#assorted snippets

[assortedcriminality]

snippet #6

contains: blood, cursing

Hero lay on their back, breathing shallowly as blood leaked in a thin stream through their crimson-stained fingers, adding to a growing pool beneath them. If they had to rank every stab wound they’d received, this one would be at the very bottom. Their eyes were shut tight, the electric pain radiating from their stomach so great that they couldn’t sense when someone else entered the grimy alley.

A nudge to their side made Hero’s eyes fly open, immediately locking contact with the pitying gaze of the perpetrator. “God, you look awful,” Villain said. The sharp sting that the nudge sparked through their body had Hero let out a low groan, but they couldn’t attempt to move. “Oh, come on. Aren’t you going to get up and hit me?”

“The knife was poisoned, you asshole,” Hero managed to rasp through gritted teeth. “I can’t feel my legs.”

Their nemesis crossed their arms. “Hmph. How unsportsmanlike. Who did that, then?”

“Your friend, Other Villain. They said they had information about Supervillain.” The idea seemed so stupid now, the trap obvious. This was what Hero got for choosing to trust a criminal. Though they couldn’t say they had learned anything, as the devious mastermind that stood above them was probably the person they trusted most in the city. 

“First of all, they are absolutely not my friend,” Villain objected. “They’re a conniving, backstabbing bastard. You should’ve called me.”

“A bit late for that, don't you think?” Hero’s voice came out higher, more strained with each word.

The criminal leaned over, studying them with a quick, sweeping look. “Can you walk yet?”

“Do you think I’m lying here for fun?” They snapped. “No, I can’t walk!”

Villain tapped a finger to their chin in mock deliberation. “What a predicament we find ourselves in, my dear Hero. I suppose there is no other recourse but for me to carry you.” 

“No—Villain, wait, Villain-” This time, when Villain reached their hands behind Hero’s back and knees, the touch didn’t immediately spark pain. It wasn’t until they swiftly lifted the crimefighter into their arms that agony seared like a white-hot brand in Hero’s side. They cried out, choking on a scream that became a hoarse cough. The feeling overloaded their senses, turning their nerves into nothing but conduits for pain as Hero sank into their nemesis’ strong grasp, head falling onto Villain’s chest. 

“Hero. Hero, look at me. Look at me.” The sudden intensity of their voice sharpened Hero’s focus, if only a little, and allowed their unfocused gaze to meet Villain’s again. “Jesus, you look like shit.” But an edge of fear was creeping into their tone, something that would have alarmed Hero even further had they been closer to coherence.  

Hero was no longer capable of opening their mouth, let alone providing a vocal response. Villain seemed to understand them anyway. “Stay with me, Hero,” they murmured, and both nemeses braced as best they could as Villain turned around and hurried out of the alley. 

word count: 501

@sausages-things

[addiepaca]

#01 Blue Hour Talks

“Are you an idiot?” Medic glared at the Villain, their eyes slightly narrowed while they wrapped a bandage on the other’s arm. “What?” The Villain, slightly baffled at the sudden jab that broke the peaceful silence. They had hoped to at least get some slack after the disastrous fight in the warehouse last night. Bags clearly visible under their eyes after barely getting any sleep for the past few weeks and their body riddled with fresh cuts and bruises.

“Did you really let the Hero beat you because they seemed ‘under the weather’?” They tighten the bandage around their arm, causing some tension in their already strained muscles. “I did not, I just didn’t want to fight a sick hero,” Villain cleared their throat. The two had been throwing punches like usual when the Hero’s eyes seemed hazy, their breathing uneven and their face slightly paler than usual. Their moves were also lacking the typical force and precision, the Villain dodging every blow with ease it was almost laughable. Though the thought seemed to churn the Villain’s stomach with an uncomfortable feeling. Probably pity or something.

“Right, whatever helps you sleep better.”

Medic finished wrapping up their arm and leaned back on their seat, crossing their legs. Turning their attention to what the Villain assumed was their patient file. Villain scoffed lightly, pulling down the sleeve to cover their arm and rolling their eyes. “You know I’m really not appreciating your judgmental comments,” they sneered, brows furrowing as they rested their chin on their hand, pouting like a petulant child.

“I don’t get paid enough to keep those comments to myself,” Medic didn’t look up from the stack of papers in their hands, noting something down with barely readable handwriting on one of the pages. “You don’t get paid for this at all,” Villain retorted.

Medic finally shifted their gaze and groaned, hitting Villain on the head with their own file which made the other gasp in disbelief. “You’re right, it’s charity work. Be grateful I’m even listening to your nonsense,” Medic grumbled. Throwing the papers on their lap for them to read later. “Oh shut it,” they muttered under their breath.

It’s not like the Villain cared or anything, they just happened to be a considerate person. Besides, what good would beating a sick hero be? It’ll be too easy, too boring and definitely not worth their time. Villain had better things to do than prolonging the fight that night, like getting a few minutes of sleep before inevitably failing to get some rest. Eventually dragging themselves to the infirmary to treat the wounds they had been too lazy acknowledge.

“Really, how long are you going to keep this up?” Medic sighed, their eyes scanning over them with a thinly veiled exasperation. Villain, sprawled up on the patient bed with arms folded across their chest raised a brow at the vague question. “Keep what up?”

Medic made a strange gesture with their hands. “This ‘thing’ with the hero,” Swirling their left hand around unceremoniously while scrutinizing the Villain, their face almost looked annoyed. That fact, for whatever reason, made Villain just as irritated. Why couldn’t people mind their own business anymore?

“There is no ‘thing’ between us,” Villain said with a stern tone. Leaving no room for interjections as they glared at Medic. If they were allowed to punch medical personnel on company time, this ridiculous conversation wouldn’t even be happening right now. Medic pursed their lips with a sceptical expression on their face.

“Right,” they replied.

“Right.”

A moment of silence passed over them, as if to let the words sink in before Medic started persisting again.“So there’s nothing going on between you two?” They tilted their head in curiosity like a cat. Villain fought the urge to roll their eyes and rubbed their temples instead, surprisingly taking a second to think before answering. “Other than the usual hatred and disgust, no.” The other hummed in acknowledgement, nodding as they took in the Villain’s reply. “So if the Hero were to start seeing someone else, you wouldn’t mind?” 

The sudden hypothetical caught the Villain’s attention, making them flinch and glare at their sibling, dumbfounded. “What kind of question is that?!” Their voice slightly raised, though they didn’t mean to come off as harsh, the provoking question just irked them. Medic scoffed, a mocking smile playing on their lips as they brushed off their aggression. “Just answer it,” they urged. 

Villain bristled at the smug look on their face, weighing the consequences of knocking them out right now. “I don’t care who they see or don’t see, they’re not important to me.” They lied, the thought of it brought some discomfort to the Villain. After all, who has time for relationships when you’re busy fighting crime? Why would you not devote your utmost attention to your enemy? It’s absurd to think their the Hero would start to stop paying their attention to the Villain in favor of their spouse. The Villain had almost forgotten the fact that the question was a hypothetical.

“Okay,” Medic raised their hands in the air in a defeated gesture while averting their gaze. The corners of their lips twitching to hide a smile, undoubtedly. They leaned back in their chair again, quietly reaching out for the TV remote on the nearby desk. “You don’t believe me,” the words came out from the Villain’s mouth as more of a statement than a question. It wasn’t particularly hard to tell when Medic didn’t believe their half-assed lies. The derisive tone seemed to run in the family after all.

The TV screen lights up the dimly lit room, causing the Villain’s eye to twitch as they adjusted to the brightness. “I believe you, I’m not sure if you believe yourself,” Medic feigned indifference as they casually propped their feet on the bed. “Shut up,” Villain remarked. Kicking their feet away with a grumble, earning an annoyed scoff from Medic. 

“At least say thank you for patching you up,” they pressed the buttons on the remote, rapidly switching between channels while humming. The Villain slumped on their bed, stretching their bandaged arm carefully, almost forgetting the fact that their body hurt like hell. “No.”

Medic turned their head towards them and huffed out an annoyed breath. “Say thank you or I’m telling mum you ended up in the clinic again.”

“Why do you always pull that card?” Villain had the urge to throw them out of the room, but relented given their threat. Which they knew wasn’t a bluff. “Because it always works,” Medic shrugged as if it was a common fact. 

Villain groaned and leaned their head against the headboard, running their hands through their ruffled hair. “Thanks, happy now?” they gave in. Secretly fearing the wrath of a certain woman who they haven’t called in a month.

“Good enough,” Medic smiled smugly. Putting away the remote after settling on the news channel, one of the few that was interesting enough to capture their attention.

“Freak,” Villain muttered under their breath.

“Loser,” Medic replied.

The news flashed a clip of various heroes being awarded a few days ago, smiling and waving to the locals. Their hero inching closer to a certain rookie who hadn’t even been in the business for a year, hand in hand as they laughed softly together, lost in their own world. The Villain clenched their jaw.

part 2

[heliza24]

I’m currently reading Blood and Gold and thinking about Marius falling in love with Botticelli. As a general rule, Marius falls in love with children (or people with the current mental state of children) or with adults who challenge his sense of removed stoicism by the passion they evoke in him. When that happens, Marius almost always removes himself. He never lets himself really fight for a Avicus’s favor over Mael, and he leaves Pandora, despite loving her and missing her for centuries, when she becomes too much of a challenge for him (this is after initially falling in love with her when she is a child, of course). And although he’s overwhelmed by Botticelli’s talent and enamored with him personally, he resists the urge to turn him into a vampire because that kind of show of passion would be unwise.

And then there’s Armand, who is a child and is therefore completely beholden to Marius, and who also evokes challenging feelings in Marius, much like Pandora or Bottecilli did, in his desire to be loved by Marius. So much of the abusive language that Marius uses towards Armand makes sense in this light. There’s a lot of “I hate that I love you and the way that I love you, look what you make me do to you” type language in The Vampire Armand. Marius finally lets himself indulge in that tempestuous passio that he normally tries so hard to tamp down. But of course, when he finally lets those feelings out, it’s with a child who he ultimately totally controls. He couldn’t let him himself love Botticelli as equals, so instead he chooses Armand, the Botticelli muse, and loves him like a work of art. Marius loves Armand with the same zealous furver as he loves paintings. And even though he eventually takes Armand back to his home country once Marius has given in and made him a vampire, Marius never encourages Armand to pick up the painting of his youth again. Because then Armand would be a fellow artist, not just a muse, and he would be too much of his equal for Marius to abide.  

[deepfriedtrout]

local woman has the eating habits of a financially struggling college graduate and entire small town will NOT let that one slide.

includes an absurd amount of cheese, homecooked meals to make you cry thinking of your childhood ala ratatouille style, and vila going deepsea diving and catching a halibut with her bare hands. not in that order (i haven't written any of those things yet)

[oversphere-originals]

original: animelia

alright, so this wouldn't be an actual writing blog if i didn't start off by talking about the literal oldest world i have ever created on my own.

this thing goes all the way back to when i was like.... eight years old, and playing pretend with my younger brother in our backyard using sticks as swords. we made up stories and went on adventures (i usually played myself and also all the npcs we encountered, though we didn't call them that then because we were eight) in worlds like Camp Half-Blood, Hogwarts, and any other interesting story we'd both read recently, which was a lot because we both read a lot back then. but because we were two homeschooled kids with undiagnosed but heavily suspected ADHD and parents who encouraged Being Outside instead of playing computer games all the time, that was never enough - so we made up our own worlds.

and by we, i mostly mean me.

animelia was one of the very first worlds i ever created. i distinctly remember being maybe, what, twelve? and sitting under the swingset in the backyard, feet in the dirty sandbox below it, with my brother, and drawing out the "map of the world" we were playing in. it got its start there, and then i forgot it for years during high school because i thought it was cringe, and now in recent years i've re-embraced the cringe and started updating this to become an actual story once again.

so here's the deal with my animelia story!

Animelia is essentially a world that runs in a separate but connected dimension to ours, which used to be connected closely to Earth by way of dimensional portals called goldstreaks; however, An Event happened several hundred-plus years ago and the goldstreaks that once were kept open for travel have now been shut down, and only the occasional natural goldstreak portal opens up due to the positioning of the stars and thinning of dimensional walls and such. This means that travel between the two worlds is now practically nonexistent.

(originally, when i was a kid with a pencil and notebook paper drawing this world, it was a galaxy with every fragmented planet its own biome - a jungle planet, a desert planet, and so on, with goldstreak portals between planets. that's long since changed for multiple reasons (including a lot of college courses on ecology haha) but it was a fun start, honestly. we always set the goldstreak transporters by the gate to our backyard when we were playing games, because where else are you going to put it?)

While Earth's sentient/sapient population is primarily made up of humans, Animelia's is made up of a race known as nyms, who are more or less anthropomorphic animals. The specific animal they're an anthro version of is known as a morph, so you can be a mockingbird morph, a deer morph, and so on. Nyms have an inborn amount of magic, and while not everyone is able to do a lot of magic, everyone at least has the ability to shift forms into a "full-animal" version of their morph, which is inevitably significantly larger (and sometimes more unusually colored) than the Earth equivalent. There are big cities, travel, commerce and trade, and all kinds of politics and magic and stuff that I'll elaborate on later (as I figure it out too, haha) but generally it's a pretty standard level of fantasy-world-technology and such. Just...more animals.

Oh, and humans are basically fairytales, that's an important note. It's been so long since the goldstreaks were regularly held open by mages that they're considered legends now, and nobody really thinks that "morphless" (humans) exist anymore in more than old stories.

And this is when we get to the plot of the book(s) here!

(damn, this is gonna be a long post. probably a good/bad sign for how the others are going to be, since this is the very first one, huh?)

The plot follows a trio of teenagers (this will probably be something around YA in age-level) who are in way over their heads, but they're still Doing Their Best. Their best involves running from the law, trying to blunt-force their way through language barriers with questionable success, a lot of hitchhiking, breaking so many laws I'm not even kidding, and a lot of found-family bonding through trying to basically smuggle a unicorn back to Fairyland in a world where unicorns are executed on sight for Not Supposed To Exist crimes.

Lussa is a spiny bush viper nym who's been more or less disowned from his (noble, military-focused, traditional) family for being so obsessed with tracking down "old stories and legends" of goldstreaks and morphless instead of "getting a real job"; he's currently working on trying to predict (and thus prove) the opening of natural goldstreak portals, using calculations based on notes he found in his late mother's journals. He's all intelligence and dexterity; he's very good at fighting because of his family but also hates fighting and avoids it when possible, and gets overly enthusiastic about anything relating to goldstreaks at any time.

Kyrren is his best friend, a snow leopard nym from a largely migratory tribe in the mountains, and while she's also very interested in the goldstreaks and morphless thanks to the oral stories that her tribe has passed down, she's currently more concerned with keeping her incredibly intelligent idiot of a best friend alive while he's slithering all over the continent chasing portals. She's more of a common-sense person, well used to traveling and dealing with bandits and weather and how they're going to get all this sensor equipment up the cliff when neither of them can fly, and she's a bit more deadpan but also does get excited about the goldstreak stuff.

Alina, on the other hand, is a human who trips and falls through a goldstreak in the forest behind her house, winds up at the peak of a snowy mountain, gets rescued by a snow leopard walking on two legs and a half-snake guy with glasses who's way too excited about everything, and then has to deal with the fact that she's now in a world where humans don't exist, she doesn't speak any of the local languages, and her only hope to get back home is to rely on these two fellow teenagers to get her all the way across the continent to a place where they think another portal might open up in a month's time.

It's basically a Road Trip From Hell sort of story, with extra language barriers, cultural shock, magical loopholes, found family, and figuring out that hey maybe those manufactured goldstreak portals hadn't actually been closed due to a completely natural disaster like everyone thought in the first place.

I have a ton of thoughts swirling on the matter of local cultural traditions, etiquette and honorifics, the magic system, and the geography, but this post is already long enough so we'll stop it here!

After a snippet of the pieces I do actually have, of course ;)

----------

Luckily, the morphless doesn’t get a chance to sneak away or attack them while they’re asleep.

Unluckily, it doesn’t get a chance because it wakes them up with a bloodcurling howl.

Kyrren leaps out of the makeshift nest with a yowl of her own half-caught in her throat, scrambling blindly for her collapsed spear with one hand and unsheathing claws with the other. Even before she’s fully awake she’s crouched in front of Lussa, who’s thrashing in a trap of his own making underneath all ten layers of blankets and hissing in a sleepy panic.

The morphless is moving—away from them?

Kyrren blinks sleep out of her eyes hard, even as she puffs herself up to make herself a bigger, more threatening opponent. But no, she hadn’t seen that wrong. It’s....moving away. Backing itself into a corner, actually, leaving all of the blankets behind and pressing its back into the cold stone wall. It stares at her with big, round eyes set high in its flat face, like an owl, but more focused on her and less through her.

Kyrren hesitates when it doesn’t attack. It also seems to stop once it’s there. Its chest heaves, moving rapidly for something that big, and its heartbeat seems to be even faster than her own.

Is it....scared? Surely not. It's not like it's the one being faced with a monster out of fireside stories and old dusty legends.

Lussa manages to slither his way out from the blanket pile and into a mostly upright position while they’re staring at each other. The morphless’s eyes flick down to him and it jerks back again, letting out another whimpering sound. It clutches at its belt as if looking for a weapon and finding none.

It does look scared. Of Lussa, of all nyms.

Kyrren had thought it was a predator, but maybe it’s more prey-oriented instead—Lussa is the exact opposite of intimidating. As evidenced by his sleepy squint at the morphless. “Whasssssit?”

“It’s awake,” Kyrren mutters.

“It’ssss... Oh. Oh!” Lussa jolts, then dives back into the blanket nest—making the morphless jump—before scrambling back upright with his glasses. “Oh!” he repeats, enthusiasm spiking. “You’re awake! Hello!”

He goes to move past Kyrren and she grabs his arm, stopping him. “We don’t know if it’s dangerous-”

“It’s not going to attack me!” Lussa protests, waving one hand at it. “Look at it, it’s terrified!”

It—does still look scared, frankly. Pressed as far back into the corner as it can get, its skin gone an even grayer shade of brown, and eyes wide behind its unruly long hair.

Kyrren pins her ears back, uneasy. She doesn’t really... like scaring people. Not people smaller and not threatening to her, at least. But. They don’t know how dangerous this thing is. “Cornered animals are the most dangerous,” she reminds him.

“But not cold ones,” Lussa argues. “Look, it’s shivering. Are you cold? You look cold,” he adds to it directly.

The morphless stares mutely at him.

Lussa deflates a bit. “Fine, you don’t have to...oh, let me just...” He pulls away, and this time Kyrren reluctantly lets him go.

She stands up straighter, then when the morphless only shrinks back, she sinks back down onto her haunches. It doesn’t look any less terrified, but it seems to relax again when she’s not towering over it. Really, it’s not any taller than Lussa when he’s pulling himself upright, and that’s barely the height of Kyrren’s chest. No wonder it’s scared, if it’s that small.

She flicks her tail out, balancing her weight, and wonders at the way the morphless’s eyes catch on it and widen before snapping back to Lussa.

[ambiguouspenny]

Inspo Weekend/ Seven Sentence Sunday.

Thank you @freneticfloetry @lemonlyman-dotcom @rmd-writes & @lightningboltreader for the tags this weekend!

From a Canon Divergence Tarlos AU:

“Play nice with Austin’s most eligible,” Paul calls out to them, and Nancy twirls in her denim mini skirt and Dr. Marten platform boots.  “I only play nice, Strickland!” She calls back, arm stretched high with wriggling fingers.  Carlos catches the last of Paul’s final wave goodbye as the crowd of 90s-themed club kids envelopes them both. The music is louder out on the dance floor, but the alcohol in his system makes good company for the vibration of the speakers—spreading like a wave through a gyrating sea of hands and hips.  They’d been doing this for months now — any Friday night they both had off, Nancy and Carlos found themselves here. Not here, as in this specific club. But here, close to drunk and chasing the high of a stranger’s wandering eyes— Nancy backed up against him, the two of them putting on a show for Austin’s most eligible.

Related inspo:

no pressure tagging for the end of the weekend people who may or may not have done either of these already: @hoko-onchi-writes @rosedavid @teeveeyou @heartstringsduet @detective-giggles @catanisspicy @jddryder

Happy to see you :)

[simandthedimbulbv2-0]

Happy (slightly belated) Halloween, everybody! I’ve been wicked busy this term but I managed to put together some new screens for The Cabinet. Some musical snippets and other assorted bits n bobs to follow :) 🎃🕹️❤️

[lizard-official-blog]

if you're like me, one of the hardest parts about allowing yourself to acknowledge things that make you feel bad is realising how normal it has become to speak down to others so casually. the prevalence of condescension in everyday conversation (especially online) is genuinely at a level where i'm having to think very carefully about continuing to follow those who, while seemingly ethically considerate, seem to relish being cruel/mocking/dismissive to anyone who even mildly displeases them/has some kind of legitimate miscommunication (regardless of apparent intent/lack thereof). part of my healing has been and will continue to be disengaging with that level of casual unkindness because it's not who i want to be anymore and it's genuinely hurtful how many people i used to consider 'faves' seem to think it's okay. we don't all have to sit down and sing amazing grace or anything lmao i just want to get to a point where my body doesn't literally go into fight or flight mode whenever someone is unnecessarily snappy or patronising. normalise not calling people 'hun'/'girlie'/'sweetie'/'babe' etc just because you think they've made an oopsie or have said something wrong.

[assortedcriminality]

snippet #3

Contains: blood (not much), knives, violence

Civilian’s eyes fluttered open, their vision intensely blurry. Blinking a few times to clear it up and wincing from a sharp pain in their temple, they raised their head. Instantly they startled, letting out a yelp as a figure came into focus across from them—staring right at their face.

“Awake at last,” the person drawled, tapping their fingers on the table-the table? 

“W-wh…” words failed Civilian immediately, their mouth refusing to cooperate. Their brain hadn’t yet caught up with their surroundings, but they were pretty sure they were sitting up. Why would they be sitting up? Who was the person on the other side of the table? Where-

“I’m sure you have quite a few questions.” The stranger’s voice interrupted their train of thought. “But I have some rather more pressing ones for you as well.”

Another wave of hurt came from Civilian’s head. They reached up a hand to steady themself, ignoring the stranger, but felt something…wet. With some hesitance, they took it away. It was covered in blood.

“I’m sorry about that,” the person said in a tone that didn’t sound very apologetic. “My employee was a little rough. But it was a necessary precaution, as I’m sure you’ll soon understand.”

Civilian tried to respond, to ask what was going on, but their voice wouldn’t cooperate. All that came out was a dry, rasping cough that shook their whole body. 

“I’ll give you a minute to recover,” said the stranger. They shifted through a pile of papers on their side of the table that Civilian hadn’t noticed before. Their pen jotted a few quick notes down on one of the sheets while Civilian took a deep breath, trying their best to ground themself. They couldn’t panic. They had to stay focused. If they couldn’t figure out what was happening and didn’t manage to escape on their own… well, Lover had insisted on them having that tracker in their phone.

“Wh-where am I?” They finally managed. Their voice was hoarse, as if it hadn’t been used in months. Hell, they didn’t know how long they’d been out. It was possible. Unlikely, sure, but possible. God, I really, really, really hope not.

The stranger smiled and wrote something on their page. “The Agency, of course.”

Civilian blinked. “The-the Agency? Like… the hero agency. For people with actual superpowers? What?”

“Most people with actual superpowers, as you say,” the stranger corrected. “There are always those who slip through our fingers and dedicate themselves to villainy. That’s what I’ve brought you here to discuss.”

Their head pounded. “Who are you?”

The stranger’s grin widened. “Why, I’m Superhero. I thought that was quite obvious.”

“S-Superhero?” This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. They’d eaten spicy food last night and were having a bad dream, that’s it. Why would Superhero, of all people, kidnap them? They weren’t a hero, not even a sidekick. Sure they had powers, but the Agency only took first and secondary powered individuals. Civilian’s tertiary power, the ability to calm others with their singing, was good for helping Lover relax after a long day at work, but not so much for fighting crime. 

“Yes. Now then, Civilian, I wanted to ask you something…” Superhero flipped through a file, pulling out a photograph. “Do you know who this is?”

Civilian raised an eyebrow, wincing when they found it hurt to do so. Of course they knew who it was. The picture was of Supervillain, the most notorious criminal in the city. They had evaded the heroes for years, stealing from every important figure in range and causing destruction with their powers of invulnerability and telekinesis. In the photo, they had their hands raised, floating in front of a smoking skyscraper. A team of heroes were surrounding them from all angles, but they wore a confident smirk, as if they knew something no one else did. “That’s Supervillain.”

“Indeed. Now—“ Supervillain took another photo from their folder and slid it across the table. “I believe you know this person?”

Civilian started. The image was of Lover, wearing a suit in a restaurant. They appeared to be meeting with a business partner, as they often did. “Why do you-“ 

“Answer the question, Civilian,” the hero interrupted. “Do you or do you not know this person?”

“I-I do,” they stammered. What did Lover have to do with this, whatever ‘this’ was? “But-“

“Everything will become clear in just a moment.” Superhero withdrew the photo and placed it back in the file. “You and this person, Lover, have been dating for over three years. Is that correct?”

Civilian stared at them. “I…yes. That’s right.”

“And you work as a performer?”

“Yes. I’m a-a singer.”

The crimefighter scribbled something and glanced down at a paper. “And Lover, they’re in business?”

“Real estate,” they said numbly. “But why-“

“All in due time,” Superhero said without looking up. “Real estate,” they chuckled quietly, giving no explanation. “And you met them when?”

Civilian shifted in their chair. “A little under four years ago. I was doing a show at a restaurant. They came up after, gave me a tip, complimented my voice…”

“And you lived happily ever after,” Superhero finished for them, flipping through a few more pages. “You live together, yes? An apartment building off 57th?”

“How do you-“ 

“Nice apartment for a real estate mogul, isn’t it?” they cut in. “Penthouse and everything?”

“They work for a very successful-“

Superhero closed the file with a pronounced slam. Their expression was incomprehensible. “You want to know why you’re here, Civilian?”

Civilian, caught off guard, nodded. 

The hero folded their hands on the table. “I want information on Supervillain.”

Their head was spinning. This was all so confusing, so wrong. None of it made any sense. Why would Superhero kidnap them—violently, it seemed—and think they knew any more about Supervillain than the Agency? “I don’t know why you think I can help you. I don’t know anything about them. Please, I don’t know what you did to me, but just leave me alone.”

Superhero tilted their head to the side, a pitying expression forming on their face. “I know you know, Civilian. Don’t make me do something I don’t want to.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” they snapped, standing up. They were done with this. Clearly, Superhero wasn’t the person everyone thought they were, all shiny and moral, placed on a pedestal by the whole city. “But I don’t want to hear it.” They stormed over to the door and were about to throw it open when their body froze against their will, hands slamming to their sides. 

“Sit,” Superhero said. 

Civilian’s eyes widened in horror as their legs began to move back towards the chair of their own volition. They’d never seen Superhero’s powers used before, never imagined how terrifying it could be. The ability to control others with their mind, used to easily dispatch criminals without any need for bloodshed. They struggled to no avail as their hand reached to pull out their chair. Superhero’s face was full of mock disappointment. 

“Now then,” the hero said as Civilian was forced to sit down again. “Let’s continue, shall we? We were talking about Supervillain, weren’t we?”

Civilian couldn’t speak. They couldn’t move. They were trapped in their own body, unable to do anything but move their eyes. 

“Please don’t continue your naive stubbornness,” they sighed. “I’m afraid I don’t have the patience for it. Tell me what you know. This is your last chance.”

“I don’t know anything,” were the words that shot out immediately, before Civilian even realized they could talk again. “Please believe me, I don’t know-“

“Civilian, dear.” Superhero shook their head. “I’m sorry, I just can’t believe you when I know you’re dating Supervillain.”

Their breathing stopped. “What?”

“Supervillain, Lover…” the hero shrugged. “One and the same. I mean, it all seems quite obvious now. I simply can’t trust that you didn’t know.”

A laugh burbled up in Civilian’s throat. “You can’t be serious. Lover, a master criminal? That’s ridiculous. You have the wrong person. Lover doesn’t even have powers.”

“So you’re telling me you’ve never noticed anything off about them? Like the way they never seem to get injured, even everyday things like paper cuts and little bruises?” they asked skeptically.

“They’re just-just lucky, I guess.” Come on. Anyone could avoid injury just by being careful. And besides, just because Civilian had never seen them get hurt doesn’t mean they never had been. 

Superhero’s eyebrows rose. “Lucky. All right, how about the way they’re gone from dusk to dawn with no real explanation? Or how we’ve witnessed them meeting with Villain, a known criminal, under the guise of making a real estate deal?”

Civilian shook their head vehemently. “No. No. No. You’re wrong. You’re wrong. It’s all just a misunderstanding. They’re not like that. They would never break the law like that, put people in danger.” Their voice rose. “You don’t know them.”

The hero let out a snarl, their face contorting, rising half out of their chair. “You know something. I know you do. You will tell me.”

“I don’t know anything!” Civilian yelled, standing up again. Superhero seemed to have forgotten to keep controlling them. “Leave me alone!”

Superhero rose to their full height, sliding their chair back. Their expression was murderous. They put a hand on the edge of the table and slammed it to the left, making it crash into the wall. Civilian let out a yelp, hastily stumbling backward as Superhero approached.

“St-stay away from me,” Civilian said, hands outstretched. Their back hit the wall. Before they could move, Superhero’s hand smashed into the brick beside their head. With their other, they pulled a knife from their belt. Civilian froze, terrified eyes meeting the hero’s furious ones.

“You do know. You know everything. And I will drag it out of you however I need to,” they growled. “I don’t even need this knife, though it would be fun. I could make you jump out of the window. I could make you stab yourself in the heart. So I suggest you tell me what I want to know. Now.”

Tears began to slide down Civilian’s face. “Lover isn’t Supervillain, I don’t know anything, I swear, I don’t know—“

Superhero’s knife slashed up in a flash of silver, cutting a bold line across their cheek. They cried out, more tears mingling with the blood that immediately began to stream down their chin in a thin, steady line. 

“How dare you,” they demanded, managing to glare the supposed hero down through their pain. “Everyone parades you around, saying how amazing and great you are, and here you are torturing me.”

A sinister smile formed on Superhero’s face. They angled their knife on their captive’s shoulder, starting to slowly dig in with the tip. Civilian bit their lip, determined to be defiant. “No one ever needs to know. Give me what I want, and I’ll stop. Simple as that.”

“I…” they trailed off, gasping as Superhero dug their blade deeper into their shoulder. “Don’t know… anything.”

“You lying bi—“

BOOM. The door fell flat on the wooden floor, sending up a cloud of dust. Bricks clattered to the ground, loosened by the force. Superhero whirled around, knife still held tightly in their fist. A tall figure stepped into the light, clad in a dark gray supersuit and a black mask that covered their features. A mask anyone in the city would recognize. 

“No,” Civilian breathed, forgetting their pain.

“Supervillain,” Superhero drawled. In a flash, they turned momentarily to seize Civilian’s wrist and pull them forward. They were too frozen to struggle as the hero’s arm wrapped around their waist and the knife was placed on their pulse point, forcing their chin up. “How nice of you to join us.”

Civilian held back a sob as Supervillain’s masked gaze slid to them. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. They hadn’t believed it for a second, not through the hero’s insistence. They had never doubted their partner, not ever. They’d never had a reason to. But now…

“Lover.” The name was less than a whisper on their lips, but the villain still flinched.

Superhero glanced down at their hostage. “You really didn’t know?” They gave an exaggerated sigh. “Well, I suppose you were somewhat useful. Now…” They faced Supervillain with a triumphant expression. “Turn yourself over to me, or I slit their pretty little throat.” 

Supervillain’s finger twitched. It was an almost imperceptible movement, unnoticeable had Civilian not been watching them a hawk. A wicked blade, about twelve inches long, sat in the air in front of Superhero’s face. It was as if it had appeared out of nowhere. The hero stiffened.

“Release them. Now. Or I kill you. They’re innocent, they have no part in this.” Their voice was both familiar and unfamiliar, deeper and a little raspier than usual. 

Superhero sneered at them around the blade. “They lost their innocence the second they started dating a master criminal. They’re just collateral now.” They increased their pressure on the knife, causing a thin line of blood to bead up on the hostage’s neck. “You’re fast, but are you fast enough? You might kill me, but you’ll be too late to save them.”

Civilian trembled in the hero’s grip, staring at the criminal’s motionless figure. They didn’t want Supervillain—Lover—to kill Superhero, no matter how terrible they were. They didn’t want to watch Lover do such a horrible thing, accept that they were capable of murder. It was the right thing for Supervillain to turn themself in, but Superhero was corrupt, possibly unstable. Civilian didn’t want to see them win either.

“Fine.” Supervillain’s blade clattered to the ground. The criminal held out their hands to Superhero. “Take me. Just let them go.”

The hero grinned. They stepped away from Civilian, offering the knife to them handle-first. “Hold this for me, love. For insurance.”

For the second time, their hand moved of its own accord. To their horror, it grabbed the knife and placed it on their neck again. They were frozen like that, not even able to speak. Supervillain’s shoulders tightened. The hero drew closer to them, taking a pair of thick power-suppressing handcuffs from their belt. 

“I can’t believe all it took to bring in the mighty Supervillain was a little mouse of a civilian,” they said, grabbing the criminal’s left hand roughly and forcing it into one of the cuffs, securing it with a loud click. The hero lifted their head and smirked at their masked face. “Ridiculous, isn’t it?”

“Quite,” Supervillain murmured. Their captor continued speaking, but it wasn’t Superhero they were looking at. Instead, they gazed past at their partner’s ashen face, the blood matted in their hair, running from their cheek and shoulder. That’s when Civilian saw it. The subtle twitch of the villain’s finger on their uncuffed hand. The dusty brick that seemed to appear out of nowhere, hovering just above Superhero’s head. The hostage’s eyes widened. The hero hadn’t seen the movement, they were focused on their monologue, convinced they had already won. Civilian couldn’t say anything, couldn’t warn them. They weren’t even sure they wanted to. 

The brick came down. Superhero collapsed to the ground mid-sentence. Civilian dropped their knife, backing away. They watched as Supervillain knelt and unclipped a set of keys from the unconscious hero’s belt. They chose a silver one and unlocked the cuff on their left wrist, letting it fall to the floor with a clatter. Only then did they look up at their partner. Soundlessly, they brought a hand to their face and slipped off their black mask, revealing the features beneath. Lover’s eyes met theirs. 

“Civilian, I’m so sorry—“

“Save it, Lover,” they said, voice trembling. “You lied to me. You’ve lied to me from the day we met. You’re a villain.”

Their pain was obvious on their face. “I know. It’s my fault you’re here. I’m so, so sorry, Civilian. I never meant for you to get hurt.”

“I was going to get hurt anyway!” they burst out. “No matter what happened, you were going to hurt me. Maybe not like this, but did you really think you could hide who you are forever? Why did you do this?” Their voice broke. “Why would you do this to me?” 

“Because I’m selfish,” they said. “And I love you. I loved you too much to tell you, and I was too selfish to let you go.” 

“Is that supposed to make me forgive you?” Tears began to well up in their eyes again. Their head pounded. “Because you love me, you think that makes everything okay?”

“Of course not.” Their voice was full of anguish. “It doesn’t make up for it. Nothing does. I don’t expect you to forgive me. I would understand if you hated me forever.”

“Lover…” Civilian put a hand to their forehead. The room was spinning, lightheadedness sinking in. “Lover, I don’t—“ 

Their knees buckled. Lover was there in a millisecond, catching them gently and holding them upright. Their head fell into Lover’s shoulder. The villain examined them with concern. A sheen of sweat stood out at their hairline. Their breathing was shallow and laborious. 

“Civilian. Civilian, are you all right?” they asked. 

“It-it hurts,” they whispered. 

Their partner’s eyes widened. “You’ve lost more blood than I thought. Your adrenaline’s kept you functioning all this time.” They placed a hand under Civilian’s knees and lifted them up into their arms. “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“I want to go home,” they mumbled.

Lover gave them a sad smile, starting out of the empty door frame. “So do I, my love.”

So do I. 

word count: 2948

[addiepaca]

#03 Zero Hour Talks

part 1

“See they’re trying to make me jealous—which isn’t working—I mean, it makes sense. Why else would they suddenly pretend to be in a relationship with some rookie?”

Medic stared at the Villain with a deadpan expression, their arms crossed in front of their stomach with legs crossed under the glass table. The quiet atmosphere of the local diner in the middle of the night only further intensified the Medic’s desire to drop down on the hard surface and fall asleep. “...Get a job,” they replied, an apathetic tone in their voice as they rubbed their temples. 

“This is my job,” the Villain, in contrast, was functioning perfectly fine. Their fingers passively tapping the table in an even rhythm. Sipping the sweet cranberry slushy with gleaming eyes as if they were waiting for validation. The Medic wishes they were dead. 

“Get a real job,” Medic grabbed the plastic cup from their hands, grumbling with irritation. They considered throwing the drink in their face but refrained knowing they would probably get kicked out.

Villain narrowed their eyes and scoffed, “I’m just saying, I know exactly what they’re doing and I won’t fall for it,” they smirked. Confident in their own words as if they weren’t completely on the verge of snapping a few days ago. Not from bitterness after seeing their Hero’s face all over the news along with that halfwit of a rookie, it was about a completely unrelated matter.

“I really don’t care,” Medic groaned. The Villain did not listen and took it as a sign to continue.

“Heroes just think they’re better than everyone, especially that jerk. They think their smile can fool the city but they can’t fool me.”

“Oh my God.”

Medic ran their hands through their hair, rolling their eyes and slumping in agony. There was nothing they desired less than listening to the Villain’s denial and refusal to even have a love life. If this was what hell was like, they would have to start praying.

The dense fool did not seem to pick up on their suffering though. Villain’s gaze flickered to the large digital billboard across the street. Rotating between various shots of the greatest heroes of the city, and the new upcoming stars. They chuckled dryly, waiting for their hero to show up. “They won’t be able to keep up that facade for long, once the Hero realizes the rookie is another useless wannabe they’ll come crawling back, craving the excitement.” Medic did not miss the way their gaze softened.

They straightened themselves, resting their chin on their knuckles with furrowed brows. Following Villain’s gaze just as their obsession showed up. The grinning hero conversed with the reporters, standing in close proximity with their partner. Well supposed partner at least, there are a few who doubt the nature of their relationship, and their sibling happens to be one of them. “How do you even know they’re just pretending?” They questioned, the two seemed close, comfortable even. It wasn’t hard to see why the dating rumors were easy to spread.

Villain glared at them in response, scoffing in annoyance as if they had asked a stupid question. “Because they are, obviously. Get it together, I thought you were the smart one,” they sneered. Medic’s eye twitched slightly in response, sighing as an attempt to compose themselves. A punch would be thrown, but it would occur after they were outside.

“...Why do you think it’s fake?” They said, slowly. Rewording their initial question as they realized the Villain was too far gone now.

The other smirked smugly, seriously it’s like they were asking to get punched. They pointed at the screen, their eyes focused as if they were inspecting every little detail from a five minute clip. “Just look at them. Their smile doesn’t touch their eyes, their pupils are wandering all over the place and their fingers are barely holding on to that rookie. Contrary to their statements, they don’t even live together, I checked and everything.”

“You what now?”

Villain brushed them off, pulling out their phone and opening a news article from the city’s media. “Anyway, that Valentine’s interview was totally scripted, this anonymous user from the comments claimed that they work for the agency and they admitted the two were just doing it for the marketing.” Medic squinted their eyes and leaned closer to their screen, reading the comment.

“This user also said ‘Supers were created by a secret society to kill the lizards that live underground.’” They pointed out with an unimpressed look.

“Well you never know,” Villain shrugged in response. 

Medic had to lean back into their seat, slowly registering their entire interaction just now. Hands resting at their temples again as they met the Villain’s gaze with genuine pity. They considered slapping them to return them to their senses, but they seemed like a lost cause. “...You know it gets to a point where it’s just sad.”

“What? I made perfectly rational points,” Villain didn’t understand what part wasn’t clear enough. It was pretty straight forward, yet no one seemed to understand. They even consulted their Henchman earlier and they were left speechless before turning in their request to take a vacation.

The billboard keeps switching between clips of the recent conflicts of the heroes before it landed on the most recent interview of the Hero—no, the Villain’s Hero. Villain’s eyes immediately turned to them, a faint hint of a smile threatening to show on their lips. 

No words could describe how baffled Medic was. Sure they had joked about them having feelings for the hero but they didn’t realize it would lead to the Villain becoming so pathetic, and most of all how they ended up being forced to listen to their thoughts. They scrunched their nose in judgement. A faint sense of hollowness filled their chest, unease creeped in.

“Why do you care so much?” 

Villain sneered in defense, “I do not care. Caring is my least favorite thing to do.” 

“Right,” Medic tilted their head.

“Right.”

An unpleasant silence filled the diner. The two were staring at each other, a stalemate of sorts.

“So you’re not going to crash the Hero’s date tomorrow?” Medic spoke up again, leaning forward now as they raised a brow in apparent confusion. Their crossed arms resting on top of the table.

“No, I’m still doing that,” Villain answered, reaching out to grab their unfinished slushy. They sipped the drink with an annoying sound that made the Medic wince before blinking slowly and coming to the conclusion that they were, simply put, hopeless.

“...Whatever,” they exhaled a sharp breath. I give up the Medic thought to themselves.

The other stretched their legs on top of the table, already chuckling out of amusement. They couldn’t wait to see the look on Hero’s face, it would be a moment worth framing. “It’s part of my duties as their greatest enemy.”

Medic was not amused, they took one look at the Villain and sighed again. They wondered if the Villain realized they were fooling themselves, that the line between love and hate often overlapped. Denial can only exist for so long, and most of all—the consequences of finally removing the walls in their heart. “One day you will realize that you were a fucking idiot and when that happens I will laugh.” And maybe, I’ll stop worrying about you after you accept that loving someone isn’t the end of the world. The rest of the words were stuck in their throat.

Villains and Heroes, a cat and mouse game for the people. Even so, there was always a comforting intimacy with someone who knows you inside and out, constantly on their tail, a never ending chase. That was how they were raised, at least. So perhaps it was only a matter of time before Villain gained such affections.

Villain did not see the concern faintly grazing Medic’s expression, scrunching their brows in irritation. “Who’s side are you on?”

“The one not stalking their crush,” Medic said under their breath.

“What?”

“I said clearly yours,” Medic averted their gaze, hiding the pity in their eyes.

[schemmentisimpasours]

That Time: Headcanons

Summary: I'm dying of fucking cramps and I needed a little self comfort on what my comfort characters would do to help take care of you during that time of the month.

I kinda like this. Might do more of these

Warnings: Talks of menstruation, blood, mood swings

Characters: Olivia Benson, Ayanna Bell, Melissa Schemmenti, Ava Coleman, Alex Blake, Tara Lewis, Athena Grant, Chessy

Fandoms: SVU,Organized Crime, Abbott Elementary, Criminal Minds, 9-1-1, The Parent Trap

~-~

Olivia Benson

Calls Fin and takes a work from home day whenever she can. Stays in bed with you while you are in and out of sleep rubbing your back between signing paperwork. Wakes you up occasionally to keep you hydrated and eating.Uses essential oils to rub into your sore back and your hips. Keeps a candle lit because you swear that you smell and it calms down your anxiety over it. Makes you stay in bed preparing comfort food for you all day. Fills the bath tub full of bubbles and stress relief bath salts to soothe your aching muscles. Reads you your favorite book while playing with your hair till you fall asleep in her lap.

Ayanna Bell

Has Sloot rework all your social media so you only see happy videos and blocks all news. Keeps ginger ale and soup on standby because without fail you get sick every time. Forces Stabler to run errands and bring you lunch from your favorite deli with an extra large slurpee.Uses various pressure points to relieve pain in your neck and shoulders. Sets up 3 large fans in the bedroom to help cool you down even if it means wearing hoodies all day. Watched youtube videos to learn how to give you a deep tissue massage. Let's you fall asleep like a starfish across the bed just happy you are comfortable.

Melissa Schemmenti

Frets over you every time because she knows you are in a lot more pain than you let anyone know. Is constantly checking in on you keeping you hydrated and medicated with pain meds on rotation. Barks at anyone who so much as raises their voice at you. Gently guides you away from annoying coworkers before you rip their head off. Holds your hand until the cramps pass. Bakes homemade cookies and cannolis. Keeps the house extra cold for when you overheat. Has blankets and her hoodies on standby (you refuse anything that doesn't smell like her) for the moments you start to shiver. Tucks you in bed (in light cotton sheets so you don't sweat)and reads to you (occasionally throwing in snippets of Italian) till you fall asleep curled around her with your head lying on her chest. She refuses to move for the rest of the night.

Ava Coleman

Makes you take the day off and it is non negotiable.If they are short subs steps in unwillingly to help for the day so you can stay home. Marks the days on her calendar with a bright X to prepare for what she calls her "baby's doomsday". When she can she stays home with you making the same tea her grandma made her growing up. Forces Gregory to be her personal Uber Eats for all your cravings. Orders your favorite Chinese food to eat on the couch while you watch sad movies. Cries over the sad movies because you are crying and she hates seeing you in pain. Covers the bed in black silk sheets to keep you cool and cover up anything so you never have to worry. Rubs your back as you hug her like a koala bear until you fall asleep. She won't admit it but having you so needy and clingy is her favorite thing.

Alex Blake

Constantly tracking your symptoms and flow to check for abnormalities. Keeps a calendar in her purse to prepare for the day especially when she knows cases are extra heavy. Always keeps heating pad patches for you. Makes you hot tea with lemon but keeps other caffeine in her bags. Has a random assortment of snacks that you steal from her often. When the cramps are bad she holds you until they pass. Since you are constantly on the go she keeps a handful of comfort items tucked in her go bag. Packs an extra hoodie for you to curl up on at night. Pulls strings so on cases you have the hotel room together so she can hold you while you fall asleep. Breaks down the mean of complex words to lull you into sleep when you struggle to push past the pain.

Tara Lewis

Has extra pads and underwear packed in her go bag because she knows that you always forget. Often is the one reminding you that your period is coming when she notices a shift in your demeanor.Holds your hand wherever you go so you can squeeze it if you are in pain. Or to pull you away from someone before you snap at them. Is feeding you bits of chocolate and pretzel randomly throughout the day. Holds you in the back of cars or the bathroom when you burst into tears randomly. Kisses your forehead whenever she can and reminds you constantly how proud of you she is. Waits for you to tell her when you need pain medicine but if you wait too long will give you gentle prodding. Falls asleep rubbing your back.

Athena Grant

Is calling to check on you every hour on the hour. And reminds you to take meds regularly with a slight threat if you don't listen. Driving to check on you at work or home in between calls. Doordashes you lunch and chocolate covered strawberries. Comes home early if she can to set up a huge movie night. Drags in the TV from the living room. Creates a cocoon of blankets and pillows with fans on full blast. Holds you while you cry after you insist on watching Bolt. Even considers getting you a dog at some point. Will fall asleep curled around you so she can sense any sign of distress during the night.

Chessy Always one to be a caregiver, Chessy immediately steps in to care for you. She has a calendar to track the days so she has all the essentials prepared. Has sheets on standby and will clean up the bed before you get self conscious if it comes a day or two early. Chocolate is stuffed in all the cupboards in different varieties. There are various forms of heating pads including one shaped like a shark. When the cramps are bad she holds you rubbing your back gently. She lets you complain reassuring you that you are going to be okay with small kisses on your forehead. She draws up a bath for you and sits on the side of the tub reading a book to you. Will let you lay on top of her to sleep because it's the only way you feel comfortable.

-

Taglist

@derpyavocado @panerasbox @babytakeittothehead @milfjuulpod @yoyo-w @cupldscntrl @milfslvr

@liliapleasesteponme @italianaidiota

@marvel210

[monsoon-of-art]

Felt extremely soft lately, managed to channel it (I think) into another fish snippet. In which Dr Thomas Light tries not to become too attached to the eight little things he's currently watching over. He fails.

Thomas had always wanted children, at least a little subconsciously. A little bundle of joy, a darling little baby to hold close. To watch them grow, to act as a guiding hand as they come into their own. He’d take them around town, he’d show them art and music and culture. He’d show them his blueprints and his plans, and maybe, if they were interested, they could even help around the lab. He’d keep them safe, bandage them up when they scraped their little knees, kiss them on the forehead…

It just wasn’t in the cards, it seemed. Too busy with work, too busy with life, never feeling like the time was right. 

And so it remained as a soft, warm thought in his chest whenever he passed by a baby in a stroller, or seeing a child propped up on a parent’s shoulders, both of them smiling, looking so happy…

Maybe…maybe one day.

As his 4 AM alarm began to incessantly beep, Thomas couldn’t stop the tired little sigh from escaping him. He missed sleep. He missed sleep a lot.

But his little…guests needed him.

Putting on his slippers and a robe, he shuffled into his lab, although one might be hard-pressed to assume this was the laboratory of esteemed Doctor Thomas Light, what with the large fish tank in the middle table.

And inside the tank were eight, wiggly little things, peeping and peeping and peeping the moment Thomas came into the room.

“Hello, little ones.” he said with a tired smile, leaning down to look at them. He counted all eight - thank God, the octopus didn’t escape again - and they seemed to be active and ‘normal’, as normal as…this could be.

Thomas had found them on the beach over the course of a few weeks, having been washed ashore. No doubt from the terrible winter storms they’ve been having. At a brief glance, they resembled aquatic creatures of all shapes and sizes. But the colors were…wrong. Little rays should not be bright yellow, or little porcupinefish shouldn’t be orange.

Then there were the little hands, their little faces, their little eyes (still shut tight) that could cry real, almost human tears…

They weren’t fish. Thomas…wasn’t sure what they were. He knew very little about them.

But he knew that they needed him.

…and that they needed to eat every few hours.

He walked to the fridge in his kitchen area, pulling out an assortment of bottles and powders. Learning what the little creatures would eat was a challenge in itself; they were clearly too young for solid foods, so after some trial and error, a mix of heavy cream, milk, and fish oil seemed to satisfy them.

Thomas filled a small container with warm water, placing in the bottles of his dairy concoctions to warm.

“Whooo’s hungry?” he asked, walking over to the tank and starting to lift the lid. The eight little fish peeped louder, and even though their eyes were still closed, they clambered at the glass wall closest to him.

The tank was a rushed job. A quick container for these little things cobbled together from a pet store and the baby section of the local superstore. Filter, heater, a little sand at the bottom. They had little interest in plants or rocks - and part of him feared they’d try and eat it - so instead he laid in soft towels and some of his less nice blankets for them to cuddle up against.

Rolling up his sleeves, he reached into the tank. He could feel their little paws clambering on him, some even nibbling on him experimentally. Finally, he carefully wrapped his fingers around one and pulled it out of the tank for the first feeding.

“Ah, 008.”

The newest rescue, a little ray of some kind. It had a dark backside, but a bright yellow underside save for its red chest, and a little yellow ‘mask’ on the face. It mewled in his hand, protesting its empty tummy as loudly as it could.

All of the creatures had numbers for identifiers. He didn’t want to name them, then he’d get attached…and really, he was just. Just…looking after them. This wasn’t long-term. Surely there was a rescue center of some kind…surely.

“So dramatic.” Thomas cooed, holding 008 to his chest. Instantly, it started to settle, little paws starting to knead against his clothes, its starved cries shifting to whining croons. “So dramatic.” he repeated, rubbing its back.

He was just glad 008 didn’t zap him again. Befitting of its appearance, 008 also had the mild electrical abilities just like an electric ray. Evidently it was either used to his presence or too hungry to do so.

With the bottles at a nice, warm temperature, he grabbed one and offered it to the little creature in his arms. It took a moment to latch, but once it did, it immediately - and greedily - started to drink. Peeping cries silenced and replaced with quiet, content little noises. 

Thomas took note of how it began to slowly wag its tail and how its ears wiggled as it drank. Signs of contentment? Happiness? Perhaps he should write that down. If these were a new species, documentation could be helpful.

It was foolish of him to assign human emotions onto an animal, of course.

In no time at all, 008 had drank nearly the entire eight ounce bottle. With just a few drops left, it pushed the bottle away with a small huff. It was honestly astounding how much these little things could eat in one sitting.

Using a soft tissue, Thomas carefully cleaned around its mouth and face. It barely put up a fight, small paws sleepily waving in the general direction, but mostly nuzzling into his arm. “Don’t get too comfortable-” he muttered, setting the tissue down and placing the creature over his shoulder to try and burp it.

(He had no evidence this was a necessary step in the process, but dozens of parenting books that he had skimmed over the years floated to the surface of his mind as he did so. It felt right.)

Thomas gave 008 a final look-over and a final clean with another tissue, then carefully returned it to the tank. Sleepy and full, 008 let out a big yawn and curled up to sleep off its meal.

Finally. One had been fed. Seven left.

Each of them had their own little quirks and issues.

001 - small, purple jellyfish - was the most impatient of the bunch, with small tentacles that could cause a bit of pain if Thomas wasn’t careful. 002 - blue-grey octopus - was slippery and sometimes squirted ink on him. 003 - small, orange lionfish - was very sharp and could definitely hurt if he wasn’t careful. 004 - very large, almost prehistoric looking fish - was twice the size of the others with twice the appetite. 005 - small white seal - was very clingy and was difficult for him to put back in the tank. 006 - orange and yellow porcupine fish - was also a little sharp, but not nearly as much as 003. 007 - a little orange and grey fish - was honestly…the easiest of the bunch, if slightly warmer.

After a little longer than two hours, all eight of them were fed, cleaned, and quietly sleeping in their tank. All cuddled up with one another in a big pile, some of them kneading against the towels and each other.

Thomas had about four or five hours before they’d need to be fed again. The work was…exhausting. But the work had to be done, they depended on him for everything right now, completely helpless…

Almost like an infant.

Thomas blinked at the thought. He hadn’t really made that comparison before.

(At least, not consciously.)

He tried to shake the idea from his head. Lots of young animals were helpless at birth…right? He was a doctor of robotics, not tiny baby animals. In no time at all they’d be independent animals, fully capable of supporting themselves, and he’d release them back into the ocean like a good person doing their best to help.

Just a blip in his life. Maybe he’d create an aquatic robot to check data inspired by these creatures. Study their movement for robotic movement underwater. Maybe if he produced something like that, he could make the government happy enough to leave him alone and end their contract.

Speaking of, he really should get to work. He only had a few hours before the little ones woke up.

Instead of opening up his work, he instead found himself browsing shopping websites. If he was going to care for them, he should probably get them their own blankets, not just towels, might as well add some special burp cloths and some gentle cleaning towels. And he should probably buy some more bottles, and maybe experiment with kitten formula and milk powders. And maybe they might benefit from a pacifier to suckle on, so he better buy some. And if he was going to document their behavior he should get a good quality camera for pictures and a photo album to store them in-

[clementine-thedestroyer]

Hello! I was wondering if you were able to write more about racoon hybrid! Reader. I have an obsession with racoons as you can tell from the profile pic lol and I am already obsessed with their relationship I thought it was wonderful ❤️❤️

I’ve been hiding from this ask because I didn’t have quite the right thing to say to it but I need you know I’m obsessed with raccoons too. They’re the cutest little chaotic neutral thing nature gave us and I wish they were like cats and would enjoy living with humans.

As far as writing, all I really have is this little snippet- my brain’s far too strung out to piece anything more than a few paragraphs together, but I’m still gonna share them, naturally.

It’s a lot of adjustment for John- having you around, that is.

After misinterpreting your courting gifts as junk and part of a prank (then calling them as much to your face) he couldn’t just… tell you no.

Seeing how your eyes filled with hurt after he referred to the item’s you’d brought him as “crap” had pained him deeply. He couldn’t bring himself to crush your hopes just like that.

When he’d ushered you into his den that night, he’d had genuine intentions of turning you down. He’d planned on inviting you in, getting you out of the cold and all warmed up, and letting you down gently.

And he had tried that, to his credit, but you were a persistent little bugger- just wouldn’t let it go.

John had told you that night that while he was flattered, he couldn’t in good conscience accept your advances. He’d tried to explain that he just wasn’t right for you, that someone as young and full of life as you deserved a mate who could match that- not some grumpy old bear you found in the middle of the woods.

But then he saw the tears in your eyes and oh god- he couldn’t take it if you cried. Everything inside him was already screaming at him for turning you down, and he felt a pit form in his stomach at the thought of being the cause of your tears.

Why are you letting them cry!? Why are you hurting them!? Look at them! They’d be such a perfect mate! They’d been courting you so well, proving they could hunt, proving they could scavenge - why on earth would you turn them down!? That’s our mate!!

John took a deep breath, his hands gripping his knees. It wouldn’t be so bad to just let them stay the night, would it? He thought to himself, looking down at your disappointed face and struggling to keep his instincts from affecting his decision making, yet also knowing they very much so already had.

So John had you stay the night, citing the weather and concerns for your safety as reason enough and feeling immensely relieved when you agreed. He’d slept on the couch and given you his bed, assuring himself that you’d be on your way out first thing in the morning.

Then that one night turned into two when, the very next day, he’d caught found you leaving another one of your gifts in front of his den. This time, it was an assortment of nuts, washers, and bolts strung together to make a preciously clunky wind chime.

But rather than leaving it on his doorstep and sneaking off, you’d knocked on his door and boldly presented your gift to him with the biggest grin…. And how could he say no to that when you looked so proud.

So he took your little wind chime and hung it delicately in his kitchen window, knowing that by accepting your gift and putting it in his den he was essentially accepting your offer of courtship, but unable to bring himself to do anything but exactly that.

Though John continued to make a token effort at resistance, he knew that after that, you would be staying. He couldn’t bring himself to make you leave again, and he knew that even if he did, you’d just be back the very next day.

But having you around was a big adjustment. The last time he’d had someone else in his den must’ve been years ago, and it was always casual, rarely lasting more than a night and more often than not being a hook up. But now, with you spending practically every night with him, your presence is increasing becoming a constant in his life.

Your routines integrate and become fused with his own and before he knows it, he can’t imagine his life without you.

How had he’d ever enjoyed his morning coffee without you slotted beside him on the couch? With your fluffy grey ears twitching each time you turn the page to your novel and his arm wrapped loosely around you to keep you close.

How had he ever managed to sleep without having you curled up against his chest? Because these days it seems that’s the only way he can. And how had he ever taken a shower without you squeezing in beside him, a cheeky grin on your face as you ask him to help you rub shampoo and conditioner into your long, fluffy striped tail? With both of you knowing full well it’ll end up with him doing the same for your hair and the fur of your ears too- and also knowing that if he’s not in a rush, it’ll end up with you and him sitting on your bed as he brushes out and gently blowdries your hair and the fur of your tail.

Even when he finds you up at the odd hours of the night and has to drag you back to bed, he has only love for you. It’s not your fault you’ve got the instincts of a nocturnal creature, but he’s still going to toss you right over his shoulder and cart out back to bed if he has to.

It’s not even a year after brining you into his den that the two of you are right and proper mates, and John wouldn’t have it any other way.

He loves having a mate who loves to tinker and take things apart, and he loves that his den is filled with little traces of you throughout. Trinkets, pretty shells, and shiny rocks fill his shelves, and every day you bring him something new to add to the collection is a good one.

And for once, winter actually becomes something John begins to look forward to. Hibernation becomes less of a chore and more of a cherished chance to curl up with his mate in his den and do nothing but sleep and cuddle his mate. What could possibly be better than that?

[nanaosaki3940]

Feels Like A Family [Sakamoto Days]

I'm currently working on my next chapter and decided to share a small snippet of it... Please let me know if you liked it or not... 

Fanfic Name: Love In The Line Of Fire [Sakamoto Days]

Pairing: Yoichi Nagumo X OC

Nana's POV

I walked down the bustling street, my hand securely holding the small, warm hand of Hana, my cheerful five-year-old niece. The summer sun bathed us in a gentle, golden glow, casting long shadows as we made our way toward a popular dessert shop known for its delectable treats. The air was filled with the sounds of laughter, chatter, and the occasional bark from dogs being walked by their owners.

“So, Hana-chan, what kind of dessert are you in the mood for today? Ice cream? Cake?” I asked, glancing down at Hana with a warm smile.

Her wide, innocent eyes sparkled with excitement as she pondered the delicious options.

“Ice cream! I want strawberry with sprinkles!” Hana replied cheerfully, her voice filled with enthusiasm.

Her excitement was infectious, and I found myself grinning in response.

"Of course. We'll get the biggest ice creams they have…" I promised, imagining the joy on her face when she would see the towering scoops of her favorite flavor.

As we continued our walk, Hana suddenly pointed excitedly at something ahead.

“Aunt Na-chan! Look at that big dog!” she exclaimed, her voice high with delight, her tiny finger was directed at a fluffy, golden retriever that was trotting happily beside its owner.

“Yes, Hana-chan, it’s a very big dog. Maybe we can say hi to it on our way back…” I suggested while chuckling at her excitement, picturing the scene of Hana petting the friendly dog and her face lighting up with pure joy.

The sidewalks were crowded with people enjoying the pleasant weather. Vendors lined the street, selling everything from fresh flowers to colorful trinkets. The scent of freshly baked bread wafted from a nearby bakery, mingling with the aroma of street food being cooked at various stalls.

As we approached the dessert shop, the bustling crowd momentarily parted, revealing a familiar face striding towards us. It was Nagumo, easily recognizable in his signature brown trench coat, a printed shirt peeking out from beneath, and black pants. His long rectangular-shaped suitcase, undoubtedly filled with his assortment of weapons, was slung over his shoulder with a casual air.

“Yo-chan?” I called out, my voice tinged with surprise as I spotted him.

“Hey, Nana-chan! Fancy meeting you here!” Nagumo greeted, his trademark grin spreading across his face, radiating his usual infectious energy.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, my eyebrows raised in curiosity as we closed the distance between us.

“I was actually heading to your place to meet up with Sakamoto-kun. But since I ran into you, I’ll stick around and we can go back together…” Nagumo replied in an energetic tone, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Did you come here to talk about the Death Row Inmate assassins?” I questioned further, a hint of concern in my voice.

“Yeah…” Nagumo responded, nodding his head solemnly, though the gleam in his eyes remained.

Just then, Hana tugged gently on my hand, her eyes wide with curiosity.

“Who is this, Aunt Na-chan?” she asked, her innocent voice breaking the moment.

“This is Yoichi Nagumo. He’s a friend of mine and your dad’s…” I explained with a smile, introducing her to Nagumo.

“And who might this lovely young lady be?” Nagumo asked, his grin widening as he crouched down to Hana’s level, making sure to look her in the eye.

“I’m Hana! I’m my Daddy’s daughter!” Hana giggled, introducing herself with a bright smile that could light up the room.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Hana-chan!” Nagumo responded, extending a hand dramatically, his grin widening even further.

“Nice to meet you too, Uncle Yo-chan!” Hana grinned back and shook his hand, her small fingers wrapping around his with an endearing enthusiasm.

Immediately, Hana's cheerful demeanor meshed seamlessly with Nagumo's playful nature, and seeing that brought a smile to my face. Nagumo had always had a special talent for connecting with kids. His blend of cheerfulness, playful energy, and undeniable charm made him irresistible to children. They found him fun yet safe and harmless, a figure who could effortlessly bring joy to their day. Women, on the other hand, were naturally drawn to his magnetic personality, while men admired his effortless confidence and charm, often wishing they could emulate his captivating presence.

I understood that feeling all too well. My first encounter with Nagumo occurred when Taro first got into JCC. Back then I was only 8 years old while Taro and Nagumo were 14 years old; they were just 6 years older than me. At that time, Taro was just beginning his training to become a professional assassin, and through this journey, he formed a fast friendship with Nagumo. Through Taro, I came to know Nagumo, who quickly became a significant presence in my life. He was everything one could admire: charming, charismatic, funny, witty, incredibly handsome, and endearingly cute. His boundless optimism and ever-present smile created a magnetic aura that drew people in effortlessly.

Nagumo's friendly and approachable demeanor made him popular among his peers and endeared him to those younger than him. His quick wit and humor kept everyone entertained, and his genuine kindness won the hearts of many. It was no wonder that children adored him and women found him irresistible. His ability to make anyone laugh with a quick-witted comment or lighten the mood with his infectious smile had always captivated me. It was easy to see why people were naturally drawn to him.

As a child, I had admired him from a distance, and as I grew older, those feelings blossomed into a quiet, persistent longing. I had been infatuated with him, and over the years, that infatuation matured into a deeper, more profound love. Even now, standing next to him as he effortlessly bonded with Hana, I felt that familiar flutter in my heart. Despite the years that had passed, my feelings for Nagumo remained as strong as ever, a constant, unspoken presence in my life.

His charming presence reminded me of countless moments from our shared past. His ability to make anyone laugh with a quick-witted comment or lighten the mood with his infectious smile had always captivated me. Watching him now, I was transported back to those days when I first realized just how special he was. He was more than just a friend of Taro’s; he had become an indelible part of my life story, someone who had always been there, quietly shaping my dreams and hopes.

And now, here he was, effortlessly winning over Hana, just as he had won over everyone else in his life. It was a poignant reminder of why I had fallen for him in the first place, and why those feelings had never truly faded. His presence was a testament to the enduring nature of my love for him, a love that had stood the test of time and continued to thrive in the quiet corners of my heart.

Nagumo and Hana continued to chat animatedly as we made our way to the ice cream parlor, their laughter filling the air. Once inside, the shop owner greeted us with a warm smile, her eyes twinkling with delight at the sight of us.

“Oh, what a cute family you are! You make such a lovely couple with your adorable daughter!” the shopkeeper remarked, looking between the three of us with a beam of approval.

My face turned crimson upon hearing the comment. I felt a rush of heat spread across my cheeks and quickly opened my mouth to correct her.

“O-Oh, we're not actually—” I began, my voice wavering slightly from the unexpected embarrassment.

But before I could finish, Nagumo, ever the opportunist, cut me off with a mischievous grin.

“Thank you! Yes, I'm quite lucky to have such a young wife and cute daughter!” he chuckled, wrapping his arm around my shoulders with an easy familiarity before winking at me.

“Yeah! We're a happy family!” Hana giggled, catching on to the playful ruse as her eyes sparkled with delight at the game Nagumo was playing. “Daddy, can I have extra sprinkles on my ice cream?”

“Yes, anything for our dear Hana-chan! My sweet daughter!” Nagumo responded, his voice full of mock seriousness.

He tickled and hugged Hana gently, making her giggle louder, her laughter bouncing off the walls of the dessert shop. I stood there, flustered and at a loss for words. My mouth opened and closed a few times as I tried to find the right thing to say, but all I managed was a small, awkward smile. The shop owner's eyes were full of warmth and affection, completely convinced by Nagumo's and Hana's playful act.

As we ordered our desserts, I couldn't help but notice how natural Nagumo seemed in this role. He exuded a warmth and charm that made it easy for others to believe in the illusion he had created. His dark hair and eyes matched Hana's so well that it was no wonder the shop owner had mistaken them for father and daughter. With my presence completing the picture, it was easy to see why she had assumed we were a family.

“Here you go, a big strawberry ice cream with extra sprinkles for the little princess…” the shopkeeper said, handing Hana her treat with a fond smile.

“Thank you!” Hana exclaimed, her eyes wide with excitement as she took her ice cream.

Nagumo and I both received our own desserts and coffee and he, in his usual generous manner, took care of the bill before we made our way to a cozy spot at a small table. Throughout the entire interaction, I could feel the amused glances of the other customers, and it only added to my flustered state. Sitting down, I couldn't help but glance at Nagumo, who seemed entirely unbothered by the whole situation.

“Enjoy your treat, everyone!” the shop owner called out as she returned to her work.

Hana, her face lighting up with delight, dove into her strawberry ice cream adorned with colorful sprinkles.

“This is so yummy!” Hana exclaimed between giggles, her eyes sparkling with happiness.

“I'm glad you like it, Hana-chan!” Nagumo replied warmly, casting a fond glance at her before turning his playful gaze toward me. “Nana-chan, you were positively adorable back there, all flustered and blushing.”

“Yo-chan, you really shouldn't have played along like that. It was embarrassing!” I chided, a slight frown betraying my lingering embarrassment as my cheeks retained their rosy hue.

“Oh, come on, Nana-chan. It was harmless fun!” Nagumo chuckled, tousling Hana's hair affectionately as she giggled along with us. “You should have seen your own expression! And besides, Hana-chan seemed to get a kick out of it.”

“Yeah, Aunt Na-chan! It was so funny!” Hana chimed in, her laughter bubbling with infectious joy.

“But you have to admit, we made quite a convincing family…” Nagumo teased with a mischievous smirk.

“Still, you didn't have to... to...” I huffed, crossing my arms and searching for the right words.

“To what? To acknowledge how lucky I am to have such a beautiful young wife and an adorable daughter?” Nagumo interjected playfully, his grin widening. 

“Stop teasing me, baka!” I scowled, though a hint of a smile tugged at the corners of my lips.

“You two are funny! Just like a real mommy and daddy!” Hana added with a wide grin, clearly amused by our banter.

Despite my initial embarrassment, I couldn't help but smile at Hana's innocent comment. The warmth between us was palpable in that quaint confectionary shop. As Nagumo and Hana continued their playful interaction, a sense of contentment settled over me. For that brief and sweet afternoon, sitting together like this, we truly felt like a family.

As I leisurely sipped my coffee, I observed Nagumo and Hana engrossed in lively conversation, their laughter and chatter creating a warm ambiance around our table. Nagumo, with his characteristic charm and animated gestures, was deep in conversation with Hana. He asked her about school life, her friends, and her hobbies, and in return, regaled her with amusing anecdotes about her father Taro Sakamoto during their days at JCC. Hana, wide-eyed and fully attentive, hung on every word, finding immense amusement in learning about her father's youthful antics.

Notorious for the intricate tattoos adorning his whole body, Nagumo even showcased a few to Hana which were on his arms and neck, sharing stories behind some of the designs. His playful side emerged as he performed magic tricks with his dice, deftly making them disappear into thin air, leaving Hana marveling with wonder.

Nagumo possessed a natural affinity for interacting with children, a skill that seemed effortless for him. Not everyone could engage with youngsters as effortlessly as he did. Beyond his knack for connecting with kids, Nagumo genuinely enjoyed their company. Whether it was indulging in sweets together, sharing stories, or simply engaging in playful banter, he thrived in their presence. It made me reflect on what kind of father he might one day become. I couldn't help but imagine him as the epitome of a cool, fun-loving dad—someone his children would undoubtedly adore. His inherent warmth and ability to create joyful moments would undoubtedly make him a cherished figure in his children's lives. It was a thought that filled me with a sense of certainty and warmth.

Contemplating Nagumo's future, I couldn't shake the question of whether he would ever find it within himself to settle down and create a family of his own. His career as a professional assassin, aligned with both JAA and the Order, presented formidable obstacles to such aspirations. I reflected on my cousin Taro's experience—he had made the difficult decision to exit the assassin world in order to build a family with Aoi. Their journey underscored the sacrifices and challenges inherent in balancing a life of danger with the desire for domesticity.

In contrast, my parents had boldly chosen to defy the odds, navigating the perilous waters of their profession while choosing to marry and eventually bring me into the world. Their decision to start a family despite the risks spoke volumes about their love and commitment. I had always felt their affection deeply, and their words of gratitude for having me in their lives were a testament to their unwavering devotion. I cherished the bond we shared and considered myself fortunate to call them my parents.

Turning my thoughts back to Nagumo, I couldn't help but ponder his stance on relationships and marriage. He was a different case altogether. From what I knew of him, he had never ventured into a serious romantic entanglement despite his charm and affable nature. While he had casually dated during his tenure at JCC, those interactions had never progressed beyond the superficial, likely due to the inherent risks of his profession. His profession as an assassin imposed significant barriers to forming lasting attachments, and I wondered if he harbored any desires for a more settled life.

The thought gnawed at me—did he envision a future that involved settling down and sharing his life with someone?

Presently, Nagumo remained single and unattached, with no apparent romantic interests or crushes on the horizon. If there was someone he fancied, I believed I would have been aware of it by now. And yet, despite the passing years, my own feelings for him had not waned. I still harbored a deep affection, nurtured from the innocence of childhood. Now, as a young woman, I found myself contemplating whether it was time to disclose my feelings to him.

I had grown since those innocent beginnings of admiration when I harbored a childish crush. My experiences had shaped me into a mature individual, and I knew Nagumo must see me differently now—a woman rather than the girl he had once known. If he didn't, then it was up to me to make him see me in a new light. I resolved to take the initiative in altering his perception. The thought emboldened me, stirring a resolve to confront my feelings and perhaps take a chance on love with Nagumo, despite the uncertainties that lay ahead.

The question lingered in my mind like a persistent whisper, echoing through the depths of my thoughts. If I were to muster the courage and convey my feelings to Nagumo, would he reciprocate? Could I dare to hope that he might accept me as more than a friend—a potential girlfriend, even?

It wasn't merely a matter of summoning bravery; it was about navigating the uncertainties that accompanied such a confession. Nagumo, entrenched in a perilous profession as an assassin, had forged a life defined by danger and unpredictability. His world was a stark contrast to the stability and security that traditional relationships often required. Would he be willing to venture into uncharted emotional territory, to explore the possibility of intimacy and commitment with me?

My heart fluttered with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. I had known Nagumo for years, watching him navigate life with his characteristic charm and wit. Yet, beneath his affable demeanor lay a complexity that intrigued and, at times, perplexed me. Would he view my confession as an unexpected revelation, or had he perhaps sensed the undercurrent of affection that had lingered between us?

I replayed our interactions in my mind, searching for signs—subtle hints that might indicate his feelings toward me. Had there been moments when his gaze lingered a fraction longer, or his smile held a deeper warmth? Or had I been projecting my own desires onto our friendship, seeing what I wished to see rather than what was truly there?

These questions swirled within me, intertwining with memories of shared laughter, meaningful conversations, and the undeniable bond we had forged over the years. If I were to take the leap and confess my love, would it risk our friendship, or could it potentially blossom into something more profound—a partnership built on trust, mutual respect, and a shared journey through life's uncertainties?

The thought both excited and terrified me. Yet, as I contemplated the possibility of revealing my feelings to Nagumo, I knew that uncertainty was an inevitable part of love. Perhaps, in embracing vulnerability and expressing my truth, I would discover that our connection ran deeper than I had ever imagined—a bond resilient enough to weather the challenges that lay ahead.

"Nana-chan, my dear wife?" Nagumo's teasing voice interrupted my reverie, his smirk pulling me back from my thoughts. "Looks like you're lost in deep contemplation. What's brewing in that pretty little head of yours?"

"Nothing much…" I sighed softly, a smile tugging at my lips as I took another sip of coffee before glancing affectionately at Hana, who was immersed in her delight over the ice cream. "I was just thinking how much Hana-chan is enjoying herself here."

Noticing a smear of ice cream lingering at the corner of Hana's lips, I reached out instinctively, gently wiping it away with my finger before casually licking it off. Nagumo's eyes widened slightly at the unexpected gesture. In response, he theatrically smeared a bit of cream from his pastry near his lips, turning towards me expectantly.

"Honey, could you do me a favor and wipe this off?" Nagumo's request was playful, his pout exaggerated, eliciting an eye roll and a playful scoff from me.

"Handle it yourself, hubby…" I retorted playfully, tossing a few napkins in his direction.

"Aww, Hana-chan, see how mean Mommy is?" Nagumo exaggerated further, continuing the playful charade.

"Yeah! Mommy, stop being mean to Daddy!" Hana chimed in, giggling mischievously as she joined the game.

"Okay, you two, enough!" I laughed, pretending to scold them both, before reaching out to playfully pinch their cheeks simultaneously.

Our laughter filled the air around us, creating a warm, lively atmosphere in the cozy confectionery shop. As we bantered and teased each other, I couldn't help but revel in the joy of the moment. Despite the teasing and the playful dynamics, there was an underlying warmth and closeness between us. It felt almost like a glimpse into what a real family might feel like—filled with love, laughter, and genuine affection.

The afternoon sun filtered through the windows, casting a gentle glow over our little tableau. Hana's laughter echoed in the background, blending with Nagumo's teasing banter. In that moment, surrounded by sweetness and laughter, I couldn't deny the fondness that had grown for Nagumo over the years. He had become more than a childhood friend; he was someone who understood me deeply, someone who brought lightness and joy into my life.

As we enjoyed our treats and shared moments of lightheartedness, I couldn't shake the lingering thought—the possibility of what could be if I dared to express the feelings that had been quietly simmering within me. It was a daunting prospect, yet one that held the promise of something beautiful and profound.

But for now, I was content to bask in the warmth of our playful camaraderie, savoring the simple pleasures of being together in that cozy corner of the world, where laughter flowed freely and love lingered in the air.

Read the whole fanfic on Wattpad and Quotev -

[leashybebes]

several sentence sunday

tagged by @bidisasterevankinard, mwah! bit of a change of pace from all the ally snippets (by which i mean help i'm giving myself whiplash), here's tommy just having the absolute worst day of his life in therapy (crash that truck outtake)

When Tommy arrives for his seventh session, the table that usually sits in the corner of the room has been dragged closer, a chair pulled up on each side of it. It holds sheets of paper, big ones, like the ones on a flip chart, and an assortment of pens.

"What's this?" Tommy asks.

"Something I'd like us to work on," Jon says. "A sort of timeline."

Tommy frowns, already not loving the sound of that. Jon explains, and Tommy likes it even less - major life events, things that matter to you, Tommy.

Tommy frowns, fiddling with a pen. "You already know all this shit."

Jon shrugs. "Humor me? Just start out with one thing, maybe."

Tommy huffs out a breath and picks up the pen, dragging a sheet of closer paper.

Born, he writes, cramped in a corner, making it a brief, bullet-point list. No timeline, no dates, just facts. Mom died. Army. Fire academy. 118. He hesitates. Carefully writes Abby, followed by Harbor, then Jake, then Grindr, then Evan, then crash.

And then - that's it. Tommy sucks in a breath. That's it. Another breath. Another. Another. None of them feel like they're inflating his lungs.

"...slowly, Tommy. In, two, three, four. Hold, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four."

"Fuck," Tommy gasps. "Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck." And then, because he's not a pilot anymore (he'll never be a pilot again) so he can say things like this now, he blurts out, "Sometimes I think it'd be better if I'd just died."

[apprentice-s]

assorted snippets of bassist keith information