain points are his fingers and hips it’s why he prefers bass over guitar despite being able to play both bass is bigger therefore less fiddley to play. he wears ring splints almost 24/7 when not playing they’re gold and make his elegant hands look extra pretty. he also uses a cane when not on stage on extra bad days he’ll use a walker or a wheelchair. dew is his personal heat pack and is always happy to use the excuse of being a heat compress to cuddle

ants biggest pain points are their wrists shoulders and knees. they definitely use their hyper mobility and stretchy skin as a party trick and then deal w the consequences later, they’re always getting scolded after showing off on stage. swiss is their kt taper cause he’s a master after taping his chest for so many years and then having to tape his shoulder after his bad fall on stage. they do have wrist and knee braces for more day to day but they get too itchy too quick so they prefer tape. they’ll also use forearm crutches when their knees are extra bad, it took a lot of time before they were ready to start using them but rain helped decorate them so ant felt more confident using them

[transboysokka]

Yes, hello, hi! I would love to see any of the dialogue you want to share from your Love Lives in Injuries and Those Who Know Them.

Sure! For context this was supposed to kind of tie together this post about Sokka and disability and these posts (and a ton more like it) about the issues and trauma he's always dealt with and how he would be after the war. We see a lot (including from me) about Sokka helping Zuko through some stuff after the war, but it's time to flip the tables

So this was meant to be Sokka learning how to be vulnerable and accept help from others and we would have seen some cute scenes of Zuko taking care of him on his bad days, like using his firebending to heat Sokka's leg, omg

That's the vision I had from the title, which by the way comes from this post I saw the other day by @zukkaart

anyway im rambling again. i didnt get to a LOT of the cute stuff before this got too long and out of hand and begged to be abandoned but here are three of my favorite dialogue scenes I'd written

between sokka and katara:

“Sokka, why didn’t you tell me sooner?” “Can you honestly tell me if you would have been able to fix it?” “...Maybe not. I’m sorry…” “Don’t be sorry.” “I’m still mad at you for not involving me in this for almost a decade. You’re very lucky you weren’t nearby when I first got Zuko’s letter.” “I know, but–” “Sokka, what have we been working on? We’re both adults. You don’t need to protect me anymore. The war is over. You can ask for help. Zuko was right there for you this whole time and–” “Old habits die hard, I guess…” “Sokka–” “How are the kids?” “...They’re fine... Kya’s coming along really well with her bending. Does that hurt?” “Always.” “Has the brace been helping at all?” “I thought the new one I made would help more, and I know it is helping but I still…” “And your other knee and hips?” “Yeah, it’s definitely starting to spread.” “Well, not spreading technically, but the way you’ve learned to walk around the injury is starting to permanently affect your other joints…” “Uh huh. So what happens now?” “I’m gonna give it to you straight. If you keep on working as hard as you do, that’s all going to get worse. I’m surprised you aren’t feeling it more in your back yet.” “Spirits, I’m so tired of–” “Listen first, okay? I’m sorry you’re dealing with this. I think we both know how lucky you are after falling from that airship. I’m glad it’s taken this long for it to catch up to you.” “But?” “But… It’s only going to keep getting worse– Let me finish! You need to hear this. You need to make some changes. If you keep training as hard as you are and pushing yourself so much, it’s going to get worse faster.” “You can’t ask me to stop training, Katara. You know how much it means to me. I need to–” “Sokka. I know how you feel. But you don’t need to work so hard to protect us anymore, okay? Zuko can take care of himself, and he has Suki and all of his guards. Aang and I have been on our own for years now. The war is over. Let us take care of you for a change.” “You know I can’t–” “I’m not asking you to just sit around the palace. You just need to change up your schedule and routine, can you do that for me? Healer Sano can help organize some new exercises for you.” “Fine. I get it.” “You need to start taking more advantage of your downtime. Sit when you can. Stay inside and rest at least one day a week. I should recommend more, but I know you…” “I get it, Katara. I do. Thank you.” “There’s one more thing. You’re not going to like it.” “...What.” “You need to start using a cane.” “...” “Sokka?” “Katara. I’m not even thirty-five years old.” “I know, and like I said, it’s amazing you’ve made it so long without needing it. There’s no shame in–” “I’m too young to need that.” “Sokka. We both know you can barely walk across the palace anymore without needing to sit down. This will help you.” “I can’t– I don’t want–” “Sokka. Look at me. This has been coming for a long time and I know you’ve been ignoring it, but it’s time to accept that there are just some things you can’t do anymore and that you need help to do the things you still can.” “I–” “It’s important to have these feelings. Don’t feel bad for them. You need to work through the anger and shame and whatever else you’re feeling. You can talk to me or you can talk to Zuko, and I know it’s hard for you to talk through anything, but it’s important that you do talk to someone so you can work past this. Don’t bottle it up again.”

and after between sokka and zuko

“How did it go with Katara?” “Didn’t she tell you?” “Only a little. How are you feeling?” “Fine.” “Should I ask you again?” “I’m… okay.” “Can I ask why you aren’t using the cane?” “I… have complicated feelings about it.” “Can I help you try to work through them?” “I… okay.” “So do you think it would help your overall pain?” “Yeah.” “And do you think it could help keep the rest of your complications at bay a little bit longer?” “I guess so, yeah.” “But you still feel… weird about it?” “Mm-hmm.” “Okay. Do you think people will… judge you for using a cane?” “No, not at all. It’s… not about how I would be perceived. I don’t think.” “But…?” “I… I don’t know. I feel like I’m giving in. Like I’m admitting to myself that I have this weakness.” “Hm.” “The logical part of my brain knows that’s not true, that it’s not a weakness, that actually the cane would help the weakness, but it still feels like I’m giving up!” “...” “I can’t explain it. I feel like I’m finally being forced to acknowledge that there are things I can’t do anymore and that terrifies me.” “Why?” “I… I need to…” “...” “I need to be able to protect you.” “Babe… I understand that this would be hard for you with everything you’ve been working through since the war. I respect that and I wish you could be dealing with anything else right now. But you know you don’t need to protect me, right?” “If there were another assassination attempt and I couldn’t get to you–” “Baby, there hasn’t been an assassination attempt in years. You saved my life countless times and I’m grateful, but we’re in a time of peace now and you’ll never need to do that again. Besides, there are dozens of guards around at all times.” “I know…” “And more importantly. If there were another attempt and you weren’t able to get to me in time because of your injury, would it be the cane’s fault?” “No! And that’s what I hate! That my own body has betrayed me to the point that I’m not even able to do what I’ve always been good at.” “Sokka. The war is over. I know this whole ordeal has brought back a lot of that stuff for you, but it’s been over for a long time.” “Yeah.” “And you’re good at a lot of things that aren’t affected at all. Does your leg have anything to do with your ability to work on any of your inventions?” “You’re right.” “I’m here for you, babe. Agni knows you’ve been here for me more times than I can count. I know you’re going to be angry about this and I know it’s something you’re going to have to keep adjusting to, but I’m here to go through it all with you.” “I love you so much.” “I’m here for your good days and your bad days. Don’t be afraid to ask me for anything. If I need to cancel a meeting to sit in bed with you, I’ll do it. If you’re too tired to walk back from dinner, I’ll carry you. Anything. There’s no shame in letting others take care of you. You’re safe here.” “I believe you. Thank you”

and later, because it's just so visceral...

“Babe, why is your cane in the turtle duck pond?” “Oh, is that where it ended up?” “Sokka. What’s going on?” “...Having a bad day.” “Yeah, I gathered.” “It’s so beautiful out. And the first thought I had when I woke up was that I wanted to take you for a picnic up the volcano.” “But you weren’t feeling up to it.” “I hate this shit sometimes.” “I know, babe. It really gets to you at times like this. But we can still have a picnic closer to home. The gardens are fine.” “Yeah, okay.”

[queenoffishingandcookies]

I hate back pain. I hate chronic pain in general. It sucks.

As far as I’m aware, in my case it’s mostly due to curvature of the spine rather than any injury I might have gotten, so I don’t think it’s too severe but just -

It’s not a slicing pain, but a sort of itch. A little network of angry sparks of electricity stretching out from my spine, like it’s watercolor paint left to spread out over a black canvas.

It’s worse when I have a cold or something. It’s like it’s a living fire in my nerves, except it’s closer to electrical ice water. It’s cold, and makes me want to hunch over.

My pain doesn’t flare up badly too often, usually it’s just a sore ache that can be ignored, and other times it’s like you can’t straighten up because bolts of pain shoot up the spine to the nape of your deck and not quite down to you hips, keeping you hunched over.

Sometimes it’s my hips, too. Not often, but every once in a blue moon, it’s a bone deep ache. That ache when you get a vaccine shot or something? Like that. Usually is gone by the end of the day, but just…it really sucks.

My mother has a walker because her own issues, and sometimes, I look at that and think, completely seriously, wow, I might like to use that one of these days. Not because I struggle to walk or because I can’t stand up straight (though sometimes that is the case), but because it’s support in case my pain does flare up and kind of feels like it helps with the pain?

Why am I rambling about chronic pain at like…3 in the morning? Good question to ask, and the answer is:

Noctis.

Not even with his magic, but with the pain of the aftermath of the Marilith attack on top of that.

One good fic I read about Noctis with chronic pain is Threshold by Saber_Wing on AO3.

Just…Noctis with a knee brace, or a cane, or even a walker, for when his chronic pain acts up, when bad joints get swollen or painful.

Noctis with heating pads or hot water bottles (hot water bottles are a blessing in my household).

Noctis doing exercises to combat the pain, stretches and massages, depending on how bad the pain is and how his body can handle it - dance would be a good way to deal with pain, and canonically he is good at gymnastics when in combat (but obviously, not if you’re already dealing with bad pain, don’t do that-) And sometimes struggling with his leg, with his back - then the other Chocobros helping him???

It gives me feelings.

Am I projecting? Absolutely, though considering Noctis got whacked with at least one of the Marilith’s swords in canon, and has magic that’s literally eating him alive as he uses it, his pain is probably a hundred times worse than my own.

[jklovesfandoms]

HAHA JOKES ON YOU!!

More Saint Cassian Dating Choir!!!

-After the accident, Ricky is no longer the only one using mobility aids, in fact, Mischa is the only one of the choir who doesn't use a mobility aid outside of the first hospital visit immediately after the accident (and when he did, it was a hospital mandated wheelchair, that his nurses said was a precautionary).

Noel immediately after the accident has to use under-arm crutches for a month, and now uses a cane on occasion, simply due to leftover pain that strikes back sometimes.

Constance has to use a wheelchair for a month and a half after the accident, and now uses a forearm crutch on her right side most of the time, since her leg is still very weak on that side.

Jane also used a wheelchair, but for about 2 months after the accident. She still uses leg braces pretty much every day, due to the accident severely injuring them. She also uses a cane, or a pair of under-arm crutches on her bad days, but she's happy with how she's healing.

Ocean however, is a different story. Her parents got her out of the hospital as soon as she was no longer relying on machines to keep her safe/alive. And because of that, she really didn't get her problems recognized or solved. As soon as she joins the polycule, she feels more comfortable dropping her mask of being perfectly fine. The choir notices that when they hang out or go on dates, she is nowhere near as energetic or willing to move as she is in school. They don't fully realize that anything is hurting her, until she comes in slightly late, teary eyed, coughing, and stumbling, to a group date in Ricky's movie room over spring break. After trying and failing to convince Noel and her partners that she was perfectly fine, Ricky finally gets it out of her. It hurts her hips and ankles to move, and she recently started feeling constantly out of breath and light-headed. After she admits that, date night changes to "get our redhead medical help" night, and they take her to the hospital. Where it is realized that after the accident, Ocean had torn several ligaments and tendons in her left ankle that had healed completely wrong. She also was experiencing bursitis of the hip joint, and had pneumonia. Due to that, she was given antibiotics for the pneumonia and an anti-inflammatory for the bursitis. She was also given an ankle support brace. Later on, as she realized that it didn't help the pain go away, she started using a cane or forearm crutch on her left side!

-

They are gay, traumatized, and disabled, your honor. And I love them <33

[rainstormraven]

Dear Diary

Maybe running was a bad idea

On any usual occasion Sirius would have beaten both Remus and Peter. He was more physically fit due to Quidditch not to mention he had a head start. However, this was not a usual occasion. Halfway to the classroom Remus' hip locked up. Pain and tense muscles were not a rare occurrence for Remus. What was rare was the total lack of mobility that came with this particular pain. One moment he was running nearly catching up to Sirius and the next was on the ground. He wasn't quite sure how it had happened. Sirius was at his side in an instant.

"Moony what happened? Are you okay?" 

Peter had stopped as well. He was clearly anxious, though Remus wasn't sure if it was because he was hurt, they were going to be late, or a mixture of both.

"You guys go on ahead. I'll be okay. We don't need all of us being late to class now do we?"

Sirius shook his head, "No we're staying. 'All for one and one for all' and all that."

Remus rolled his eyes, "Really. I'm fine."

Sirius plopped on the ground next to Remus crossing his arms.

"Fine if you must," Remus shook his head secretly pleased, then turned to Peter, "you can go to class Pete. I'm fine. Really."

"Okay," Peter briefly looked at Sirius, who rolled his eyes, "Sirius?"

"Go on Wormy. I can take care of Mr Stubborn myself."

"Thank you!" Peter shot Remus one more concerned look then started sprinting down the hall again. Once they could no longer see Peter Sirius stood up.

"What happened?"

"I'm fine."

"Yeah I know. You told me that already. Now the truth." Sirius was staring at Remus like his health was the most important thing in the world. He could feel butterflies forming in his stomach and the rouging in his cheeks once again.

"I… um…" he couldn't concentrate on articulating a sentence, "My hip locked up. It hurts to move it out of this position." Remus gestured to his right leg.

"Is there anything I can do?" Sirius was beginning to look as anxious as Peter. The worry lines marred his face but somehow made him even more beautiful. "Rem?"

Remus snapped back to reality. He was late for class and he couldn't move. He really hated his lycanthropy. It wouldn't be so bad if he only had to think about it on full moons but there were constant reminders. The scars that marked his whole body, the chronic pain, and the sudden uncontrollable bursts of anger (although Remus worried that maybe those weren't due to the lycanthropy but more of a problem with him). 

"I just need to stretch out," he said finally.

"Okay, how do I help?"

"I don't need help stretching," Remus knew this wasn't strictly true.  Poppy had taught him a few that felt a million times better with help but he had never had anyone but her help him. He was embarrassed enough as it was.

"Okay. I'll be right here if you need me."

It didn't take Remus as long as he thought to feel well enough to walk. He noticed a slight limp as he took his first few steps. If this kept up he was going to need a cane before he was twenty but that was a thought for another day. Right now he needed to focus on getting to class. He was definitely late. Not looking forward to another detention Remus pushed all thoughts of canes from his head. 

Sirius was staring at him again out of, concern? Remus couldn't be sure but it's what made the most sense to him. Why else would he be staring?

"I'm not going to fall again."

"I didn't think you were."

"Then why? Nevermind, let's get to class."

Remus wanted to run to class but Sirius had forbidden it upon Remus' first stumbling. He had tried to protest it but given up relatively quickly when Sirius wrapped his hand around his waist to brace him.

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Festive Fuelstop

Pairing: Mando x Reader

Warnings: None.

Summary: You, Mando and the Child end up in a small town and get pulled into their traditions.

A/n: Happy Holidays, my loves!

You walked out of the Crest and took a breath of fresh air after a week of being trapped inside the flying metal. Despite having to make an emergency landing, you were thankful that the fuel line had started leaking just to stretch your legs. You and Mando had landed on the outskirts of a charming village where the mechanic actually refused the credits that the Mandalorian offered to repair his ship.

“Oh, golly. I can’t take payment now - I haven’t made any repairs.” The man chuckled heartily and whistled for his best workers to get on the job. The repairman then focused back on the new arrivals. “Why don’t you hold on to those credits and take your family down to the markets in the meantime?”

Mando appeared to have frozen so you leaned forward and pulled his hand back, flashing a smile to the kind man.

“The markets sound wonderful - could you point us in the right direction?”

You were given instruction to follow the wooden path down the hill until you reached a clearing into the central part of town which you, Mando and the Child followed.

When you reached the bottom, the townsfolk were in a buzz carrying boxes of shiny strings and coloured balls from one part of town to the next. Homes were decorated with lights strewn across the fences and roofs, some even had a green wreaths on the front door. Adults met up with one another with a grin as they walked in the same direction while children chased each other in tow.

You and Mando exchanged curious glances. This wasn’t something either of you had come across and your confused expression caught the attention of a passerby. The man stopped before the two of you and pointed.

“Visitors?” He guessed with a smile on his face that highlighted a hidden dimple.

You returned the smile and Mando nodded, “Our ship is being repaired uphill.”

“Well then it’s in safe hands. Please, feel free to join us in the Square while you wait.” The man invited and then walked away in the same direction as everyone else. It seemed like the whole town was headed that way.

Folding your arms, you turned to the bounty hunter, “Is it bad that I want to know what’s happening in the Square?”

“We have to keep moving.” Mando reminded as he looked around the buildings. “Maybe find a diner of some sort.”

You watched as more of the townsfolk left their homes and bit your lower lip as you thought - then you heard the child croon and idea came to mind.

“If everyone’s in the same place then none of their lodgings, food or otherwise, will be open. We’ll have a better chance to blend in alongside everyone else while seeing what has everyone so excited.” You said. “And the kid might never experience this again.”

The Mandalorian cocked his head to the side when he heard you.

“Are those reasons for the kid or for you?”

You shot him a side-eye and shook your head. Without hearing his argument against the plan, you followed the crowd and - in a few minutes - his beskar arm braces were bumping beside you.

It was a short walk to the heart of the town where a large green tree gleaming with lights and decoration sat in the middle. Your jaw dropped, eyes mesmerised with the sight that you almost knocked into the woman in front of you had it not been for Mando pulling you back. As the last few people joined, you realised that it was getting too close-for-comfort for the child so you moved to a more open space a little further from the festivities.

You returned to staring in awe at the magnificence of the tree and couldn’t help but smile, “What are they celebrating?” You wondered just as a little boy zoomed past with his friends, hearing your question. He stopped before you and Mando and placed his hands on his hips.

“You must be travellers! Tonight begins the First Ice of Holly Day. We gather around the tree just before the snow begins to fall - which should be starting soon!” The young boy explained and then ran off leaving the baby to lean over his cradle and coo.

Soon? You looked up to the skies and noticed that they had now been filled with frosty grey clouds. The sun began to fade away which illuminated the lights around the entire town making everything glow. As it darkened just a touch more excitable voices began talking quickly, most of it inaudible. You were so caught up in the moment that you hadn’t realised Mando tensing up beside you until you turned to him. He looked like he was ready to be jumped. You opened you mouth to chide him when there was a joyful cry from the far side of the tree.

“Look - look! It’s snowing! Holly Day has begun!”

You , Mando and the Child looked up once more and, sure enough, small snowflakes descended upon the happy town. A chilled breeze set in and you remembered that you weren’t properly clothed from when you exited the ship a while ago. You were about to suggest finding some coats when Mando turned his head toward the clearing.

“We should head back. I don’t want to be caught in a snow storm at the base of a hill.” He told you. You glanced at the baby trying to catch the snow in his mouth and sighed. Mando was right.

You shivered slightly, dusting the snow from your shoulders. “Point made. But before we head back, I need to stop at a vegetable stall.”

“Why?”

You pursed your lips and squinted at the green womp rat in the cradle, “Because somebody keeps ‘force-flinging’ the celonslay into the refresher.” you leaned down to the baby and used the tip of your index finger to lightly press on his button nose. “Vegetables are what’s going to make you big and strong.”

You straightened back up and noticed the crowd the beginning to disperse as you looked around them to find some place that sold healthy greens.

Mando pointed over your shoulder quietly and you followed his hand to where a row of merchants stood with their goods just past the tree. You thanked him and requested that he and child stay put until you returned. The bounty hunter didn’t argue and so you ventured off to the markets. As you passed the tree you smiled once more at its beauty. A part of you wondered if Mando would oppose to having a small one in the ship. But then you thought better of it because if Mando didn’t oppose then the kid might tear it apart or worse, jam it into the refresher.

You passed the first stall which happened to be filled with florals and ‘Holly Berry Seed Pots’ and over to the second one where rows and rows of fruits and vegetables sat. Scanning the items, you spotted the celonslay and decided against purchasing it again. The Child clearly didn’t like it. As you browsed, a head popped up from behind the stall - it belonged to the man you first met upon reaching the town.

“It’s you.” You realised.

He chuckled and quirked a brow. “Twice in one day? I’m beginning to think that you’re following me.” He teased lightly and tapped his hands on the wooden counter top. “I’m glad you decided to come to the Square.”

The man inquired about how you felt about experiencing the First Ice and you told him the truth of how you adored the way it was celebrated. You both then returned to the task at hand and you asked for his suggestion on a vegetable that a baby would enjoy.

“Children are tricky to pick for.” The Merchant hummed as he looked over the available selection. “But I do have some gimer canes. If the kid is teething, he can chew on this to get important nutrients with a sweet taste. He might even do a happy dance.”

Your eyes lit up along with your smile, “That’s perfect, I’ll take four.”

“Gimer canes are fairly rare so...”

“I’ll pay you double.” You offered instantly, not bothering to discuss it with the Mandalorian.

You expected the Merchant to take the credits right away but he laughed admirably at you. “I was actually hoping that you’d come with me to the Holly Seed Planting tomorrow instead.”

As much as you wanted to stay, you and Mando were due to leave the planet in under an hour. Your shoulders visibly slackened and the Merchant seemed to have understood. He reached beneath the counter and lifted up a paper bag, handing it over to you.

“Here, consider it an early Holly Day gift.”

Slightly confused, you looked inside and saw four pieces of the rare cane. You didn’t know how to express thanks besides repeating the word in the hopes that it would be enough.

“It’s okay, really.” The Merchant said softly. “Times are strange, we may meet again.”

You flashed a smile and thanked him once more before turning to leave.

You returned to the Child and the Mandalorian shortly after and noticed the mechanic of your ship walking away from the beskar-plated man with a spring in his step and humming a tune.

“Was that...?”

“It was.” Mando sighed. “Apparently, the repairs won’t be ready until tomorrow afternoon because the mechanic doesn’t want to miss out on the ‘festivities’.”

You couldn’t really blame the creature for halting work and you looked over at the hill pathway that led to the ship. “Old fashioned camp out in the broken cargo hold?” You suggested.

“It’s getting dark and you’re exhausted. We’ll stay in town until the repairs are complete.”

This meant that you could repay the Merchant in full.

“Why are you smiling?”

You wiped the escaped emotion from your face and cleared your throat. Balancing the bag against your hip, you looked around the well-lit town, deflecting the question, “I’m sure that there’s a good lodging around here.”

And you were right, a short walk down the road landed the three of you at a comfortable inn for travellers. But as luck would have it, finding a decent sized room in the towns busiest time proved to be difficult and so, you, Mando and cradled baby were placed in a smaller, single bed compartment with extra blankets to compensate. While it was quaint, a part of you wished that you were back on the Razor Crest.

As Mando settled into the temporary sleeping quarters by checking the perimeters, you helped the kid out of his cot and onto the soft mattress. This hadn’t been the first time that there was only one bed between three individuals so you and Mando decided to take one side each to make sure that you were both well rested. And, to be involved, the Child would walk across the surface before sitting on the side that he wanted Mando to be. 

The kid cooed and then smacked his lips which reminded you that he had not been fed the since lunch. You walked over to the table by the door and dug into the paper bag retrieving a stick of the gimer cane before carefully handing it to the baby to taste.

Mando joined your side as the pair of watched the child chew on the cane with a happy squeal.

“He likes it.” Mando noted, relatively surprised. Your mouth hung open as you watched the green womp rat do a little seated ‘happy dance’.

The Merchant was right.

Speaking of the man, you remembered to tell the bounty hunter of your plans the next day, explaining - once again - that it would be a good way for the kid to learn and enjoy other customs. His sigh told you that he wasn’t thrilled but, ultimately, he resigned. “Fine but we’re leaving the moment the Crest is fixed.”

You tried to contain your smile but it slipped out which led to the Mandalorian shaking his head and heading for the bed to get some decent rest. He picked up the child and moved him to the centre before laying down on the sheets. As you watched the baby find a comfortable sleeping position against his chosen-father, you realised that you were fairly exhausted from the day. You took up the blankets that the lodging provided and laid along the empty bed space, covering yourself and the kid just before falling asleep to the burning candlelight.

When you woke to birdsong, you found that the child had switched sleeping allegiances and was now snuggled in your arms. Mando stepped out of the refresher and helped you to get ready for the day by removing the womp rat from your hold which led the child waking up with a small wail until Mando pacified him with a gimer cane.

Once all affairs were in order, you paid the lodging owner in full and left for the Merchant’s stall where the man had just farewelled a customer.

“Can I have four more gimer canes?” You wondered and the moment the Merchant saw you, he abandoned his job, rushing to the front with a smile.

“You- you’re still here.”

Nodding, you gestured to where Mando stood with the child, “Our repairs will be done this afternoon which means we can go to the Holly Seed Planting.”

The Merchant nodded and boldly took your hands when he spoke. “The Planting is in a few hours but there are things we can do before that!” He looked over your shoulder to Mando, “Tell me, friend. Have you ever gone sledding through fields of freshly lain snow under trees of light?”

Mando stared back through his visor, “Only to capture my bounty.”

The Merchant didn’t know what to make of the statement and you chuckled to lighten the air, “Sledding sounds wonderful!”

And that’s what you did. The Merchant took the three of you to a sledding field and you almost forgot about your mission to find the child’s people. Mando took the green womp rat for a ride after caving to his pleading coos while you rode with the Merchant. 

Once the snow-filled fun had run its course, you all ventured back into town for a hot meal at the local cantina and a short rest before learning that enough time had passed for the Holly Seed Planting. You and Mando followed the Merchant over to the large tree where, at its base, several plots were dug in long rows along the white frost.

“What’s so special about this event?” You asked as curiosity enveloped when you noticed people gathering in pairs.

The Merchant took your hand and pointed across, “Holly Seeds are special, they bloom fast with emotion and identical where love is pure. It’s a rare sight to see but it doesn’t make it any less fun to plant.”

“What happens to these seeds after?”

“We nurture them through the year, their roots and leaves merge until they form the Town’s next tree for Holly Day.”

If you had left the day before, you never would have learnt about something so amazing.

“Oh - I think it’s starting. Let’s go get a seed.” The Merchant told you excitably.

Mando made no effort to move quickly, instead he held onto the child and stepped back. “I think the kid and I will wait this one out.”

A part of you wished he wouldn’t remove himself but once the Mandalorian made up his mind, he often stuck to it. You focused on the Merchant once more, painting the snow with your footprints until you both collected a Holly Seed Pot each and kneeled by two empty plots.

“Okay,” The Merchant said, nestling a little closer, “so all we need to do is hold these next to each other and if everything is right, they’ll bloom.”

You held out your pot until it clinked against the Merchant’s. Almost instantly, a bud peered through the Merchant’s soil and it quickly grew into a stem ... then leaves sprang forth ... and finally, a white-petaled flower emerged, tilting forward like a bell.

You looked down at the pot in your hands and there was nothing - not even a hint of green.

You gave a dry chuckle to hide the way your heart sank, “I can’t imagine it’s good news if nothing happens, right?”

The Merchant shook his head to not worry you but you could see in his eyes that this came as a surprise to him too. Clearing your throat, you flashed him a smile and looked around the place where bursts of colourful flowers came to life. “So, what happens next?”

“Usually, we walk around and see if there are identical flowers before we plant them into the ground but...”

You noticed his eyes flicker to the various pots, clearly trying to spot his match, and placed an gentle hand over his shoulder.

“Go ahead, it’s okay.” You told him as he once told you. The Merchant hesitated briefly until you repeated yourself.

You got to your feet as he thanked you and then you watched him walk through the crowd. Glancing at your sad-looking pot, you remembered something and looked up to find your travel associates.

No green or beskar could be seen. You did, however, see the mechanic once again. He had just arrived and was talking to a friend about how he had just finished a job.

The Razor Crest must have been ready. You intended to give a farewell to the Merchant but when you saw him standing by a young woman with an identical white flower, you decided against it.

Let him have this moment. Taking the plant, you decided to blend out of the crowd and back to somewhere familiar.

—

The Merchant was kind but Mando felt his dislike for the local grow every time you were present. He blamed the whimsical nature of the town but Mando felt something envious surge in him whenever you talked about the Merchant with a smile. Then he had to spend the day watching the pair of you laugh and joke and... hold hands - Mando seriously feared that you may have been falling in love. When the Seed Planting came around, he tried to ignore the way you and the Merchant had grown fond of one other so he stood to the back of the crowd. He was blending in quite well until a sweet old lady spotted him and the child and handed him a Holly Seed Pot of his own. He tried to give it back but the woman ignored him and moved on. The Child cooed and Mando turned to see you kneeling by the snow and holding your pot against that of the Merchants.

He heard the baby croon and attempt to speak.

“I know buddy...”

The child started tapping his hands over Mando’s gloves and pulled his attention from the Jedi over to the pot in his hands.

A red flower had sprouted almost instantly while was distracted. The edges of the petals ran gold like ink.

His mind flew to what the Merchant had said about quick blooming flowers and the Mandalorian felt his heart race.

‘Fast with emotion.’ He had said.

Turning around, Mando made a quick getaway just as the townsfolk gathered to ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’ around the flowers. Thinking fast, he decided to head back to the ship, almost bursting into a sprint. The child had fallen asleep during the trip so when Mando finally got to the Crest, he laid the infant down before getting to work. He took the pot plant over to the carbonite chamber and shut it inside with a hiss.

—

The walk uphill was long and exhausting. There were multiple times when you considered throwing the pot behind you but something always made you rethink and forget the option. When you finally reached the Crest, you spotted Mando fiddling by the carbonite chamber and the kid asleep in his cradle. You dumped the pot on the side bench and headed past the Mandalorian for the cockpit.

“I’m ready to get out of here.” You said, climbing up the ladder. Without missing a beat, you sat in the pilots seat and prepared for take off, closing the doors of the cargo bay. You were a fast flyer so you had the ship up in lightspeed in no time only dropping out when you were several systems away. As you prepped the ship for autopilot, you heard the familiar armour behind you.

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out.” He said gently. “The Jedi Order and the Mandalorian Way don’t give much room for romance.”

You leaned forward and flicked on two switches. A disappointed sigh escaping over the console. “I know. Sometimes, I hope for a sign that will lead me down a different path - one where I don’t walk alone. But it’s always a fools hope.”

The Crest’s engine sputtered, shaking loose a pipe above your head which made you frown when it bumped your head. “Dank farrik.” You muttered. “Can you get me something to fix this?”

The beskar helmet nodded and Mando turned down the narrow corridor. He went down the stairs to grab a wrench from his tools cabinet when a flicker of gold caught his attention.

Sitting on the bench was your Holly Seed Pot, a green stem had rose from the mud, blooming a red Holly Flower with gold trimming - just like his.

Masterlist here

[klbwriting]

Unexpected Allies - Chapter 4

Fandom: Six of Crows/Shadow and Bone

Pairing: eventually will be Kaz/female!Reader, and that is really starting to happen

Warnings: I mean, Kaz Brekker is involved, someone is getting maimed

Summary:  The journey to town doesn't go as planned

Notes:  I’m trying my best to respect Kaz’s touch aversion while also working him into accepting someone, its a fine line to walk so I hope I’m doing alright, also Kaz can be soft in private we’re learning

They had spent the evening planning their next day, what supplies they needed, who would get what, and how they would get out of the town. Y/N knew trusting Jesper with anything extreme was a bad idea so she told him that his only job was to find them warm clothes for the trip, giving him just enough money to get them. Kaz was going to gather the food and water canteens while Y/N was getting the camping supplies. She had gotten the tents and blankets, lugging the bags with her through the town when she noticed that the Grisha presence in the town was increasing as the day went on. This was concerning. She walked the perimeter of the town monitoring where the Grisha were gathering and frowned. Damn, the only road north had Grisha guards checking every traveler who walked or rode out. She went to the woods around the town, her dismay growing. Grisha were everywhere. She headed to the meeting point near the stables, finding Kaz and Jesper already there. She waited out of sight, listening as Kaz reamed Jesper.

"You gambled the money and didn't get the clothes? Is that what you're telling me?" Kaz said, voice low, dangerous. She could see Jesper from her place, fidgeting, eyes looking anywhere but at Kaz.

"I won some, but then I lost it," he said. "Its alright, you have any money left? I'll go and win it all back, get us some nice warm coats." Kaz let out an annoyed grunt.

"No, I thought and bought some clothes on top of the food. Now, the other important thing, when we get our crew back, how are we getting out of that resistance?" he asked. Y/N thought this might happen. She knew he wasn't just going to join up out of desire to help others. Kaz Brekker didn't care about anyone but himself, she knew that really, dark eyes and a jawline that could cut glass had blinded her for a minute and now she felt foolish for mooning over him last night. She took a deep breath, making sure to calm her demeanor. No reason to let herself be blinded again, she had convinced the Darkling she loved him, should be easy to convince herself that she didn't have feelings for Kaz. After collecting herself she stepped into full view, making them halt their conversation.

"We have a problem," she said, approaching and handing off the bags she had bought for each of them. She explained about the Grisha presence as they stashed their supplies. "They are in the woods even, probably looking for you two, possibly me, I can't imagine the body is convincing them I'm dead anymore." Kaz pursed his lips and she used that moment to steel herself because the last thing she needed was to think about his lips. Not that he would allow them near her in the first place, she didn't need the visual in her mind. She turned and used the moment to check their surroundings. It was getting dark now and she knew soon the Grisha would establish some type of curfew.

"At the gambling hall I was at they had rooms to rent, we could stay there for the night, they were cheap? The place had a no Grisha policy and it was loud so I doubt anyone would notice us," Jesper offered. Y/N smiled and put a friendly arm around his shoulder.

"You're a genius Jes, pure genius," she said, motioning for him to lead the way. She didn't notice the look on Kaz's face, but Jesper had, and now he was a little afraid of sleeping in the same room as his boss.

 Kaz had instantly figured out that Y/N had heard the conversation he and Jesper were having at the stables, the icy look she gave him when she came out of hiding was enough for him to know that her infatuation with him might be over. He should have been overjoyed by that, it would save him trouble in the future, but he found that he was irritated by it. He looked out for himself and sometimes the Dregs, why did she think he would look out for her too? If she wanted to be moody then fine, but when she put her arm around Jesper and called him 'Jes' Kaz nearly walloped the Zemeni boy with his cane. Now they were stuck in a room together for the night and Jesper had abandoned them to get dinner brought up.

"You know he's an addict, he's gambling the food money right now," Kaz said after he washed his face and upper body in the basin. Y/N had gone behind a makeshift privacy wall she had created with a sheet and some rope to wash herself also. He only spoke to get his mind to focus on something besides the fact that her shirt was hanging on that rope line right now.

"I know that Kaz, I didn't give him much and I requested dinner be brought up to us at 9 bells when we rented the room, I just wanted at least one of you gone while I cleaned up. Saints know you weren't going to leave the room," she snapped. She had pulled on a new shirt, this one long enough that she could remove the pants she had been wearing for a little while. "Are you decent?" Kaz pulled a new shirt on, pulling down the sheet himself and tossing it onto Jesper's cot. He stood still, leaning on the wash table, cane leaning next to him, buttoning his shirt up slowly. Despite trying to avert her eyes Kaz caught Y/N glancing at him as he dressed. She met his eyes and he cocked his eyebrow at her. She scowled and folded her arms, a naked leg crossing over the other. Now he gawked for a moment. Their eyes met again and this time they both smirked. Damn.

"Are you going to finish dressing?" he asked, folding his arms now that his shirt was properly done up. She shook her head and stood up, showing that the shirt she wore went down to her knees.

"This is nearly the length of a proper night gown, and its hot in this room," she said, leaning across from him and folding her arms. They stared at each other for a long time, both trying to figure the other out. Kaz didn't know her thoughts which irked him. Most people were easy reads and in most cases Y/N was the same, but there was something underneath the shallow exterior she showed the world. Those big brown eyes held hidden depths that he couldn't quite capture, but he desperately wanted to explore them. He could tell himself that he just wanted to know his associate, make sure he knew all her secrets so he could use them when the time was right, but he knew that he truly wanted to know her secrets so that he could really know her, and he would take her secrets to the grave with him. He could see that she was once again, studying his body so he did the same to her. She was curvy, and looked soft in all the right places, and he imagined for a moment what it would be like to feel those soft places, his bare hands tracing those curves, exploring her hips, breasts, lips. He swallowed hard, shaking the thought from his mind, but noticing that the thought of Jordie took more time to arrive than it normally did when he thought about touching someone. Progress was being made, prison must have worked some magic on him. He had been forced to touch nearly everyone he came in contact with there and after awhile he had just braced himself all the time for the interaction. That was probably why he could brace himself now, without the thought occurring to him.

"Are they playing music now?" Kaz asked suddenly, hearing what sounded like a full band playing downstairs. Y/N perked up and smiled some.

"We used to dance to this song at the Little Palace before everything went to shit," she said. "Have you ever danced Kaz?" Kaz looked at her surprised.

"You think that I dance? Do I look like I dance?" he asked, not sure how anyone could think he would dance. Not only was his aversion to touch a problem but his knee wouldn't handle a dance well either. Y/N just laughed.

"You could do this dance, I'll show you," she offered. He stood still for a moment before he found himself standing. What was he doing? Why was he letting himself dance with her? He needed a strong drink and someone to torture, he was becoming soft. "Hold your cane level with the ground." Despite his mind telling him to just go to bed something else had him holding the cane how she asked.

"Now what? Do I swing it around, take out as many dancers as I can?" he asked, trying to sound annoyed and reluctant. Y/N just laughed, making his lip twitch up again.

"No, put your one hand on the end and put the cane behind your back, good, now the other hand sits next to your hip holding the cane again," she explained. He was now standing with his cane held behind his back, half of it sticking out at her. She approached and he inhaled sharply. "Don't worry, I won't touch you, just the cane. Normally we would have our arms behind each others' backs holding hands but this will work." She took hold of his cane the same way only facing the other direction. She started the dance by taking two slow steps forward, forcing Kaz to follow suit. They were a few inches apart and he watched her feet as she took a quick step this time. She let go of the cane and it dropped back to standing. He watched her and followed as she did a bow he did too, their eyes never losing contact as they danced. She stepped up to him and he moved to her, mere inches apart again. He could feel the energy from her body before she spun away, back to him. She looked back over her shoulder at him and for a moment he thought about how easy it would be to just touch her hair, brush it aside, feel the skin of her neck. His hand was starting to reach out, eyes still staring into hers when the door to the room flew open and Jesper rushed in.

"I won a chicken!" he proclaimed, holding up the roast bird high above his head. Kaz looked from Jesper, to the chicken held high above, then back to Y/N. She was shaking with laughter and before he could control himself Kaz let out a laugh, gripping the cane for support.

"I knew you could smile!" Y/N said triumphantly. This sobered up Kaz and his clamped his mouth closed, bringing back his sour demeanor. There was no way she was getting him to dance and laugh in one evening. He wouldn't allow it. Not in front of Jesper. Being soft around the girl you were falling for was one thing...

 Y/N could pinpoint the moment that Kaz's brain stopped working. He had just clammed up again, going from dancing and actually laughing, back to being the leader of the Dregs, the Bastard of the Barrel again. She wanted to be annoyed but she couldn't, not after Jesper had come acting like a chicken was the jackpot of the tables downstairs. He set it down on the end table, pulling the bird apart with his hands and sharing with them. They all ate in silence, enjoying a hot meal for the first time that day. It was dry and turned to dust once chewed but Y/N found herself enjoying it, helping herself to two servings as she listened to Jesper tell the story of his win.

They were just about to get into bed when someone shouted down the hall that the Grisha were there. Y/N dashed to get pants on, yanking on her shoes and then her vest and coat. She could hear Kaz and Jesper around her getting ready in the dark when they heard footsteps. They froze in place praying they would pass but instead the door was shoved open by a Squallor wind, sending Jesper down on his ass. Two Second Army Grisha entered the room, having seen Jesper and Kaz but not Y/N. As quiet as she could Y/N moved towards the door, hoping to get the drop on them, but she was not naturally stealthy. The two turned and stared shocked for just a moment. It was all Y/N needed she moved her hands and sent one Grisha flying with a gust of wind while her other hand clenched, bringing the Squallor down unconscious. Jesper was still getting to his feet, not noticing her abilities but she knew that Kaz had seen what she had done and judging by the look on his face he had already started to figure her out more than she hoped.

"Come on, we need to leave now," she said, grabbing her pack. She waited for the other two to grab their bags before entering the hall. She could see Kaz tense as they pushed through the thrall of people trying to get out, being pushed to the ground as soon as they got to the bottom floor. An Inferni stood guard at the door, trying to keep the crowd inside as the rowdy bunch tried to force their way out. In the melee Jesper drew his gun and shot first at the Inferni and then at the glass of a nearby window, breaking it. The Inferni screeched in pain, throwing a ball of fire randomly into the crowd, catching on the gambling tables on fire.

All hell broke loose.

The crowd started to stampede in all directions. Jesper took off out the window and ran off into the night while Kaz tried to follow. His cane was knocked out of his hands, moving away from him. Y/N threw herself into motion, a hand reaching out to draw the cane back to her, while also bracing herself over Kaz, coat spread open and forcing the crowd to go around her. She felt her muscles ache as she held firm, protecting Kaz the only way she could until he could get to his feet. He finally was able to compose himself enough to stand and hurry out the window. Y/N moved after him, giving him the cane and running towards the woods. Other Grisha was hurrying to the burning gambling hall and Y/N found herself praying to whatever Saint would listen to let them get into the woods.

They were almost there when a carriage stopped in front of them. Panic washed over Y/N for a moment before she saw Jesper in the drivers seat.

"Get in!" he shouted. Kaz threw open the door and dove in, his hand reaching out to yank Y/N in after him. They landed on the floor awkwardly, her on top of him, but she was able to keep herself held up on the seats, keeping her hands to herself so to speak. Kaz sat and then she did as Jesper drove the horses out of the town and into the night.

[samwenahetbait]

@disableddean​ this is gonna be long but I heard disablednatural and *gestures wildly* i wanted to participate

I have this headcanon that fallen angels can basically get fibromyalgia (chronic musculoskeletal pain/neurological disorder) because I have fibro and I think Cas should also. Fibro is caused by nerves sending pain signals when there’s nothing there. This is entirely based on one person’s experience with fibro and also i don’t think that falling gives you a disability i’m just disabled and cas should be too

I think for Cas it would start with feeling like he’s come down with the flu. He asks Dean about it, concerned, and Dean reassures him he probably has a bug and to get some rest and take some advil. So Cas takes it easy for three days. And he gets more tired. Sleep gets harder. He gets more pain in his joints. It’s two weeks into this that he asks Dean how long the flu lasts and Dean asks him if he’s had a fever, which he hasn’t. Dean’s confused, and so is Sam when they ask him. He tries melatonin for sleep. It goes on for a while. He wakes up in the morning and his legs are stiff. It gets to the point where an hour of inactivity makes them stiff. He starts getting muscle spasms and muscle twitches. At two months he starts getting migraines and they start getting frequent. When he gets hurt in a hunt because he can’t run as fast as Dean and Sam they realize this is probably something serious and that Cas needs to see a doctor.

Cute DeanCas headcanons: I think Dean is also disabled (i hc him with hip and knee problems from hunting as well as autism and adhd) and so he owns so much icyhot and tigerbalm. Their bathroom medicine cabinet has a shelf of painkillers, braces, patches, and creams. Dean will massage Cas’ back sometimes, rub his temples when he gets migraines. They get a heated blanket and a weighted blanket and they loved to cuddle under it. They each have a heating pad. Dean’s named his Zepplin. Cas’ heating pad is named the Enochian word for heat because he panicked but he won’t tell Dean that. Dean figures that’s what the word means. When Cas gets his grace back the pain gets better but it doesn’t go away. He goes on hunts again (he learns how to hold himself, how to have good days and call out on the bad days, he’s on medications, and even though it’s bad at times he learns to push himself to get through the moment) and has a foldable cane. So does dean. Dean’s bad knee/hip and Cas’ bad side are opposite so they can hold hands when they both use their canes.

Also Sam is 6′4″ canonical back pain.

[hermannsthumb]

Prompt: Newt has never seen the appeal of threesomes, frankly. They seem like more trouble than they're worth. But now there's two Hermanns standing in front of him, and his first thought (after "Did I take my meds?" , "Do I need new glasses?" , and "What the fuck is happening?") is that he needs both of them, immediately.

Anonymous said: Prompt (if you haven't written it already!) where due to time travel shenanigans, newt gets spit roasted by hermann(s)

i love how many requests i get for this kinda stuff HAHAHAH i technically have written this three times before, but in honor of newt’s birthday, let’s go for a fourth! MAJOR not sfw below cut!!!

----------

Newt is distracted as hell when he half-jogs into the lab one otherwise ordinary birthday afternoon, which might explain why he doesn’t see that there are two Hermanns at first. There’s too much on his mind—picking a club for tonight, what dissections he has to get done today before they can go out to a club, whether or not he remembered to wash his sexy club clothes, and if it even matters, because they’re just gonna get covered in glitter again. Whether or not the barista got Hermann’s coffee order right this time. Whether or not the special birthday breakfast pastries survived the journey. “It’s pouring out there,” he complains to Hermann, pushing his soaked hair out of his eyes and scraping his boots off on the pathetic rubber mat they keep in the doorway. “If it doesn’t let up, we might wanna reconsider going out tonight.”

“Newton,” Hermann says.

“Sweaty, wet bodies in a small room? Gross. No thanks.” Newt inspects the pastries: the brown wrappings of the one on top are slightly water-logged, but the pastry itself is fine. Perfect. “We could just rent a movie.”

“Newton,” Hermann says.

“And order some pizza.” Man, that’d make for a nice birthday. All cozied up in Newt’s bed with a monster movie and pizza. “Actually, let’s do that instead. I kinda wanted to go dancing, but—”

Hermann bangs his cane against the floor. It echoes strangely, almost as if he’s doing it twice at once, and Newt turns to him in confusion—or, as he discovers, them. He drops his pastry. He polishes his glasses free of water, and crams them back onto his face. He blinks a few times. “Oh, shit,” he says. “Dude, there are two of you.”

“I know,” both Hermanns say, and roll their eyes.

Newt approaches them cautiously. Two Hermanns. One of them is undoubtedly Newt’s Hermann, judging by his bad haircut, bad glasses, and bad clothing, which is the same boring slacks and sweater combo he was wearing when Newt left for coffee an hour ago. The other Hermann is a Hermann unlike one Newt’s ever seen before, clad in dark colors, with hair cropped somewhat more evenly and twice as many wrinkles around his eyes. Not two Hermanns—it can’t be two Hermanns. That’s a scientific impossibility. “Your brother,” Newt says. He knows Hermann has an older one, though the odds of Hermann having an older brother who uses a cane identical to his, on the same side as his, is a little slim.

“No,” Hermann says.

“You cousin?” Newt says.

“No,” the other Hermann says, but the corner of his mouth twitches up with an obvious fondness. “Your earlier assessment was correct, I’m afraid. There are two of me.”

Newt glances between them again. Same soft, brown eyes; same dark eyelashes; same weird, wide lips; same elegant cheekbones. Is Newt dreaming? No, he’s sure he’s not dreaming—it’s too, like, real to be a dream. (Besides, Newt’s brain is never this kind to him, and if it was, he would’ve just skipped the boring build-up and gone straight to the threeway.) Is he having some sort of a mental break, brought on by stress, or forgetting to take his meds somewhere along the line? Unlikely—Newt’s been way more stressed before, and he’s skipped his meds before, and he’s never had a reaction like this. It must be real. “Well, shit,” he finally says. “Hermann, this is the best birthday present ever.”

“Er,” Newt’s Hermann says. “It is?”

Newt cups the side of the new Hermann’s face, feeling it, inspecting it, reveling in the warmth of his skin. Yep—real, definitely real. Real and handsome. Newt pats his cheek. “You cloned yourself just so we could have an awesome birthday threesome,” Newt says. “That’s really touching, Hermann, seriously. I promise I won’t let you down.”

“No,” Hermann says. “That’s not—”

New Hermann gently places his hand over Newt’s, leaning into his touch, and smiles. There’s a hint of sadness to it Newt doesn’t quite understand. “I’m not a clone, darling,” he says.

“Oh, I like him,” Newt says. “He’s nicer. Definitely not a clone, then. Who are you, then, hot stuff?”

“He’s—oh.” Hermann sighs. “It all sounds so silly when I try to say it out loud. He’s from the future, Newton.”

Newt hums, considering New Hermann. Yeah, that makes more sense. Eye wrinkles. However far off in the future he’s from, apparently he’s picked up a bit more fashion sense by then, and maybe even a bit of style. “You came back in time just to have an awesome birthday threesome with me?” Newt guesses.

New Hermann laughs. Eye wrinkles, style, and apparently some sort of major head injury where he forgets how bad he and Newt hate each other. The future is now, or whatever. “Truthfully,” he says, “arriving on your birthday was unintentional. It’s difficult to get exact dates correctly with the sort of technology I was using, you see.”

“Apparently there’s some great big event that happens in 2035 that it’s absolutely imperative he warn us about,” Hermann says.

That’s a bit of a let down. Still cool by virtue of time travel, Newt guesses, but awesome birthday threesome would’ve been more exciting. “Oh,” he says. A let down, and a shame, really, because 11-years-into-the-future Hermann is pretty sexy, and Newt was hoping for the chance to get his hands on some of that. Or maybe get those hands on him. He’s not picky. “I mean,” he tries, one last desperate attempt, “what’s the rush, you know? You can always tell us afterwards.”

“Afterwards?” Future Hermann says.

“Afterwards,” Newt repeats. He grabs Future Hermann by the lapels of his dark labcoat and smiles cheekily. “You can spare a couple hours, can’t you, dude? For the birthday boy?”

A sudden warmth blooms behind the future Hermann’s eyes; his mouth stretches into a smile of his own, goofy and affectionate. Future Hermann sure seems to like him. Newt hasn’t got a problem with that in the slightest, actually. “Er, a couple,” he stammers, and Newt hears Hermann—his Hermann—inhale sharply, like he’s just been offended to the utmost degree. “I suppose that’s— Well, I suppose there’s no real problem there. It’s not as if I’m on a schedule. Time travel. After all.”

“After all,” Newt says. “What about you, Hermann?

Newt’s Hermann is silent for a little too long to be anything but considering. “Er,” he says.

“Good,” Newt says.

--------

“Alright, boys,” Newt says, “I’m not as young as I used to be, so I can’t promise I’m very good at this anymore.”

“Anymore?” Newt’s Hermann says.

Newt winks at him over his shoulder. He has a witty joke on the edge of his tongue, but it dies when the Hermann in front of him (older, nicer Hermann) begins to tenderly stroke his jaw without warning. “You’ve always been so handsome,” Hermann says. His hand trails up the side of Newt’s face and stops in his hair, where he begins to twirl a strand around his finger. Newt shivers. “I could stare at you all day.”

“That’s kinda creepy, Hermann,” Newt says. “And cute, I guess? Okay, here goes.”

He opens his mouth wide and takes in Hermann’s—the new Hermann’s—dick as deep as he can, which is somewhere around the three-fourths mark. He used to be a lot better at deep-throating in his twenties. Also, Hermann is somewhat very well-endowed. “Bugger,” the future Hermann moans. His eyes flicker shut, and his grip in Newt’s hair tightens, and Newt feels a surge of pride. He’s always loved being able to turn Hermann to jelly like this, and apparently some things never chance. He hopes future Newt is still giving it to Hermann like this. “Newton, that’s marvelous.”

“Oh, by Jove,” Newt’s Hermann murmurs. He’s standing behind them at the edge of the bed, his knees braced against it gently. He’s also undoubtedly enjoying the view. Newt smiles around Hermann’s dick (puffing out his cheeks for show, just a little), and wriggles his ass obnoxiously at his Hermann. He needed the guy inside of him five minutes ago, goddamn it. Hermann seems to get the hint: there’s a shaking hand placed on his hip, a lone finger prodding his lube-slick entrance to check he’s properly prepared, and then Hermann’s dick sliding into him inch-by-inch. Newt moans. 

“Newton,” the two Hermanns groan out in near-unison, the one as Newt begins to bob his head up and down his dick, the other as he bottoms out and his pelvis hits Newt’s ass.

Newt pulls his mouth off of Hermann’s dick for only a second. “Fuck me already,” he begs. His voice is raspy even to his own ears.

He’s not sure which Hermann he’d intended to direct the plea towards, but both take it to heart: the Hermann behind Newt begins to rock in and out of him, picking up speed with each little thrust, while the Hermann in front of Newt pushes his dick back between Newt’s lips and begins a series of shallow thrusts of his own. Newt feels speared open, and used; Newt feels fucking awesome. “Mm,” he moans. He ruts against the bedsheets lazily.

“Wait, wait,” the Hermann fucking his mouth suddenly says, voice breathless. “Your—ah—your timing is not quite right.”

“It most certainly is right,” the Hermann in his ass huffs. “You’re meant to be following my lead. Yours is off.”

“Hardly,” the first Hermann says. “Stop moving—we need a bloody rhythm. We needn’t overwhelm Newton.”

Both of them still. Newt hears them debating how to proceed in a series of hissed whispers (though he’s too busy happily sucking on Hermann’s dick to bother with proper eavesdropping), and then the Hermann behind him is pulling out, while the Hermann in front of him pushes further into his mouth and down his throat. Newt’s throat burns pleasurably; his eyes begin to water, and he gags very slightly. “There we are,” the first Hermann continues in a grunt. “Now—” He pulls out until the wet head of his dick is just grazing Newt’s lips, while the other Hermann pushes back into Newt’s ass. “Much neater.”

Newt swallows down a hysterical laugh, or maybe it’s more of a whimper, and just grins instead. “You guys work it out?”

“Shut it,” the Hermann behind him gasps. He grinds deep in Newt, hitting all the right spots, and Newt is grateful for the return of the other Hermann’s dick in his mouth to muffle him before he can really make an embarrassing sound.

They keep up the pattern for all of five minutes, which Newt is pretty impressed with. Slowly, though, they start to get impatient; lingering too long inside of Newt, or pulling out a bit too slowly, or jumping the gun just a bit too early to rock back in. The Hermann in behind is the first to snap and forgo it entirely, suddenly gripping onto Newt’s waist and pounding into him as hard as he can. Not that Newt is complaining. “Ah, Newton, that’s so—” he moans, and Newt rewards him with a little teasing squeeze, “I—”

“Mmhm,” Newt says. Part of him wants to start worrying about his own orgasm, but honestly, he’s enjoying this too much. 

Getting an idea, he pulls his mouth off of Hermann and replaces it with his hand. Hermann always gets really embarrassed when Newt lets him come on his face, and he’s curious about if that’s changed in eleven years. “This feels so awesome,” he says. He begins jerking Hermann off quickly, barely a centimeter from his lips. He’s sure he’s gonna say some dumb shit—he loses his mouth to brain filter (which already works at minimum capacity) completely when he’s this turned on. “So, so awesome. I wanna do it again with both of you guys in my ass or something, but I want you to come all over me first, fuck yeah, come on, Hermann, do it—”

“Newton!” the Hermann above him chokes out, throwing a hand over his eyes, which gives Newt all the warning he needs to stick his tongue out and catch a small portion of his jizz. The rest makes a mess of his glasses. Kinda gross. Pretty hot, too.

He’s not surprised when he feels the Hermann behind him stiffen and come in him only a second later, cursing and gasping—he really does like to see Newt messy.

While they both collapse to the bed and attempt to catch their breath, Newt rubs his fingers through the mess one Hermann made of his face and uses it as lube to stroke himself off. He doesn’t take very long, either, considering this is definitely one of the hottest things to ever happen to him. Top five birthdays for sure.

“So,” he says, ten minutes later. He’s positioned himself in bed as the middle of the Hermann sandwich. Both Hermanns (arms draped around Newt) look at him, but Newt only looks back at Future Hermann. “What did you come here to tell us?”

“Oh,” Future Hermann says. He blushes. “Er. Right.”

[j-hawthorn]

A Pleasant Day Off

(Cheeky little VetVimes. Mildly hot and heavy! It’s also posted over on AO3 here!)

---

There was something about dried cranberries that really rubbed Sam Vimes the wrong way. Why take a perfectly average berry, and make it a smaller, sadder version of itself? The ones in the bowl in front of him were sour.

Peeling an orange, Vimes leaned back in his chair, and rubbed sleep from his eyes with his sleeve. It was a surprisingly quiet day. He had woken at around mid-morning to Sybil kissing him awake. After a delightful forty minutes of enjoying his large, soft wife, (mostly between those glorious thighs of hers), he had been pushed out of bed and went to shave.

Technically this was his day off. But Sam couldn't help feel like it was more of a house arrest. He was under strict instructions not to leave the grounds. It was drilled into him before she left, that if Sybil caught the slightest whiff of his leaving, he would be in for a world of disappointed looks and extremely pointed sighs. He couldn't bear the thought.

Wiping orange juice from his chin, Sam yawned, crossing his legs at the ankles. The sun had made its way through the murk of the city. It was, he thought, a good day to have a smoke in the garden.

Nipping through the kitchens, Vimes nabbed himself a freshly baked bread roll that he slathered in butter and jam, grinning to himself at the simple pleasure.

The years of food scarcity he (and pretty much everyone else he knew) had endured never really left him, and instead meant that he still relished the simple joys of a good piece of warm bread. You could always trust warm bread. He was glad he'd kept that part of himself. The one that knew to take what he could get and hold on. It came from a harder life. Now in theory he could snap his fingers and have anything he wanted, yet Vimes clung to the memories of what it was like. He needed to remember. He owed it to his past self. And to those who it was their every day.

Vimes found a bench at the base of a large tree. He sat with his back against the trunk, legs stretched out, arms folded and chin resting on his chest. In the warm he almost nodded off. Vimes fell into that half waking doze, where he could still hear everything around him, but was pleasantly fuzzy.

To his left a twig very pointedly snapped. He huffed, not moving, 'So, what brings you here, then?'

There was a soft laugh, and the light swish of robes. Vimes felt someone sit beside him. 'Perhaps,' said the visitor. 'I have come to visit the Duke on his day off, or to bring him some documents worthy of his attention.'

Sam cracked an eye open, 'You got something?'

Havelock Vetinari smirked, 'Goodness me, no. I wouldn't dare go against Lady Sybil like that.'

Vimes huffed, closing his eye and shifting into an even more slouched position, 'So, a social visit then.'

'Is that so odd?'

'Depends on who you ask, I suppose.'

Their shoulders brushed, 'As you're the only one here, commander, it's obvious I'm asking you.'

Sam was quiet for a moment. He sat up, fishing his cigar case and lighter from his pockets. 'I haven't seen you for a while,' he said finally. He leaned forward, arms braced on his knees and sent a puff of smoke up into the breeze. 'Outside of work, that is.'

Birds chirped overhead. There was a soft sigh beside him, followed by the light tapping of a single fingernail on a cane. 'And that is...regrettable.'

Vimes chuckled, shaking his head. He stood, hands on his hips and leaned back, joints cracking. 'Come on,' he said, gently nudging Havelock's foot with his own. 'I'll pop the kettle on -' he paused to scratch his chin, 'Actually, I think Sybil got some of those little cakes you're so fond of stashed away somewhere.'

'Capital.'

The men sat in the drawing room, a pot of tea steaming between them. Sam puffed on his cigar; arm folded beneath his head. Fingertips brushed his lips. He cocked a brow, letting Havelock steal the cigar from him. His tall companion stretched his legs out, and slouched, sending his own cloud of smoke into the room.

One hand resting on his stomach, Havelock turned, and caught Sam’s eye. Vimes gave a half smile, turning his attention to the long fingers that held his cigar. Vetinari’s sleeve had slipped down, exposing his pale wrist. Sam swallowed, reaching over to lightly touch the back of his hand, pulling it towards himself.

‘Really, Vimes, if you wanted your cigar back, you could simply have said so -’ Sam pressed his lips to the underside of that wrist and Havelock stopped speaking. He took the cigar from him, stubbing it out in his empty teacup, not once releasing his hold of Vetinari’s hand. He shifted closer, their knees bumping.

'You always are a surprise, Sam,' Havelock whispered. Vimes looked up to catch his eye and smiled at the pleasing pinkness that rose on his cheeks. Vetinari moved. Settling on Sam's lap, an arm snaked around his shoulders, he pressed himself close, forehead resting against Sam's.

He wouldn't say it out loud, but Sam had missed him. Missed this. He let one hand trail down Havelock's spine, the other resting on his hip. He kissed his neck, eliciting a stifled moan from him. Thin fingers bunched the fabric on his shoulders. Sam tightened his arm around the small of Havelock's back, his other hand reaching up to cup his cheek. Teeth grazed his thumb, and Sam grunted in approval.

'How's your leg?' Vimes asked, nipping playfully at Vetinari's earlobe.

'...Not great,' Came the quiet reply.

Sam sighed, resting his chin on his shoulder. He clapped Havelock on the back, 'Rightio then, come on.' With as much care as he could muster, Sam scooped him into his arms, carrying him out of the room.

Havelock frowned, 'Oh, honestly, do you really think this is necessary?'

'Yup!'

Vimes carried him easily upstairs, ignoring his huffs and grumbles. He nudged open the bedroom door, kicking it shut behind them. Carefully, He placed Havelock on the bed and sat beside him, working on the laces of his shoes. He eased them off, tossing them to the floor.

'Right, what's something that'll help? Sybil's got some ointments for...Well, everything, in the bathroom -'

'Sam-'

'I think there's a hot water bottle in there too, actually -'

'Shut up and get over here.'

Vimes, for once, did as he was told. He lay down beside Havelock, chin resting on folded arms. Vetinari rolled onto his side, palm on Sam's cheek. His touch was warm, and Vimes found himself turning his head to press a kiss to his palm.

'I didn't come here for you to fuss,' Havelock said. 'I came here to see you -'

'Yeah, I gathered that-'

'I missed you.'

Brows notched, Vimes leaned in, kissing him softly. 'Yeah,' He muttered against his lips. 'I uh...Yeah,' he sighed, looking into Vetinari's eyes. His companion smiled softly and stroked his cheek before carefully pulling Vimes on top of himself. The commander chuckled, and while he was mindful of his bad leg, he didn't hesitate to grab Havelock's other thigh.

Vetinari dragged his nails up under Sam's shirt, making him shiver. Sam shifted to straddle his hips, keeping his weight on his knees. He pulled his shirt off, and Vetinari ran his calculating fingers over the planes of his chest.

'That's new,' He tutted, finger tips tracing a fresh scar along Sam's ribs.

Vimes just shrugged his shoulder. He fumbled with the tiny buttons on Havelock's top, frowning. The bastard simply smiled, watching Sam struggle and was no bloody help at all.

Sam huffed, 'Seriously, what is with all this?'

'Do you have a problem with my fashion choices?' Vetinari chuckled, running a hand through Sam's hair.

'I do when you're bloody done up tighter than a ducks ars-'

A hand clamped over his mouth, 'I'm going to stop you right there, Sir Samuel. None of that, now.'

Sam smirked under his hand, and nipped at his skin. Vetinari rolled his eyes, nimbly undoing his own buttons in a matter of seconds. Vimes watched as his layers were removed. He leaned in, kissing along Havelock's now exposed chest.

Hands combed through his hair and soon the pair were lost in one another. They both shed the rest of their clothing. Strong, sword calloused hands roamed while delicate, long fingers pressed and pulled. Moans were muffled by hard kisses, open mouthed and urging.

By the time they eventually eased themselves apart, Sam's back was covered with scratches and Havelock's neck and shoulders were red with bites. Vimes panted, his entire body fizzing as he gently guided his lover to lay among the plethora of pillows. He pulled the heavy quilt over them both, pulling Havelock close. He settled against him, chin on his shoulder, Havelock's hand in his hair.

Vimes yawned, eyes half closed. He chuckled softly to himself, nuzzling into both Havelock and the pillows. He sunk into the bedding with a small smile.

A kiss was pressed to the top of his head. 'What are you giggling about?' Vetinari asked.

Sam snorted, blinking up at him, 'So, two questions. One: When did you and Sybil concoct this little plan? And two: Has it gone how you hoped?'

'...Last week. And the plan isn't over yet,' Vetinari chuckled. He wrapped his arms around Sam, chin on top of his head. 'I lost track of time while you were doing that thing with your tongue, but, at some point, Sybil is joining us.'

'...But she went shopping.'

'Yes, and I believe it was to Mr. Scrope's... Establishment.'

'...Oh...'

Havelock chuckled, kissing the top of his head again, 'I hear he has a new line of leather pieces that are quite delicate, yet durable.'

Sam sunk further under the blankets; his forehead now pressed against Havelock's chest. 'Well then...' He muttered, cheeks burning red at the thought of his wife, and leather, and whatever interesting little trinkets and toys she'd no doubt bring home to experiment with.

He smiled, hugging Havelock, eyes closing. This really was going to be a damn fine day off.

[carnistirs]

forelsket

↳ @taangweek 2020 Day 7: Ember Island

Warnings: rated mature for some mild gore (just to be safe)

Summary: While on vacation, land-dweller Toph accidentally finds herself a merman who won’t leave her alone. 

Read on ao3 or under the cut 

forelsket {Norwegian} the overwhelming euphoric feeling you experience when you’re falling in love with someone

‘

Toph hears the ripple in the water and bends over the dock, angling her face towards the abyss. She pushes her foot back into the sea, feels currents brush against her ankle.

She isn’t afraid, has never once been afraid of anything in her life, so she holds her spine erect and keeps her face expressionless at whatever’s staring back at her from beneath the surface of the water. It feels like a fish, a particularly big one, spinning its tail in circles. She picks up her cane and jabs it into the water, hard and quick, and the creature retreats further into the ocean’s depths.

But then she hears it – the singing that rises above the stillness of the sea.

Even stifled by the water, it’s the smoothest thing Toph’s ever heard. There’s a pull at her chest that has her leaning over the dock even more, guiding her body until her face is partially submerged.

And there are no words to describe what she hears – it’s like wind chimes against a gentle wind, the sweet tune of a hermit thrush at dawn, a choir in an large, empty church. Except, it also isn’t any of those things because this is seamless and infinite, a song more mellifluous than anything the best of humanity could ever hope to produce.

It’s a song that lures doe-eyed sailors out the sea with smiles on their faces, even as they’re choking with water in their throats.

Part of Toph knows she should have drowned by now or been dragged out further until the tides carry her body away. Instead of yanking her into the water though, the song wraps itself all around her like the most comfortable hug in the world.

This is—

She jerks her head out of the water and doesn’t even cough at how long she’s been holding her breath. She just inhales once, an eerie calm settling over her.

(When Toph leaves the dock, the song turns manic, lingering like a prolonged shriek in her ear until the noises of the beach houses muffle it out.)

‘

She jerks awake when the song tugs at her again, reeling her back to involuntary awareness. The summer heat is already unbearable enough without this thing’s fucking voice leaving her restless in bed. She feels hot and sticky all over, and that voice is crawling underneath her skin, scratching wildly at her until she’s close enough to smell the sea again.

Come back.

Toph feels herself blink once before she’s right at the window, hands braced on the frame like she’s about to jump out into the darkness.

A snarl rips out of her when she realizes the stupid thing she was about to do, so she raises her palms, snaps the window shut. The voice is there still, occupying a corner of her head.

When she turns around, she ignores the bed completely, heading towards the shower in her bathroom instead.

‘

“Do you hear that?” she asks, tapping her cane irritably against the floor. “The singing? Do you hear it?”

“Toph,” is what Zuko says, careful. “That’s the fourth time you’ve asked that in the past hour. I don’t hear any singing.”  

‘

The frenzied croon in the back of her mind stops, a plucked string on an instrument, once her toes reach soft sand again. She hears the creature’s tail slap against the water in excitement and grinds her teeth together.

Figures it would already be waiting for her.

“What do you fucking want,” Toph hisses furiously, tossing her cane to the side and launching herself in the water towards it with her hands wrapped around it’s throat.

Sharp teeth click together and there’s a beginning of a hiss, but it doesn’t attack her in return.

As she’s choking the creature against a boulder, palms flat against the gills on its neck, she feels a blanket of smooth scales wind around her legs. The movement is coy, and it’s sudden, how much she wishes she could see whatever expression is on it’s face.

There’s a moan that vibrates against her hands – it sounds like a male – and Toph jerks away, scalded. As she’s falling back, she remembers that she’s never learned how to fucking swim, and she’s flailing now, arms wild and chaotic—

He coils his tail around her tighter, his palms framing Toph hips as he gently pulls her back up. There’s webbing between his nimble fingers as he cradles her to his chest, and she feels scales on his arms and shoulders while she instinctively grasps for him. He hums at her soothingly, swaying slightly to the beat of the waves.  

“You—” Toph sputters, wiggling her legs in the strict hold of his tail. “Stop trying to cop a feel, motherfucker!”

The creature – merman – laughs. “You threw yourself at me first.”

“Because you’ve been fucking singing to me for days! You know what you’re doing!”

“How else was I going to get you back here?”

(To me.)

Toph snaps an arm out, her hand grazing the dock. She’s surprised that she’s able to break out of his grip easily as she’s hauling herself over the dock, but she feels fingers in her hair, teasing along her scalp. A curious tug at her hairband has her tresses spilling over either side of her face like wet curtains. She adjusts the askew sunglasses on the bridge of her nose and sniffs.

“Give it back,” Toph snaps.

“I’ve always wondered why humans used these,” he chirps, snapping the band against his wrist because, of course, he’s now wearing it as a bracelet. She hears him swimming forward, hears him folding his arms along the edge of the dock and resting his chin on them. “Hi. I’m Aang.”

‘

Every time Toph goes down to the beach, Aang gives her treasures – sea shells that feel like no other, a string of pearls, lost items that haven’t seen land in centuries.

She gives him a fork, once.

“What’s it called?” he says with absolute marvel in his voice.

Her mouth twitches. “A dinglehopper. I know you don’t have any, but it’s used to brush your hair.”

Toph should have known that wouldn’t deter him in the slightest. She finds herself sprawled flat on the dock minutes later, her hair hanging over the edge and a fork running through her strands as he smoothens out the tangles.

“Are you the kind of merman that eats humans?”

Aang’s hand stills in her hair, hesitating. “Yes, but only the bad ones,” he answers quietly.

“Really?”

“I’ve lived a long time,” he creeps closer, placing a cold hand on her temple, and she smells the sea and the wind on his wet skin. “You’d be surprised at the amount of terrible things that take place at beaches when no one’s looking.”  

Toph raises an inquisitive brow. “How old are you?”

“Oh, I’ve surpassed centuries,” Aang replies, and the buoyancy in his voice is tempered by the wistfulness that manages to seep in, making him sound incredibly lonely.

“You have other friends, right? Mer-friends?

“Yeah! Katara and Sokka – you’d like them, I think – but they don’t live in these parts of the ocean. They’re also busy looking after their tribe, so they don’t have time to travel like me. Not like they used to anyway.”  

“How about family?”

“They died a long time ago.” Fuck, there’s that sadness again – the one that sounds so strange on the merman because he’s always happy. “There was this war and I wasn’t there and – well, I lost them.”

Aang combs his fingers through her hair, fork forgotten, and doesn’t offer any more information other than that. She shouldn’t have brought up family, so she keeps quiet, basking in the sun and letting him braid her hair into whatever style he wants.

Later, when Toph wanders back into the beach house, Zuko blurts out: “Did you braid your hair with seaweed?”

“Huh,” she grins, her fingers absentmindedly touching the filmy, wet thing weaved into her braid, “guess I did.”

‘

There’s a man following her.

Toph hears Aang in her head again, his melodious voice comforting her as if he knows, so she follows the direction his song takes her to until she’s able to hear his sweet singing beyond the comforts of her mind. The man who’s been tracking after her for fifteen minutes stops in place, a shudder wracking through him. The man turns, hypnotized, his body wading into the water.

The song for this man makes Toph’s bones rattle, but it doesn’t make her want to seep herself in frigid water, doesn’t make her want to sink her body deep until she can no longer breathe.

(She wonders why.)

“Hello,” she hears Aang murmur in a honeyed tone that coils around the soul, yanking and claiming. “Why were you following that girl?”

“She was pretty,” the man says and he sounds drugged, like the words are being dragged out of him.

“And what were you going to do to her?”

“Take her back to my place.” She digs her nails into her palm hard enough to pierce skin, anger swelling up in her. “Show her what a real man feels like.”

For a few seconds, Toph hears absolutely nothing.

Even the waves are silent.

Then, teeth rip into warm flesh and the screams coming out of the man’s mouth are awful. He screams and screams as his skin is being pulled and his flesh is being slowly sampled.  

Toph thinks to herself that he deserves this, that he deserves to be chewed and bitten into until he’s nothing but an empty, white husk.

She grips her cane tighter, smearing pinpricks of her own blood against it, when their bodies wrestle along the wet sand. Toph wonders if Aang’s just playing with his food at this point, drawing it out to watch the man struggle in terror. The sound of teeth gnawing on skin grates at her again, and Aang must have ripped out the throat this time because the man doesn’t make a single noise after that.  

“Toph,” comes Aang’s whisper. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“I’m fine.”  

“You don’t look—”

“I said I’m fine!” she shouts, but then she bursts out into cackles because she doesn’t know how to deal with this. Aang makes a confused noise and wriggles his body closer to her, which must make a ridiculous sight. “I mean, I might just be an accessory to murder. I don’t know. And,” – laughs even harder – “I might even go to prison, but that’s okay, I guess—”

“What’s prison?”

“It’s a place where they keep bad people like murderers or people who help murderers. Sometimes they never get out.”

Aang wraps his fingers around her wrists, pulls her down. Her ass hits the sand and she doesn’t even get to properly process it because he’s already nudging himself into her arms, his tail flopping behind him.

The smell of blood on him is strong, enough to almost make Toph gag, but she snakes her arms around him, slowly pressing her cheek to a copper-scented shoulder blade. He croons a lullaby to her, his palm rubbing circles along her spine.

“You won’t go to prison,” he says, chants – fuck, she doesn’t even know or care at this point – as his damp mouth brushes Toph’s cheek. “His body will never be found when I’m done with him.”  

“They’ll still look for him. This guy’s extremely rich if he’s able to afford a beach house on this island. There’s always a lot of attention when a rich person goes missing—”

“He’ll stay a missing person forever then. They won’t find him. I promise, Toph.”

So, Toph builds a sandcastle and listens to the way Aang easily snaps the bones off the corpse’s body, the way he peels the clumps of flesh off with his fingers and teeth, the way he laps at the river of blood. It’s an hour of just listening to him eat before he gathers up the bones and slips noiselessly back into the ocean.

She inches further down to where the waves leave seafoam against the sand so that Aang doesn’t have a long crawl back to her. When he does eventually come back, he sprawls across her thighs, pressing a sated smile into her hipbone.

Her palm grazes his stomach, expecting a huge bulge—

“The fuck?” Toph grumps, slapping her knuckles this time against a stomach that is obviously flat. “You just ate a whole human! Where did it all go?”

Aang chuckles, the noise sounding like soft bells. 

‘

“You know the guy who owns the house next to ours?” Ty Lee chimes across the table during breakfast. “Something Feng, I think? He’s been missing for two days now. His wife’s hysterical.”

“Wasn’t he the creep who kept trying to talk to you the other day?” Mai says, bored.

“Good riddance,” Azula says mildly. “We don’t need vermin like him stinking up this island, no matter how impressive his net worth is.”

Ty Lee, slightly aghast: “Azula! That’s a terrible thing to say.”

“Why are you so surprised?”

“Hey,” Zuko whispers to Toph, “do you know anything about this?”

Toph forks some scrambled eggs into her mouth. “Not a clue,” she throws back with a shrug.

‘

“Just let your head drop back in the water,” Aang instructs, his words curled around a grin as his hands hover behind the back of her scalp. A finger tips her chin towards the sky, allowing her ears to drop beneath the surface, and it’s so fucking weird floating on the water like this. “Don’t make that face, Toph. You said you’d try. It’s not that bad – see, you’re doing it!”

“I don’t even know what I’m doing.”  

Toph lets out a long exhale, trying to keep her limbs extended. It’s the strangest sensation – surrendering herself to biomechanics and water while simultaneously trying not to drown in the process.

“You’re doing so well,” he cheers in a soft murmur, brushing the tips of his fingers across her toes. “Stop,” Toph grits through her teeth, “that tickles. If you make me drown, I’m dragging you down with me.”

“Hmm, yes, drag the merman – who’s lived his entire life in the ocean – down with you,” Aang hums. “That’ll definitely kill him.”

Her retort is ready, but she never gets the chance to say it because Aang abruptly sweeps her into his arms, a violent hiss escaping through his teeth. He’s tense against her, gripping her so tight that it feels like he’s trying to brand his palms into her skin.

“Cute snack you got there,” an unfamiliar voice pipes up. “Care to share?”

“Who are you?” Toph shoots back, but adds in a quieter whisper: “Is he one of your mer-friends, Aang?”

“Oh, yeah, Aang and I go way back.”

“We’re not friends,” Aang says, terse, and the amount of venom coming out of his mouth makes his voice sound like a discordant note. “And she’s not food, Jet. Go somewhere else to feed.”

A loud snort. “She looks like food to me.”

Toph growls, trying to strain her face in Jet’s direction. “Hey, fuck you, seaweed-tits. This ass is off the menu.”

The other merman barks out a laugh and makes a move to swim closer, she thinks, but Aang flicks his tail up in a loud splash, letting out a snarl that vibrates against the back of her skull. Aang sinks his fingers into the back of her thighs, ready to just toss Toph back up onto the pier dock.

“Fine, whatever,” Jet spits derisively, diving back into the water with one last scoff.

Aang carefully lifts her back onto the dock and quickly buries his face against her stomach, his arms coiling around her. Even with the obvious threat gone, he still feels rigid and strained, his tail rolling behind him in agitated circles.  

“Sorry.” It’s muffled against her skin, but Toph feels his mouth shaping the word.

She flicks the center of his temple. “You don’t need to apologize, Kelpbrain.” 

‘

“Do you really have to go?”

(Please don’t go.)

“Yeah,” Toph says, rueful, letting him press his palm to the arch of her foot. He’s holding onto her foot like he wants to keep her forever. “My school’s starting again in a few weeks. I have to go back.”

“Where’s this school of yours?”

“It’s in Ba Sing Se, a city in China. Have you heard of it?”

The prolonged, forlorn stretch of silence implies that Aang has not heard of either Ba Sing Se or China in his entire life.

“I’ll come back,” she promises, reaching out a hand only to have it automatically clasped within his. “After the semester ends, I’ll convince my parents to fly me out here if I have to, okay?”

Aang lifts his other hand to Toph’s face, curving it against her cheek and pressing his thumb to the bow of her mouth. “It’ll be colder when you come back,” he says, his voice small and vulnerable to her ears. “The beach will be too cold for you.”

“Please, like that’s ever stopped you before. You’ll just screech a song in my head until I come to you.”  

“I could follow you—”

“No.” Toph’s not even sure he knows how to. “Even if you somehow managed to find me, there’ll be too many people. It won’t be a private island like this. If someone sees you, they’ll want to catch you and you could end up in the wrong hands.”

She’s wearing a nice dress – the others wanted to celebrate their last night on Ember Island by eating at some fancy restaurant – and Aang knows that the material swathed around her skin is worth a hefty amount. He pulls her into the water anyway, snaking his tail around her legs like he’d done the first day they met.

“Do you have to go,” Aang mouths against her shoulder, snuffling.

Toph nods, tightening her arms around his neck. “I’ll come back. Don’t cry on me now, idiot.”

She’s sopping wet when she returns back to the beach house (“That was an expensive dress,” Azula hisses, snatching Toph’s wrist and dragging her up the stairs to find a new one—) and her chest feels heavier, buried under the weight of saltwater. 

‘

(Aang sings out to her when she leaves the island and it has her eyes stinging behind her shades until his bereft voice fades from her head altogether.) 

‘

“You okay?”

“Zuko, you really need to stop asking me that.”

“It’s just—” Sighs, thinks of what to say. “You’re always…studying. You never want to go out with us anymore.”

“What, is it a crime to study now?”

“No, it’s like you’re forcing yourself to keep busy. You’ve been like this since we left Ember Island. What the hell happened there?”

“Hate to break it to you, but most kids get depressed when their summer breaks end. It’s no big deal.” 

‘

The shower in Toph’s apartment has a tub built into it and she’s never really had any use for it in the past. These days, she’s grown comfortable with filling the tub with water and just letting herself sink into it.

She slouches to bury her nose into the water, inhales to feel the sting—

And there’s no beautiful song that curls gently around Toph’s skin. There’s no salt in the water that she’s grown so used to smelling. There are no scales slipping against her legs.

“Fuck,” Toph murmurs because she hates this, hates feeling this way. 

‘

When Toph hears him one December afternoon, just a whisper at the back of her mind, she pivots off the street and walks until her cane is tapping against sand. There are a few others on the beach in spite of the weather, but his dulcet hymn leads her farther and farther away from the general public. She stops at a patch of large rocks, her heart skipping at the sound of a tail splashing.

“You stupid, stupid fish,” Toph says, but she’s smiling so wide that it actually hurts. The answer she receives is a happy trill, the noise echoing that of a friendly dolphin. “There are people here.”

“I found an alcove nearby,” Aang lifts his hand from the water, wiggling his fingers at her. “Come with me? No one will find us there.”  

“How did you even find me?” And, fucking hell, navigating through these jagged rocks is really something Toph should not be doing, but she finds his hand halfway and tangles their fingers together.

“Sokka helped me figure out where China was. Oh, he wants to meet you by the way! He thinks you’re cool.”

“For a human?”

“In general,” Aang says, sounding so happy. “But yeah, for a human too.”

Aang carefully lures her into the water and it’s fucking cold, but he’s pressing warm kisses to her mouth, so much that she doesn’t mind that she’s wholly surrounded by the sea in the dead of winter.

[sheerfreesia007]

Fallin’ All In You (Pt. 49)

Title: Fallin’ All In You (Pt. 49)

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x Reader

Author: @sheerfreesia007​​

Words: 1,631

Warnings: Smut, Breeding kink, mention of injury

Tags: @synystersilenceinblacknwhite​, @two-unbeatable-beaters​, @randomness501​, @sevvysaurus​, @paryl​, @fioccodineveautunnale​, @talesfromtheguild​, @secretsihideinside​, @agingerindenial​

Permanent Tag List: @paintballkid711​

Author Notes: We’re back in the smut my dears. This was refreshing to write, it’s been a week or so since I’ve written Jack so it was nice to come back to this. Feedback is always appreciated and welcome!

Gif Credit: @claramaximoff​

         You felt the sweat slowly sliding down the side of your face and huffed out a harsh breath. Your hands held the elastic band that was hooked around your right ankle and pulled the band towards you making your right knee bend up towards you. Breathing through the slight ache in your knee you silently held the position for a count of five before letting it fall back down to the ground. Slowly you flexed your toes upward and then relaxed them back down stretching out the sore muscles under your skin.

         Today had been bad day for your knee. It had started this morning waking up with the muscles surrounding your knee tense and aching. During the day it had only gotten worse as you tried to walk on it to stretch the muscles but they had only tensed up further. Your medication to ease the muscles hadn’t even worked when you took it with your lunch.

         This stretching exercises were your last hail mary to ease the aching muscles before you called your physical therapist for any aid they could give you. Sitting there in the living room of the apartment you stared over to the floor to ceiling windows and sighed softly. The view was breath taking and you don’t think you’d ever get used to it.

         Just as you were lost in your thoughts you didn’t hear the apartment door open and Jack walked in silently. When he came to stand right at the juncture of the hallway and the living room he just stood there silently watching you. He watched as you grimaced lightly and idly massage the muscles around your right knee.

         “Everything alright darlin’?” Jack asked kindly and you jumped in surprise whipping your head over to him and Jack smiled softly at you.

         “Yeah just a bad day with the old knee.” You said easily and Jack walked over to you and held his hands out to help you up from the floor.

         “I hope you’re not over doing it today.” He said softly and you shook your head.

         “I’m not it’s just been very sore and achy today.” You explained as you stood in front of him. “I took my medicine to see if that would help but nothing has helped it yet. These exercises were a last ditch effort.” You said shrugging your shoulders as you swiped your cane from the coffee table and looked up at Jack.

         “I just don’t want you to over exert yourself.” He said softly as he cupped your cheek and leaned down to press a soft kiss to your lips. You smiled cheekily up at him when he pulled away.

         “I know my own body Jack I know what I need to do to make sure I get better.” You said easily and turned from him to walk into the kitchen to pull your dinner out of the oven.

         “Oh I know you do darlin’ I just worry about you and want to make sure you’re fully healed.” He said as he followed behind you setting his Stetson on the hat rack in the living room.

         “Goodness what are you going to be like if we ever get pregnant.” You said out loud but more to yourself than to him. Jack felt himself tense as he heard your words and desire instantly flooded his body. What would he be like if you were pregnant with his child? He’d probably just as bad as he was now knowing that you would growing his child within you. Suddenly the desire to see you pregnant with his child consumed him and let out a low growl before he stalked over to the kitchen. You weren’t paying attention to him and had your back to him.

         He silently entered the kitchen and crowded you against the counter placing his hands on either side of you on the counter top. Pressing his front to your back he heard your soft gasp as he knew you felt his erection dig into your ass. He ground his hips against your ass and groaned lowly into your ear as he nipped at your ear lobe.

         “What did you say darlin’?” he questioned lowly and you moaned softly as you pressed your ass back against his hips.

         “You heard me.” You said stubbornly and Jack growled against your neck before sucking a hickey into the skin. He lapped his tongue against the mark and ground his hips back up into you.

         “God you would be gorgeous as you carried my baby.” He crooned to you and you moaned lowly as your head fell back against his shoulder. Jack let his hands slip from the counter top to the waist band of your jeans. You shivered in his arms as his hands trailed over to the front of your jeans and easily undid them before sliding them down your legs. “Step out darlin’.” He commanded you and you obeyed easily making Jack preen with the knowledge that you’d follow his guidance. Jack groaned loudly when he saw your purple satin underwear covering your ass. His hand immediately came up to grope you and you gasped softly as his movement jolted you forward. “You alright darlin’?” he asked softly and you nodded your head quickly.

         “Yeah just wasn’t expecting it that’s all.” You said easily and Jack smiled widely down at you.

         “Don’t think I can make it to the bedroom darlin’. That alright?” he crooned lowly to you and nodded your head again.

         “Yeah here’s fine.” You said softly as you pressing your ass further into Jack’s hands. Sliding his fingers into your underwear he quickly slipped it down over your hips and let it fall the rest of the way to your ankles.

         “Fuck darlin’.” Jack husked out in a raspy voice as you stared at you before is hands fell to his zipper and button. He quickly released his hardened dick and held it in his hand for a moment, lust was racing through him and he couldn’t help but enjoy the view of you with your bottom half naked and revealed to him waiting for his next move. You had leaned over the counter top and braced your arms there so that all your weight wouldn’t be on your legs. Jack pumped himself once before he slid up behind you letting his dick slide against your slick core.

         Jack watched in awe as you flung your head back in ecstasy presenting your neck stretched out and a sinful moan escaping your throat. His hands slid to grip your hips as he mindlessly slid in his dick against your core ramping up both of your arousal until it caught fire and consumed you both.

         “Jack, now. Fuck me now.” You panted out and Jack nodded his head and dipped his hips to let his dick slide slowly into you. “Oh shit.” You gasped out as he slid deep inside of you and then held there. He watched as you shook your head quickly and your hips jerked back towards him. “Please, please Jack.” You chanted in a raspy voice that made Jack’s thighs clench in desire.

         “Gonna let me fuck you til you’re pregnant?” Jack asked lowly and watched as his words flowed over you making you whimper and begin to shake.

         “Please, wanna have your baby.” You panted out and Jack groaned before pulling out to the tip and then slamming back in. You whimpered as Jack’s arm slid around your waist and held you close as he began thrusting into you at an almost unforgivable pace.

         “Fuck darlin’, you know just what to say to get me all riled up for you.” He grunted out as he kept his hips close and thrusted his hips hard against your ass. You pressed back into him and keened loudly feeling your arousal clench low in your stomach. “Lord knows I wanna see you pregnant with our baby. You’d be such a good mom, always looking out for me and the little one.” He panted as he thrust harshly into you.

         “Oh Jack, shit!” you hissed out and Jack moaned loudly as he felt your walls begin to close around him. “How many you gasped out?” and Jack whipped his head to look at you confused for a second before you repeated your question. “How many kids do you want cowboy?” Moaning low in his throat Jack picked up the pace of his thrusts.

         “At least two.” He grunted out and slammed his hips against yours pressing deep into your core. Jack grunted again when he felt your walls clutch him tightly and you moaned sinfully as you flung your head back against his shoulder. Jack turned your head to him and kissed you deeply sliding his tongue against your bottom lip. “Fuck darlin’ as many as you wanna have.” He gasped out softly as he parted from your mouth. Your orgasm washed over you and you gasped into the air your hands clutching at the counter top as you fell over into the abyss of ecstasy. Jack grunted as he pressed deeper into you and felt his own orgasm blaze over him.

         It took the two of you a little bit of time to come to your senses and Jack slowly eased out you and helped you redress. As he slid your jeans back up your legs he pressed a soft kiss to your right knee when he saw the large scar on it from your surgery. When he came to stand in front of you he saw the wide warm smile on your face and cocked an eyebrow at you silently.

         “Two’s a good number.” You said cheekily and Jack laughed loudly before wrapping you in his arms and kissing you deeply.

[izaswritings]

Title: team tactics

Fandom: RWBY

Synopsis: In Atlas, it's easy to fall into a routine, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't shake it up a bit every now and then.

(Or: in which Oscar ignores his problems, team JNR are darlings trying to solve a problem, and Ozpin is Sir Not Appearing In This Fic but is felt, like, in spirit or something. Trust is a funny business.)

Notes: Takes place mid-volume 7, before everything started spiraling.

AO3 Link is here.

.

Oscar is always the first to wake up, out of the four of them—years on the farm have conditioned him for early rising, and Atlas hours are at times almost early for him. Most days Oscar will open his eyes to pitch black and watch the ceiling, savoring the quiet, listening to the even breaths of his team. There is a comfort in knowing they are there, that they are sleeping peacefully, and Oscar basks in it.

Nora is always the next awake, and once she is up the others have no chance; Nora for the life of her cannot get dressed quietly, and Jaune has a habit of falling out of his bunk when startled, even though he’s in one of the lowest ones. Oscar, who has a top bunk and delights in the extra height, laughs at the routine and rolls over, bringing the blankets with him. He is the first to get up and the last to get ready—always unwilling to brace the Atlas chill, sharp and biting. Today is no different than any of the others. Oscar pulls the blankets up tight over his shoulders—brr, cold wind, why does Ren insist on leaving the window open—and watches the others get ready, blinking slowly as his mind finally starts up.

The sky outside their window is pitch dark, but already Oscar can see the creep of dawn.

He yawns into his hand and pushes himself upright. “What are you guys doing today?”

Nora bounces over to his bunk and hooks her arms over the edge, pillowing her face. “I have no idea! Usually, missions are nothing weird. But then, things usually go weird?” Her smile gets bright and evil. “Want to find out?”

Oscar considers it, then sighs. “Yes.” He turns and throws his legs over the side. “But I think I have stuff to do today, too…”

“Bor-ring!”

Oscar rubs at his hair and grins at her. “I’ll go to the mission room with you guys, though. Um. I-if that’s allowed?”

Nora brightens at the compromise, leaning back to pump both fists in the air. “The team is complete!” she bellows, and rockets back upright with both hands on her hips. “But bring your coat, yeah? That room can get chilly if you don’t watch it!”

Oscar rolls his eyes and slips out of bed. “I’m getting better about holding my aura.”

Ren, strapping on the pieces of his armor, turns from the closet to smile at him. “We know,” he says, and then immediately undercuts it by holding out Oscar’s coat anyway. “But maintaining aura to block out the cold can be draining, especially if you’re not used to using it all the time yet. Save it for when you’re training. That way you can practice on doing both—deflecting attacks, and the chill.”

Oscar takes the coat, unable to argue with the logic. “Still…”

“You’ve practically got it down already,” Jaune says, from across the room. “You’ll see. A few more weeks and it’ll be easy.” He’s staring mournfully at a mirror, and the bedhead sticking all the sides of his hair straight up. He tries to brush it down. His attempt is a dismal failure. “Why did no one warn me that short hair meant extreme bedhead?”

Oscar and Nora, both with their own short-hair bedhead, exchange glances.

“Don’t judge me. Oh my god, I can feel you judging me. Go away?”

Nora laughs loud and mocking, and turns to clap Oscar on the shoulder. “Hey, what are you doing today, then, if not hanging out with us?”

“Oh.” Oscar pauses, halfway through lacing his boots. He braces himself. “Um. Well. Training with Ironwood.”

There is a pause in the conversation. The easy banter has briefly broken. Ren has stilled from the corner of his eyes. Nora frowns. Oscar keeps his eyes on his boots, and pretends he can’t see the glances being exchanged over his head.

The hesitation only lasts a second. Nora throws herself down to sit beside him; Jaune leans back against the wall, lips pressed in thought. “The old ‘awakening Oz’ stuff, huh.”

“Yeah.”

Another pause. More glances. Oscar finishes lacing his boot and looks up, shaking his head. “Guys.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Nora nudges him with her arm. “We just worry, y’know? I mean, training is awesome, but you aren’t really training to train, so…”

Ren, his armor laced up, walks over to them. “Every day does seem sort of overkill,” he hedges, quietly. “If Oz hasn’t responded yet thus far, I don’t think more training will make much difference…”

Oscar frowns down at his hands. “I know you guys are still upset with him,” he says, closing his hand to a fist. “I… I am, too. But having him back—”

“I mean, yeah!” Nora says, cutting him off, and knocks Oscar with her shoulder, shaking him slightly. “But that’s not what we mean—not what I mean, anyway.” She gives a narrow-eyed look to Jaune and Ren; both raise their hands and nod rapidly. Nora looks smug. “Not what we mean. Like, Oz is whatever, but…”

She trails off, looking uncertain. Jaune takes over. “It makes you twitchy?” he says, half a question. “Uh, feel free to say I’m wrong but… you always seem so frustrated afterward. And, all this time trying to wake up Oz, I mean, you don’t seem to get a lot of chances to do things for… you? Y’know?” He pauses. “Um. I could. Totally be wrong, though.”

Oscar stares at his hands. He curls into himself, and tugs at the hem of his gloves. He thinks about it. Every day, every hour. Training, training. Ironwood is kind, and patient… but Oscar has noticed, more and more each day, at the end of every training bout without results, the flash of disappointment on the General’s face like a blow.

He has to force the words through his teeth, but he says them. “You… aren’t wrong.”

“Oh!” Jaune says. Then his shoulders slump. “Oh.”

There’s another silence, heavier this time. Nora’s expression is tight, her eyes dark. Ren leans down to place a hand on Oscar’s shoulder. His touch is warm, strangely grounding. “I know why you and General Ironwood think awakening Oz is important,” he says, gravely. “But taking time to do things that you want to do is equally important. You are your own person.”

Oscar tilts his head up, his smile wry. “Still Oz, though,” he mutters back. “Soon, maybe that's all I’ll…”

“I do not believe that,” Ren says, cutting Oscar off, and he says it so suddenly and so fiercely that all three of them stop to stare at him. “I refuse to believe that your life—that you would be erased. Oz is a liar, but I never thought of him as cruel. Perhaps you’ll have more memories than before—different references, new experience. But you will still be you. And—and if that is not the case, then we will fight it with you. If you must become Oz, then we will make sure you become your kind of Oz. You are you, Oscar. Nobody else.”

For a long moment, no one says anything. Jaune unhinges his jaw first. “Holy shit, Ren.”

“Wow,” Oscar agrees.

“Exactly,” Nora says, looking delighted. She smacks Ren on the arm—Ren, who has turned bright red and is looking away from the abrupt attention—and then turns back to Oscar with a wicked grin. “Maybe old-man-professor-Oz is snoozing, but you’re cute-boy-Oz! Your own Oz! Make it one of a kind!” She pumps a fist, creating a small shock-wave in the air. “And if Ironwood can’t see that, we’ll break his knees!”

“I’m sure Ironwood sees it similarly,” Ren demures, and Oscar pushes past his flash of momentary doubt to nod agreement, not wanting to ruin the rising glow of warmth in his chest. “But yes, back to our original point—you can take a day off, you know.”

“Before we continue, I want to point out that we are talking about Oz like he’s a status or title or something, okay, fact pointed out, done now.”

“Jaune!”

“What? We were!”

“You—”

Oscar starts laughing.

They all stop to stare at him, and he leans down over his knees and tries in vain to stop from cackling. His stomach hurts.

“Oh my god, we broke him.”

Oscar snickers into his glove and lifts his head, rubbing away a few hysterical tears from his eyes. “No, no, I’m—I’m fine.” He swallows down another giggle, grinning. “I’m—curious about Mantle, actually. And I do need to work on maintaining my Aura…” He turns to Nora and Ren. “If you head back to wall duty, could I…?”

Ren smiles at him. “Of course.”

“About time we hang out some!” Nora claps his back, nearly pitching Oscar to the floor. “I’ll teach you how to braid! We’ll kill awful monsters! Laugh at Jaune getting accosted by casseroles!”

“I’ve gotten six so far…”

“And if Ironwood says no, we’ll break his knees!”

Ren sighs. “No one’s breaking anyone’s knees, Nora.”

“Gosh, you guys are no fun today.”

Oscar tugs on his last boot and takes up the cane—the Long Memory a comforting weight in his hands. He turns the weapon in his palm, looking at the shine of the cane in the light, then collapses it and hooks it to his back, standing with a smile. “Do we at least have time for some coffee?” A craving that is not quite his own flashes through him. He keeps smiling. “Or, um, cocoa?”

“Cocoa? Cocoa-coffee?” Nora slings an arm around his shoulders. “Hell yes!”

“It’s called a mocha, Nora.”

“We have coffee pots,” Nora continues, looking delighted by her own idea. “We have hot chocolate packets. Let’s do this thing. Hand-made mocha for everyone!”

Ren follows after them. “Um, I’m not sure dumping a cocoa packet in coffee will achieve the same effect—”

“It’s cocoa and coffee,” Jaune insists back, “how could it taste bad—”

The door to their dorm closes behind them, a quiet click. Oscar lets his friends—his team, maybe, he thinks, with a glow rising in his chest—lead him on to the briefing room, half-listening to the words but mostly just basking in the warmth, and ducks his head with a quiet smile.

You didn’t trust them, Oz. Maybe you just couldn’t.

Nora laughs. Jaune is smiling. Ren is a solid presence at their backs, comforting in his quiet.

But I do.

No answer. Nothing at all. But Oscar opens his eyes, his smile unfaltering, and knows, whatever happens next, that for now this moment is all that matters.

[caddy-whump-us]

Finally got Etienne fitted with that leg brace. I guess that makes bad things better. Maybe. Hey, @voidwhump! Get slurpin'!

This is more angst and character stuff than "typical" whump, but I do love me some angst. Also, there’s a trip in the near future for all the lads, so that’s exciting too. Stay tuned.

For reference, I was looking at these two leg braces. (Having done some research, I'm now like 98% sure there's a fetish related to Victorian/vintage leg braces, which I didn't know about before. I don't want to yuck someone else's yum, I'd just like to thank them for sharing photographs for the sake of my whump writing. )

---

There was a fire in the grate, but less for the warmth than to stave off the damp. It had been raining all day and now, with the household awake with nightfall, a storm was sweeping in.

They were in the library--not the grand library, but the small library, the study. It was darker here, warmer in an almost human way. The grand library was for show (so of course that would be where Viktor would display Etienne along with other parts of his collection) but the small library was for true work. Viktor was at his desk and writing diligently. Etienne he had set in an armchair before the fire with his ruined leg resting on a footstool. Etienne slouched and dangled his hands over the arms of the chair. Viktor paid no mind.

There was a knock at the door and even Etienne turned to see who would trouble this quiet room on a night like this.

"Come."

The candles flickered and swayed when Lucien opened the door. His shirtcollar was undone again. For all that he would dutifully wear his master's livery day after day, he never quite wore it as it was intended: this undone, that unlaced, the sleeves rolled. Perhaps they all rebelled in their own ways.

Except that, if he was to be believed, Lucien came willingly into this house.

His eyes were shining like moonstones again in the candlelight. "The doctor is here, my lord." And he held the door open to let the crow-masked doctor into the room before creeping away again.

Viktor set down his pen and laced his fingers together. The fire glittered in his eyes.

"To come on such a night," he said. "I hadn't expected it to turn worse. I kept waiting to hear you wouldn't be coming. How is the storm?"

"Settling in for a stay, by the looks of it," the doctor replied. "You seem more bothered by it than me. Does it keep you trapped inside?" A bird-like cock of the head.

Viktor said nothing for a moment, holding the crow-mask in a cold look, then turned to look toward where Etienne was slumped and sullen in the armchair. "Some of us feel more trapped than others, I think, even when the truth is otherwise."

"Oh, now now, my lord. He can still be called a convalescent for the moment. He's not yet malingering." A pause. "Yet."

Viktor said nothing, only took up his pen again, but he did not yet turn back to his work.

"Now then," the doctor said.

"Use the table there, if you like," Viktor said, pointing to one not so far from where Etienne sat.

Etienne, for his part, was looking into the fire.

The doctor came to him and patted at his arm. "Come now." And he turned to Viktor. "He does look miserable. But we'll have him on his feet soon."

Etienne snorted and turned away.

"But we will, dear boy. The cobbler, the brass-worker, the tanner--they've all been hard at work for you."

"Along with the butcher, the baker, and the candlestick-maker, I suppose."

The doctor pulled back. "There's no call to be rude, no matter how bad you might feel."

Etienne scoffed again. "Every time you visit, I feel worse."

The doctor grabbed him by the shoulder and Etienne turned to be nose to nose with the crow mask.

"Don't forget that I fed you from the poppies. I have heard the screams of those who have not been afforded such a mercy, and you were nearly one of those. Now get up for me."

Etienne did, shaken but still sullen. His crutch was leaned against the side of the chair and he stumbled up to stand as well as he could, and less well today than on drier days.

The doctor had set a black case, nearly a trunk, on the table. The hat, the coat, the mask all but blocked Etienne's view of what was in the trunk as the doctor opened it. Something gleamed. The doctor laid something out on the table. Viktor rose to inspect it and even Etienne tried to glimpse it from over the doctor's shoulder.

"Your thoughts, my lord?"

"I think we ought to ask Etienne."

The doctor turned to him with one hand outstretched and Etienne hobbled to the table.

Laid out on the table was a brace for his bad leg: a heavy shoe at the bottom, sitting in a kind of brass stirrup, jointed for his knee, and secured with brass and leather belts. Etienne stared at it as Viktor and the doctor spoke around him.

"A rather complicated contraption, I admit, but the best that could be done, all things considered."

"Will he still need the crutch?"

"I should think not, so long as he's wearing the brace. He may want for a cane, though. For balance."

"He won't have one. He'd do better to learn how to walk again."

The doctor made an obsequious bow.

"Put it on him. Let's see if it improves on the crutch."

The doctor bowed again then pointed at Etienne's foot. "Take that off. You won't need that one anymore. You have a new shoe to wear."

Etienne hobbled back to the armchair to take off his shoe and the doctor came to him bearing the contraption in both hands. It put Etienne in mind of scaffolding, brass scaffolding. He let fall the shoe.

The doctor opened the cage of the contraption, tossing straps and buckles out of the way. Etienne threaded his foot down towards the shoe; the doctor met him halfway and jammed the contraption onto him. Etienne gasped and pinched his eyes shut.

"Hush, now. It isn't so bad as that," the doctor said as they began closing up the brass plates around his ankle. He took out a brass pin, adjusted the length, set it again, sat back, adjusted again.

Etienne was fighting for balance in the midst of these adjustments. He staggered, and the doctor caught him by his good leg.

"If I could just--" and he reached toward where he had leaned his crutch against the chair.

"No more of that," Viktor said. He picked it up and carried it to his desk, laying it flat across the top. "No more need for that."

The doctor went on until he was content with the length of the brass that ran down inside and outside of Etienne's leg. He buckled the brass into place at his ankle then moved up to buckle the first leather cuff--but not only leather, as Etienne could already feel the brass or steel or boning in it. The doctor jerked it tight and it pressed just at a sore point in Etienne's shin. He cried out a little but the doctor hushed him.

"You'd best get used to it."

Etienne leaned hard on his good leg and bit at his lip while the doctor tightened the buckles.

"Now the knee," the doctor said, "It always a bit of a trick. How can one let it bend in the most natural way while still providing the necessary restriction?"

Etienne felt that last word, restriction, rattle in his chest.

"This, my lord, is why I sought out the help of a saddle-maker. Or, well, bridle-maker more specifically. This joint, here, has more in common with a horse's bit than one might assume."

Viktor stood by, watching, saying nothing.

"And here, if you will notice, we align the knee--" and Etienne whined again "--with what might be thought of as a saddle on the knee and the girth behind it."

And the doctor buckled the whole into place, tightened it, but then turned another brass piece up from the back of the leg, from the cuff he'd finished buckling already.

"Obviously, though, there needs to be a bit more support. Therefore--are you following all of this, dear boy? You'll need to if you're to dress yourself. Therefore, we attach this curved brace to the sides of the knee so as to prevent the knee from bending backwards."

"I've not had that problem," Etienne said.

The doctor stopped and turned their beaked mask up to him. "Then perhaps you would like to continue without me."

Etienne looked aside and was quiet.

"No? Very well then." And he hooked the half-hoop around the back of Etienne's knee, a kind of stint to hold his knee in place.

"Now, as per your suggestions, my lord, I have decided to continue this brace up nearly to the hip so as to provide as much structure for this leg as is possible, especially as he begins to walk again. In this instance, as you can likely see, I employed a corset-maker."

The doctor was whipping the lacing out of the last cuff on the brace, high on Etienne's leg, before wrapping the leather around and lacing it up again. They tugged and pulled, shifted the lacing, tightened it down, and tied it off.

The doctor sat back on their heels and considered not Etienne but only his leg.

"Well, it's on. But I'll need to make a few adjustments." And he took out a small kit of tools from the trunk on the table.

Etienne had turned his face up towards the dark ceiling. His knee was pulled too straight and the parts of his shin and leg that ached worst when he tried to sleep or when, like tonight, it rained were aching but with a sharpness he'd not felt since his leg was newly broken.

"It's quite an elaborate construction," Viktor said.

The doctor was punching a new hole in one of the straps to tighten it further. Etienne gasped again when he closed the buckle again.

"He did quite a lot of damage to his leg, my lord," the doctor replied.

Etienne cast a cold, hard look at Viktor. But Viktor's face was still placid, curious at the brace and the procedure of fitting it.

The doctor sat back of their heels again.

"Better," they said. "But even with that much brass--there are plates and rods in the leather you see, my lord--the leather may be inclined to stretch. Permit me to return in a week to make any more adjustments?"

"Of course."

The doctor bowed their head and began to collect their tools.

"Well, sweet boy?" Viktor said. "Perhaps you'd like to take a turn about the room."

Etienne looked toward the chair in front of the fire, only a few steps away. The doctor was leaning against the table and watching. Viktor, too, was watching with one finger idly at his mouth.

So Etienne took a step, first with his good leg then, hesitantly and stiffly, with his braced leg. His foot in the shoe of the brace tipped into place flatly, inelegantly, slapping on the floor. If it was better than the crutch it was not much better.

His knee still felt strained and the cuff on his shin made him ache worse now that he was standing on his braced leg. Wincing, he tried to bend his knee back into place, tried to turn his foot to ease the ache.

"The brass is there to realign your leg, you know," the doctor called. "Let it do what it is intended to do." And as they turned back to the trunk: "A lesson a great many of us could learn."

Etienne was reaching for the chair with his braced leg straining. He lifted his good leg and moved it, balancing for a moment only on his braced leg. He took a step. Then another--an easier one; he had long been balancing on his good leg with the crutch. Two steps more, good and bad, and he reached the wing of the armchair and clutched at it.

He stood there, leaning there, lifting his braced leg to test the knee, the ankle, to see how well he could walk if he could just practice long enough. Perhaps he could walk up and down the long dining room. Perhaps along the garden paths. With enough practice perhaps he would even be able, despite this leather and brass contraption, to run again.

"The knee swings too easily," the doctor said and came at the brace with a tool like a knife. He tightened up the joint and Etienne groaned through his teeth again.

Suddenly Viktor was there behind him, squeezing at his neck and shoulders with his long, cold hands. "Do you see? You cannot escape. Even after you've healed, you cannot escape. Even with everything you might need to walk again, you will not be able to run from me."