#but for now it will remain in the soup that is my brain

[koroart]

Thinking Lambrigue thoughts and like...how cute it would be if they raised a baby together 🥺

[johndonneswife]

i’m going to hate j*ngk**k’s album so much

[bunnycvnts]

new bf!rafe getting babied while he’s sick & falling deeper in love

*+:｡.｡　　｡.｡:+*

his room was dark despite being midday, thanks to the blackout curtains shielding an array of windows lining his bedroom walls. you tiptoed carefully into the room, easing the door shut gently with your foot, your hands occupied by the tray of goodies for your sick boyfriend. on the tray was a bowl of soup, tissues, two cool washcloths, and a freshly refilled water bottle.

earlier that day, it didn’t take long for you to realize rafe had come down with something. he had been moodier than normal, sneezing and coughing unnecessarily loud, and his nose had been rubbed raw from toilet paper. you ushered him quickly into his room, telling him to nap while you ran out to grab a few things. the trip took longer than you’d thought, and by the time you arrived back to tannyhill, the boy was out cold.

rafe felt the bed dip with weight, and a groan left his lips. his eyes fluttered open and closed repeatedly as you took his temperature. “‘m fine, babe. seriously. jus’ have a cold or something.” you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, the thermometer showing a whopping 101.5 temperature, indicating a fever.

“mhm, i know. just humor me. will make me feel better knowing you’re getting some rest.” you knew how he was. he wouldn’t do anything for himself, but if it meant doing it for you…well, he could manage that. anything to please his girl. rafe nodded his head slightly, prompting you to carry on with your nurse facade.

offering the warm soup, he was quick to deny it, claiming his stomach was turning, and he definitely didn’t have any sort of appetite, so you left it on the tray resting on his desk. a moan of relief followed the cold cloth resting against his forehead and sliding down his skin.

“feels nice,” he grumbled out. your lips formed into a pout, as if you were looking at a sad puppy. he was just so cute, you couldn’t help but lean forward to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. “i know, baby.”

rafes mouth upturned at the petname, always a sucker for verbal affection. his brain felt like mush, and he wasn’t entirely sure that you weren’t some figment of his imagination. a moment of weakness, leading him to conjure up someone who knew how to relieve some of the pain he was feeling and make his heart melt at the same time.

you helped him sit up, slipping some medicine into his mouth, followed by water to help him swallow it down. his chest was bare, a light sheen of sweat sweeping across his skin. you were quick to grab the second cloth and gently run it down his chest, cleaning him off and easing the heat he felt. goosebumps rose on his skin at the cold cloth, despite his moans of relief.

his eyes had remained mostly closed, peaking at you sometimes when you’d stop touching him, wondering where you’d gone, but each time he was met with a sweet kiss to his cheek and another swipe of the cold cloth among various areas of his skin. his heart felt heavy with love as you cared for him, gazing at you each time you turned away to grab different items for him. you were like an angel, swooping down and holding his heart in your hands, bringing it back to health.

when the cloth ran warm from his heat, you placed it back on the tray, so you could use it again later after running it under some water. your hand met his forehead, trying to gauge his temperature, even though you already knew what it was.

“my poor baby, bet you feel so icky right now.” you pouted down at him, watching as his cheeks flushed deeper.

“stop it. i’m fine.” his words did nothing to stop the smile forming on his lips. he was a sucker for your sweet words. he forced his eyes open to look at you, raising his arms out to gesture you in.

“baby, you have a fever. i know you’re too warm; cuddling won’t help.” despite your response to his gesture, it didn’t take much to convince you, which you proved as you lay next to him when he grumbled at you. rafe rested his head on your skin, feeling the coolness of it against his cheek. “just for a sec, promise. jus’ a second.”

you laid there for the rest of the night, as he had quickly fallen back asleep on you. your soft skin and scent, which he loved so much, provided more comfort than a cool washcloth or some warm soup ever could.

taglist: @sunkissedrafe

[barracuda-shark-games]

Amis | he/him | 28 years old | bisexual

Notable traits: attentive, bold, gentle, sensitive, loyal, composed

Description

Handpicked from the Dawnguard (the Sunrise Palace’s elite guard) for his steadfastness and integrity, Amis has been assigned to the MC’s protection. He stands at 5’9 (175 cm) and has light brown skin, a stocky athletic build, hazel eyes, and wavy brown hair cut just below his ears. His home country of Korcome, famed for its vineyards, was voluntarily absorbed into the Dawn Empire as recently as 7 years ago. Since Korcome has no quarrel with Arevikland, it was decided that Korcomians would not be drafted into the Dawn Empire’s war with Arevikland. This detail also contributed to Amis’s assignment as the MC's personal bodyguard. Amis takes pride in his duties and has an optimistic outlook on life that some might consider naive. Don’t be fooled, however; Amis is very good at his job and when it becomes necessary, he is a force to be reckoned with.

Trivia

On romance: Of all the ROs, Amis is the most open and honest with his affections. This also puts him in a rather vulnerable position, and it means the consequences of a broken heart would be much more devastating for him…

Favorite food: Soup! Preferably in a bread bowl.

Song: ‘Nothing to be Scared Of’ by Kacey Musgraves

Come to me and drop your bags And I'll help you unpack them You're the only one I want to give my love There's nothing to be scared of

Excerpt

Under the cut for chapter 1 spoilers! Keep in mind that this is a rough draft and, therefore, may be subject to change before chapter 1 releases.

Finally, you think to yourself, some alone time. You take in your surroundings. It appears to be some sort of grand library. The room is large with the back wall mostly taken up by two-story arched windows that keep the place bathed in warm sunlight. The center of the room is occupied by a large, round marble desk laid out with an astrolabe, a globe, an adjustable magnifying tool, a simple golden scale next to a wooden lockbox, various quills and inkpots, and haphazard stacks of books and scrolls. The left and right sides of the room contain identical marble staircases that each lead to balconies housing more bookshelves and sitting areas.

As you scan the shelves on the lower level, you are startled by the sudden unmistakable sound of a vase wobbling and a whispered curse. You turn sharply towards the source and see your bodyguard adjusting a porcelain vase on its stand.

“Clumsy,” he admits with a sheepish grin, indicating himself.

You sigh. “How long have you been here?” you ask him.

He purses his lips in thought. “Hmm… how long have you been here?”

“About five minutes,” you answer.

“There’s your answer,” he says with a pleased smile that makes his hazel eyes sparkle. He folds his hands behind him and rocks back and forth on his feet.

When you let out a groan, his expression turns to a puzzled one. “Is something the matter, Your Grace?” he asks.

“You don’t have to call me that yet, you know,” you point out. “The wedding isn’t until tomorrow.”

He lets out a breezy laugh that echoes throughout the empty library. “I find it’s best to get into the habit now, actually,” he says. “I can be kind of forgetful and scatter-brained, after all.” He points to the vase as evidence.

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Is that why they’ve appointed you to my protection? They figured they’d give the job to the least competent guardsman?”

His smile hardens into something more serious, though no less warm. “I can see how it might seem that way,” he admits. “But I can assure you, my clumsiness in some areas is, if anything, attributable to my focus on protecting you. I’ll let other people worry about the finer details.” He waves a gauntleted hand in a playful dismissal.

“Well, hopefully without breaking anything,” he then adds with a chuckle. But his gaze remains focused intently on you. You passively note that the lighting in this room makes his eyes appear almost golden.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

The Pirate (Dad Squad)

EVERYBODY COME GET YOUR LINEBECK SOUP!!

Abel shook the strange feeling off of himself as they stepped through the gate created by the item. If it had led them here, that likely meant its twin had opened a portal to this land as well.

Blinking a few times to reorient after the brief kaleidoscope of light, Abel took in the sight of a bright sun, the smell of sea salt, and the sound of crashing waves. They were obviously by the ocean, though he had no idea where in particular, or what sea. He only knew of the Lanayru Sea, but tales spoke of other bodies of water that rivaled it.

Rusl walked ahead first, adapting quickly, eyes alert but face placid. Abel watched the Fierce Deity walk after him, unreadable as usual.

Something clearly caught their attention as they stood at the edge of the dock, staring. Abel peeked around them, wondering what it was, when he caught sight of the scene.

A ship was sinking. But it was moving towards them. Its deck had just been submerged, and its mast was all that was remaining. A man stood atop it, glaring ahead fiercely as if willing the boat to make it to the dock in time, but his posture was proud as if this had been planned all along.

What in the world...?

The mast managed to reach the dock in the nick of time, allowing the man to step off. He blew out a sigh, looking like his knees were about to buckle, when he caught sight of the group of men. He sized them up quickly, eyes widening a little at the sight of the deity, and then waved sharply. "How's it going? I'm just passing through. Gotta go now. Important things to do."

"Wait," Rusl interrupted, stepping into his way. "Can you tell us where we are?"

The man blinked, hackles less raised, confusion evident. "Where you--this is Mercay Island. How do you not know that? What, you get clocked by those red spandex wearing freakshows too?"

Abel immediately stiffened. "The Yiga were here?!"

"The who?" the man bounced back, looking even more confused as the wind whipped through his dark brown hair.

"It's a group of demon worshippers," Rusl explained. "They've taken our sons. We're tracking them. Where did you see them?"

The man's face flushed, eyebrows coming together in outrage. "They took someone of mine as well! And he's my best crewmate! Well, he's my only crewmate, but that isn't the point! I came here in search of a new ship to track them down since they--they sunk--"

Here the man sniffled, glancing away in seeming anguish at the lost of his boat.

"I'm sorry about your ship," Rusl said appeasingly. "But perhaps we can help each other."

The man hummed, crossing his arms and squinting at them as if he were debating the matter.

Abel started to grow impatient. "Do you want to find your crewmate or not?"

"Don't get short with me!" the man snapped. "I am Linebeck, captain of the seas, and I know this place better than anyone, especially you guys. I'm your only chance to find those freaks, so you're going to take orders from me now!"

The Fierce Deity picked the greasy looking man by the back of his coat, bringing him to eye level. The man, in turn, squealed, flailing his arms and legs in a desperate maneuver to get out of the hold, yelling, "LET ME GO, YOU BEACHED WHALE!"

Abel glanced at the deity, tempted to tell him to toss the man into the sea, but if he truly had seen the Yiga, then they unfortunately needed his help. Rusl just sighed, seeming to grow a little tired of being the sole negotiator of the group.

"How do you propose we find the Yiga if your ship has been damaged?" Fierce asked, silencing the man's squeals. "If I retrieve it, will you be able to repair it expediently?"

"Retrieve--it's sinking into the sea, you small brained land mass!"

Abel did have to almost laugh at that one. Rusl looked unimpressed by the man's impolite demeanor, but at least his insults were entertaining. Nevertheless, they needed to move.

Fierce seemed to sense Abel's impatience and Rusl's disapproval, casually tossing the sailor aside as he walked up to the mast. The man spluttered, shakily trying to get to his feet before promptly falling back on to his backside as he watched the deity singlehandedly start to pull the ship out of the water with a firm grasp at its mast. Abel heard the wood start to give, though, not tolerating the force it took to fight the water crushing the rest of the ship, and he put a hand on Fierce's shoulder. "Let it go. We'll have to find another way."

Rusl turned to Linebeck. "We'll work with you, friend, but not for you. Understood?"

Linebeck gulped, still trying to process what he just saw, and then he huffed, rising. "F-fine. Whatever. But I'm still in charge."

Abel felt his eyebrows pinch together. "That's not--"

"Let's go!" Linebeck announced, twirling around and marching towards the island. "I know just the ship we can acquire."

The three trudged behind him somewhat reluctantly. Abel bristled at being given orders from someone like this, but he kept his mouth shut for now. Instead, it was the sea captain who spoke first.

"So... what are all your names?" he asked as he continued to stride ahead.

The Ordonian answered first. "I'm Rusl. This is Abel, and Fierce."

"Fierce?" Linebeck repeated, glancing back at him. "Weird name."

"It is my title," Fierce clarified.

"Title? Who calls you Fierce? Fierce what, Fierce Breaker of Personal Boundaries?"

This man talked entirely too much.

"What's the plan?" Abel asked before the conversation could continue.

"That ship," Linebeck said, pointing towards a relatively large ship sitting in the harbor. "We can use that to track those scum."

"If you already had another ship, why were you perturbed at the loss of your other one?" Fierce questioned.

"It's not his," Abel surmised quickly.

Rusl smiled, rolling his shoulders. "All right, then. Who owns it?"

Abel glanced over at the Ordonian, a little baffled. He still hadn't entirely wrapped his head around what kind of work this man did - he was the most polite and kind of the group, easy with people, yet he condoned stealing in a heartbeat.

Not that Abel wouldn't steal if he had to, but... he had to. Rusl was... he didn't know. This just certainly was not the first time the man had done it, that was for sure.

And clearly, this sailor was more akin to a pirate.

Sighing heavily, Abel listened as Linebeck prattled on about some women "who won't be a problem," and the three men started moving steadily towards the boat.

Surprisingly, it only seemed to have two women aboard - Linebeck claimed that the rest of the crew was at the market. That at least made things simpler.

The four moved quickly. Rusl crouched low, leading the way and pulling out a dagger he hid in his belt. Despite being quite the swordsman, Abel had observed that Rusl often resorted to a dagger in close combat, and the more he saw it, the more he questioned the blacksmith's occupation. Fierce, on the other hand, left his hands open, likely not wanting to use his powerful blade on a couple women guarding a ship. Linebeck was also unarmed, curiously.

Sighing, Abel unsheathed his sword. He caught up to Rusl, and the two rushed up the gangway, picking a target and quickly overpowering them. Rusl never unsheathed his dagger, only using its small hilt to smack the woman across the temple, knocing her unconscious and covering her mouth as she fell. Her companion caught sight of him before Abel could get to her, yelling, but Abel easily tossed her overboard while Rusl pushed the other down the ramp.

Fierce walked aboard next, glancing around, while Linebeck sauntered aboard. The pirate's face was tight, as if he hadn't quite expected the ferocity the men had displayed, but he tried to cover it with a quick little, "Well done. Now we can depart."

"Not yet," Fierce said quietly, his voice in that low tone he used when stalking prey. Abel immediately went alert, whirling to find what he was looking at, when--

"Intruders!!"

Turning sharply, Abel saw a woman pointing from a door leading below deck. Within an instant, at least ten other women appeared, all armed and snarling.

"You said they were in the market!" Abel yelled as he readied for a fight.

Linebeck didn't reply, seemingly vanishing into thin air, and Abel only caught sight of his blue tailcoats slipping under a barrel.

"Did--did he just--"

"Not now!" Rusl snapped as their enemies charged on them.

Abel focused quickly, dodging a strike from a nearby fighter before parrying her blade and kicking her away to create some distance. Thankfully, he still had at least one functional shield left, and he quickly used it to block a jab from another enemy. Before he could retaliate, the two women were swept away by a... screaming woman?

Abel glanced to his right to see Fierce holding one of the fighters by her wrist and using her as a weapon to ram into the others. At his questioning glance, the deity explained, "The little hero usually does not approve of killing mortals. If these women prove problematic, I'll eliminate them, but for now--"

"Behind you!" Abel interrupted, pointing as another fighter tried to leap off the rail of the deck and stab Fierce in the head. The deity swatted her like a fly, and she rammed into the opposite end of the ship.

"Jolene!" some of the others shouted. Abel immediately perked up at the reaction - clearly this woman was important, maybe even the leader.

"Toss her off!" Abel ordered the deity, moving to intercept a few other enemies. He glanced to his left to check on Rusl and found the Ordonian starting to accumulate a pile of enemies who were on the ground writhing or motionless.

The former knight felt a swell of pride for his friend before looking back to see Fierce easily throwing the leader off the ship. As predicted, the others followed to check on her, leaving the men in peace temporarily. Abel put his sword and shield away to pull out his bow and arrows while Rusl pulled the gangway up to prevent them from returning. Moving to the edge of the ship, Abel nocked the arrow, aiming for a second before letting it fly. It sank into the woman's shoulder, making her scream in pain.

He nocked another arrow.

"Abel," Rusl interrupted, putting a hand on his shoulder. "The fight is over."

Abel continued to stare at his target. Killing her would put the rest of her crew into chaos. It would prevent them from following them.

Rusl's hand tightened a little, reassuring but firm. "Abel."

Sighing, Abel slowly lowered the bow and arrow. His focus was interrupted as he heard splashing, glancing over to see Fierce throwing the bodies overboard.

There was a scrape of wood on wood, catching the men's attention, and they all drew their weapons to see--

Linebeck, peeking out from under the barrel. "Oh, are they all gone?"

I'm going to kill him. Abel marched forward, eyes alight with rage, when he was held back by Fierce, who pinched the back of his tunic to prevent him from moving ahead. He turned to snap at the deity, but his words were quickly overrun by the pirate, who dusted himself off and continued, "Well done, then! We're ready to set sail! I'll man the helm."

As he moved forward on the deck, he scurried all of a sudden, filled with seemingly feral energy, and stood on his tiptoes at the railing, shouting, "THAT'S FOR ALMOST BLOWING UP MY SHIP TWO WEEKS AGO, JOLENE!"

Before anyone could comment, he rushed to set sail as if his life depended on it, guiding the ship out to sea.

Abel blew out a frustrated breath, and he felt Fierce release him. He kicked the barrel under which the pirate had been hiding, taking little satisfaction from it but having to get his anger out somehow.

Rusl took a moment to calm himself as well, though far less noticeably, before he walked over to the wheel. "So where are we going?"

"Bannan Island," Linebeck answered, eyes on the horizon. "That was the direction they went, towards the north sea. They also claimed to be going to a Banana Island, so I think they heard the place's name wrong."

Banana Island. Goddess. Sometimes Abel was almost embarrassed that these were his enemies. Though it simply proved that sheer numbers could cause enough of a threat, despite how idiotic they were.

There was silence for a while as Marcay Island grew steadily smaller. The adrenaline of the fight wore off, and Abel slowly slid to the ground, feeling his stomach grow steadily more upset at the tossing of the waves.

"Who are these people, anyway?" Linebeck eventually asked, glancing at Rusl. "What do they want?"

"They essentially want to see the world burn," Rusl answered, crossing his arms. "Somehow that involves taking our sons hostage."

Linebeck pursed his lips, debating some issue, and sighed. "Well, that's rotten luck. Good thing you have me."

"Oh yes," Abel huffed. "Where would we be without you?"

Linebeck didn't seem to catch his quip, or if he did, his rebuttal was interrupted by Fierce asking, "Why did they take your crewmate?"

Linebeck's face soured, and he glared ahead of him at nothing in particular. "Whatever the reason, Link can probably get himself of out of it. But... I need a crew. So I'm finding the kid."

Link?!

No. Surely not. There was no way this disgrace of a man had a Hero in his crew, and--

Oh goddess he did, didn't he? That would be why the Yiga targeted him.

"Our boys are named Link too," Rusl said, eyes widening a little as he came to the same conclusion. "Heroes of Hyrule, spread across time. I think they must be targeting them because they know they'd stop them otherwise."

"Heroes? Hyrule?" Linebeck repeated, staring at him. "My kid isn't a--I mean, he's--look, he's my crew, and... he's a good kid, but..."

The pirate bit his lip, staring at the wheel a moment, still and silent. Worry etched every feature before he shook his head.

"The Yiga will perish," Fierce assured him. "We'll find your child."

Linebeck flushed. "H-he's not my child!!"

"Right," Rusl chuckled, patting the man on the back.

Abel sighed, ignoring the pirate temporarily and looking at at sea. The horizon bounced up and down along with the ship, giving him a headache, and he closed his eyes. He wondered if they'd actually have any luck this time - all they'd found were scraps of information and cold leads. This attack seemed fairly fresh, so hopefully they could make it in time.

Ugh. Closing his eyes made the seasickness worse.

Thunder rumbled, catching Abel's attention, and he hastily opened his eyes to see dark clouds ahead. "Uh..."

"Are we going to sail through the storm?" Fierce questioned, staring at the abysmal weather.

"No sailor goes through a storm on purpose," Linebeck immediately said. "That's just suicide. Lucky for you, I'm an excellent sailor. We'll skirt around it - I don't want to lose too much time."

At least Abel could agree with the man on that. But still... even he, someone who did not navigate the ocean, knew not to get near a storm out in the open sea. "Are we sure about this? We should probably try to avoid it altogether."

"And give those sea vipers time to get away?" Linebeck growled, glaring at the clouds. "Ha! I, Linebeck, master of the seas, can handle this just fine! I'm getting my crew back, blast it!"

Well... he couldn't fault him for his determination, at least. But still... Abel sighed, hugging the wooden support rung under the railing, lightly bouncing his forehead against it. "We're going to die."

Abel's relatively mild quip felt more and more like a promise the closer they got. The winds picked up, the sea turning a sickly green, and Abel nearly threw up with how much they were being tossed around. Rusl nearly flew across the ship as one wave almost overturned them, and Fierce had to grab him by his shirt to save him. The three men clung to the rail desperately, occasionally getting beaten by walls of water spilling overtop them.

Abel looked to the helm worriedly, feeling completely out of control and petrified, only to see Linebeck standing firmly, holding the wheel with a steel grip. He glared defiantly at the sea, almost daring it to try its worst, confident and firm in his stance.

At the sight, the former knight had to admit he felt almost a little reassured.

Another wave crashed into them, and Abel watched Linebeck release the wheel a moment, letting it turn sharply, guiding the ship to ride with the wave. Then he grasped it, guiding the mast with gritted teeth as he fought against the whipping winds. Fierce pulled Abel close, shielding both him and Rusl with an iron grip to the railing so the waves wouldn't knock them off.

Honestly, with the way they were getting tossed, Abel would be surprised if they didn't capsize. He clung desperately to both the rail and the Fierce Deity, feeling the mythical being's strong arm pressing him and Rusl closer together. Rusl and Abel exchanged a look, some kind of finality or certainty in each other's eyes as they nearly flew over another wave, facing it head on.

They still had to find their boys. Abel had to get back to Tilieth. He'd survived a damn apocalypse, he wasn't letting this be what killed him.

Glancing up at the pirate again, Abel saw the same fierce determination on his face. It was a promise, and despite how Abel's entire world was trying to kill him, he took comfort in it.

Abel closed his eyes, his forehead touching Fierce's sleeve, his hand brushing against Rusl's as they both held on to the deity for dear life, shivering and trusting and letting go.

Hylia... I leave this up to you. Don't let me down.

He lost track of time. All he heard was the crashing of waves, like claps of thunder, roaring in his ears, making his heart pound. But slowly, surely, the boat jostled them less, the wind didn't howl as it had, and the ship rocked and bounced up and down like a hammock instead of feeling like an earthquake.

Abel opened his eyes, dripping wet, tasting salt and bile, and saw sunlight.

Linebeck smiled down at them, hands on his hips, looking triumphant. "Told you I was the best."

Rusl barked out a laugh, slowly rising while Abel continued to shiver in Fierce's hold. "Well, I'm certainly impressed."

"Are you alright?" Fierce whispered softly, his arm shifting to rest his hand on Abel's back.

Hesitantly, Abel rose, testing his legs, though his knees certainly felt like they could give out at any moment.

It was official. He despised sailing.

But he could recognize and admire skill when he saw it. "Well done, Linebeck."

The pirate beamed, postiively preening at the praise, and Abel found he couldn't hold himself together any longer, leaning over the rail and vomiting.

Linebeck cackled quietly, heading back to his original spot. "Well, it isn't for everyone, I guess. But I promise the rest of the way is less rough."

Rusl helped Abel sink back to the floor while Fierce grabbed some water at the Ordonian's request.

"You good?" Rusl asked. He was shivering too, just as soaked to the bone as Abel, but he seemed far better put together.

"Nothing fazes you, does it?" Abel asked hoarsely, somewhat annoyed and jealous.

Rusl smirked. "We all have our strengths. You're certainly a better fighter than me."

If you say so. Abel pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a little less nauseous, and accepted the water Fierce offered him.

The sun slowly dried everyone off as they continued to make their way to their destination. Eventually, Rusl, being the talkative man that he was, starting gently interrogating their captain while Abel leaned against Fierce with his eyes closed. The deity didn't mind, letting himself be a pillow, but Abel could hear fabric shift as he turned to listen in to the other two.

"How did Link become part of your crew?"

"Well, I was hunting treasure," Linebeck explained. "Link wanted to find the ship I was looking for. His friend, uh, needed some help. So we worked together. I figured the kid worked so well it only made sense that he stick around. He..."

Here the pirate paused, and Abel looked over at him. His eyes were cast downward, and though shadows pulled at the dark circles under his eyes, he had a gentle smile on his face.

"He's a good kid."

Fierce sighed quietly, barely audible over the breeze. "I must figure out why these Yiga are after our children."

Linebeck grew flustered. "I said he wasn't my kid!! Look, he's just a useful member of the crew, okay? Honestly, I'm not that soft!"

Fierce blinked, the slightest crinkle to his nose, a dead giveaway that he was bemused. "You speak of love and affection as if they are weaknesses."

"Wha--I--this is silly, I am a pirate, and--"

"And?" Rusl prompted, eyebrows raised, a mischievous, gentle smile pulling at one corner of his mouth. Fierce may not have understood the man's blustering, but Rusl clearly was just trying to mess with him now, seeing right through his bravado.

Personally, Abel was just a little exasperated by it. Men who pretended they were "tough" and nothing affected them all the time simply to show off annoyed him. He used to maintain a calm façade not because he was trying to prove a point, but because the last thing people needed was to see someone in charge panicking. This was different. This wasn't a way to keep others feeling safe and secure, this wasn't a means of protecting others, this was a pitiful attempt for Linebeck to protect himself.

Perhaps it wouldn't annoy him so much if he didn't suspect the man behaved this way in front of his kid too. He could act a fool to others, but if he denied his affection for his boy right in front of him, Abel did not approve of that.

But he didn't have to say anything. Fierce's innocent confusion would tear down his argument well enough.

Linebeck huffed, looking like he was scrambling for an argument, but Abel had to interrupt it when he caught sight of something. "Is that land?"

Everyone turned to look, seeing a small splotch of yellow and black andd green, and Linebeck laughed triumphantly. "There it is! Land ho! I told you I would get us there in record time! Now hold on, you sorry land slugs, we're coming in fast!"

He was true to his word as it seemed to take little time to reach their destination. For once, it was blessedly easy to find their target - a large ship with the Yiga symbol on its mast, painted sloppily as if it had just been done, was at the port. Linebeck worked to slow their approach, when Abel instead insisted, "Don't slow us down, just ram it - we'll take care of the rest!"

"There's a cannon on this ship," Rusl noted.

"We can't risk hurting the boys if they're aboard," Abel argued, shaking his head. "Just damage it enough to stop them from escaping, and we can board."

Linebeck nodded. "Just so you know... it's uh, all up to you once we get there. I'm a fantastic fighter, but I'm afraid my sword is on my own ship."

Rusl and Abel both stared at him dully. "Right."

The men prepared themselves, weapons at the ready. Fierce pulled out his double helix blade, making Linebeck's eyes double in size. "Geez, overkill much? Get ready, we'll hit them on the port side."

"The--the what side?"

"Port, on the port--ugh, on your left!!"

The three moved, and Linebeck snapped, "Your other left!! Left from facing the bow!"

Abel sighed heavily, positioning himself and bracing for impact alongside the other two. As the Yiga ship grew closer at an admittedly unnerving rate, he prepared to jump.

Their boat slammed the Yiga ship, impaling its hull slightly and causing it to rock so severely that they could hear some of the enemies screaming and falling into the sea.

Linebeck roared in satisfaction. "HAHA, TAKE THAT YOU BRAINLESS JELLYFISH!"

Abel let the momentum of the movement carry him, Rusl, and Fierce across as they leapt with the contact. The Yiga boat was still nearly on its side when they landed, causing them to slip a little, but Abel recovered quickly, decapitating the first Yiga in sight before moving on to the next. The team moved quickly, with Fierce taking out swathes of the enemy in one fell swoop while Rusl tore ahead. Abel scoured the area for signs of a leader, entering the underbelly of the ship as well.

When he reached the brig, he froze, breath stolen from his lungs. There was another gate there, its bright kaleidoscope dizzyingly swirling, and two Yiga stood before it, holding an unconscious boy.

Oh hell no! Charging ahead, Abel stabbed one Yiga quickly, kicking the other off the child before finishing him off. Rusl hastened in shortly thereafter, wiping blood of his sword.

"Anyone else?" Abel asked as he knelt down to check on the child.

Rusl shook his head, cheeks flushed, eyes aflame. He held up a booklet. "Found a journal log, though. Might be able to help us."

At this point, Abel honestly wasn't surprised, just exasperated. He supposed the Yiga's main purpose in being here was to take this boy. Theirs were still at large.

At least they'd spared this boy the same fate.

Fierce entered last. "The enemy has been eliminated."

Abel sighed, looking down. The boy in front of him was young, not even a teenager from the looks of it, though he was likely close. His hair was thick and wispy, golden as the sands and thick with mositure and sea salt. He wore a green tunic and undershirt, paired with white trousers.

"Link!"

Catching the men's attention, Linebeck rushed into the room, kneeling down beside the boy. His hands hovered over him hesitantly, face paling at the abrasions on the boy's face. At first his concern was genuine, but his eyes shifted to the dead Yiga around him and suddenly he looked woozy.

Abel fought the urge to roll his eyes. He motioned with his head to Fierce, who quietly removed the bodies. With the distraction gone, the pirate returned his attention to the child, considerably less pale but still oh so hesitant and gentle with Link.

The boy stirred, squeezing his eyes before slowly blinking them open. Abel could see the immediate sparkle of relief as the boy registered seeing Linebeck, and the former knight smiled a little.

Linebeck smiled in return, hands finally settling on the child, patting hsi cheek and helping him sit up. His grip settled on the boy's shoulders, and he took a steadying breath.

And then he started shaking him like a rag doll.

"You stupid sea monkey, what were you thinking do you have any idea how much trouble I had to go through just to get to you, they sank my ship, now we have to get a new one--!"

The other men stared, a little caught off guard, and then Rusl gently pointed out, "Easy, you're going to give the kid whiplash."

Linebeck paused, glancing at them, leaving Link nearly limp in his grip, eyes dazed and clearly dizzy. The pirate huffed, pulling the boy to his feet, and Link stumbled around a few paces before nearly collapsing against him.

Sighing, Linebeck settled an arm around the child to keep him from falling over, letting him lean against him. "Well. The job's done, at least. But... didn't you say your boys were missing too?"

Rusl smirked. "Ah, so he is your boy?"

Linebeck jumped, eyes widening. "W-wha--no, I--you're dodging the question!"

Rusl waved the booklet in response. "I'm sure this log will have valuable information for us. But you and your son should get out of here. We'll make sure the Yiga can't come back."

Linebeck was practically inflating with hot air to rebuke Rusl's claims about him and Link, but he instead stormed out. "Honestly, I rescue you ungrateful sea barnacles and you mock me. I'm leaving."

"You forgot your kid," Abel noted dully as the boy shook his head and steadied himself.

"Link, let's go, what are you waiting for!" Linebeck called from above deck.

Abel put a steadying hand on the boy's shoulder while Rusl smiled warmly at him. "Better get going, son."

The boy looked between them, adn then the Fierce Deity, and then he nodded, saying softly, "Thank you. Thank you for taking care Linebeck."

With that, the kid ran outside, and Rusl laughed. Abel had to chuckle at the ridiculousness of it all.

"Let's get through this gate and seal it," Abel suggested. "We can read the journal after we get out of here. The less likely they can come back, the better."

Fierce's reply was cut off by voices from above.

"Linebeck, look! It's Jolene's ship!"

"Of course it is, I stole it!"

"But then why is your ship over there?"

"What?! My ship was--that's my ship!"

"Oh! I think I see Jolene on it!"

"She fixed my ship? SHE STOLE MY SHIP??"

Rusl and Abel exchanged a look, and then they both snickered.

Fierce glanced hesitantly above deck, but Abel shook his head. "Leave him to his fate. Clearly this is not their first encounter, and they've managed without us. We should go."

With that, the three men strode forward, preparing for another adventure.

[sandflakedraws]

Hi! I have been a huge fan of your art for a long while now; I hope this isn't terribly, horribly rude but do you know when/if commissions will be open again?

It's totally fine if the answer is "not for a long time/ever", I'm just curious because I would love to commission you one day.

Have a lovely day or night, whichever! I will continue to enjoy your art like a delicious soup :)

Don't worry, I don't think this is a rude question! Hopefully the response isn't more than u bargained for.

Alas though, the truest answer is also the vaguest: I'm not??? Sure??

Rather, I'd like to open them again, but I need to be thoughtful about how and when I do it.

recently, the internet landscape has helped shed some light on the subject of ADHD, how it affects people, what forms it can take, and i have had some revelations regarding my relationship to it.

namely that i very . very likely,,, have it.

not sure why it never occurred to me despite having siblings and cousins with it, but either way.

What matters here is that sometimes, my brain constructs a wall of agony around doing a commission. Seemingly at random, it'll hit me with a constant button press of "not gonna! wrong! stop!" I never understood why. I had previously thought that I'd just been having some sort of temporary funk, and that one day I'd wake up and it would just. not be there. Y'know, like my executives would function.

So... it has been common for some very patient, sweet, compassionate commissioners to have waited months, even years before they received what they'd rightfully paid for.

... I hate that I'm capable of that. I don't want to be That Guy.

After having recontextualized the problem from 'temporary haze' to 'state of being' it's been easier to recognize what I need to do.

If I open commissions again, I need to figure out a way to keep ADHD brain from forming walls around the task. One thing I've decided for certain is that I've gotta switch to a multi-payment method. Ergo, the commissioner would pay a little up front, and the rest when I finish. Other than that though, I've been drawing a blank.

Until I get that settled, my commission status will remain in limbo.

[sv5hive]

frosting makeover | sv5

pairing: sebastian vettel x reader

warning(s): mentions of drinking, written at midnight, barely proofread

word count: 937

note: a bit short and a bit late but ofc i had to post something for my favourite old man's birthday!!

masterlist!

you had been hard at work in the kitchen since the early hours of the morning while your husband made himself useful at the factory. it was one of the most important days of the year and you had every intention of making it a grand event for the love of your life.

sebastian had said that his birthday wasn't a big deal and that he didn't expect anything special. but if he had learnt anything from his time with you, it was that you believed everyone should be treated like royalty on their special day; after all, it's only one day out of three hundred and sixty five.

in an ideal world, sebastian would have the day off and you would wake him up with breakfast in bed but nevertheless, you would make the most of a bad deal and instead whip up a three course dinner including a birthday cake fit for a king. so, not long after sebastian had pressed a kiss onto your forehead to say goodbye before heading out for work, you got out of bed and readied yourself to create a birthday extravaganza for the man who loved you like no other.

after gruelling away hard at work, you had finally finished decorating the cake with a crude portrait of sebastian with his car and started cleaning up the remaining frosting and stray sprinkles scattered all over the counter. glancing at the clock, you realised he would be home any moment so you decided to change into a more appropriate outfit and set the table ready for you two. as you placed the wine glasses down on the table, you heard the front door click shut as sebastian kicked his shoes off.

"schatz? i'm home! where are you?" he called out from the hallway.

"in here!" you replied back, standing in the dining room in front of the product of your love and labour.

"there you are- what's all this?" he questioned, the corners of his lips curling upwards.

"happy birthday, love! you didn't actually think i wasn't going to make a big deal out of this, right?"

you couldn't hold yourself back anymore as you practically threw yourself into sebastian's arms and planted a kiss on his lips.

"you look even more beautiful than you do normally."

"yeah, yeah, you can compliment me later. now come on! i've been waiting a while already and the food's going to get cold if we keep standing around like idiots!"

you pulled him towards the table decorated with candles, swan napkins and a single rose in a glass vase in the centre. ushering sebastian into his chair, you poured two glasses of wine for yourselves and shortly brought out the first course to begin dinner.

"liebe, this is incredible! how long did this take you?" he asked, tasting a spoonful of the soup.

"oh it's nothing, seb. this is the least i could do when you treat me like this all the time."

he reached across the table and grasped your hand in his before pausing to speak.

"it's not nothing but thank you, schatz, really. i would be completely helpless without you in my life."

in the dim candle light, you dined and got increasingly more drunk throughout the night while discussing everything from this morning's news to workplace gossip. eventually, it was time to get the cake out and have the birthday boy blow out the candles.

as you quietly sang happy birthday to sebastian, he took the chance to engrave this moment into his brain - not everybody gets to spend their birthday with their soulmate but he was one of the lucky ones. he didn't ever think he would be part of the minority who could say they had truly found their person but the universe had other plans for him. so, as you gently encouraged him to make a wish, he simply asked whatever higher being that may exist, to never let it end. he wanted you and your silly birthday cakes with way too much frosting to be allowed on his strict diet for the rest of time.

"tell me, what did you wish for?" you hounded him while removing the candles and cutting a slice for each of you.

"i can't tell you otherwise it won't come true! sorry, schatz." he replied, a sly grin growing on his face.

"what? are you serious? we've been together for how many years now and you still won't tell me what you wish for every year." you playfully called him out as he took a bite of the cake.

"i don't make the rules, okay! hate the game not the player. besides, i wish for the same thing every year and it seems to be working so i really can't tell you."

"oh really? okay, if you say so. how's the cake?" you asked, eating your own slice.

"perfect. everything's perfect, you are perfect. thank you, again."

"i'm glad, you deserve nothing less."

just as sebastian was about to reply, he felt a cool sensation land on the side of his mouth.

"are you serious, schatz?"

"hm? i don't know what you're talking about. oh, you have a little something there by the way." you said, looking up from your plate and pointing to your own face.

"oh, do i?"

"mhm. here, i can get it for you." you quickly stood from your side of the table and kissed the corner of his mouth and returned to your seat. you could only resist for a few seconds before swiping frosting onto the tip of sebastian's nose.

"oh that is it!"

[ghostofthemost141]

Essence

Pairing: Ghost x F!Reader, First POV, no use of (Y/N)

Word Count: 2,264

Themes: Fluff, Comfort, Suggestive Themes and talk so !18+!

About: After Simon comes home from a rough mission, you decide to pamper him.

Notes: I feel like Ghost would be vulnerable to his partner after they have been together for a long time because mans has a lot of pent up trauma and emotions he needs to let out. Name for you here is Sage. And I am sorry if this feels rushed, I just have been busy and wanted to get this out. Enjoyy!!

“Si..” 

I almost didn’t see him walking through the front door as I was in the kitchen. His shoulders were flat and his movements were slow and monotone. 

“Sage..” Simon softly said as I placed my hands on his chest. 

“Love, take all this off of you.” I suggest, messing with the clips of his tactical vest. 

“Hm.” Simon mumbled as he let me unclip his vest and pull them off of his chest. 

“I’ll take it.” Simon said. 

I nodded as I handed him the vest and he went and put it in the garage. I just hope he is up for some warm homemade soup that I made. Tomato soup with some grilled cheese. It was a rainy, cold day so soup was a good call. Simon likes my cooking, I just hope he is alright with it. Simon came back in, all of his gear gone from his body. 

“There’s my racoon.” I joke, referring to the black paint that was still around his face. 

“Oh shite.” Simon chuckled. 

“I made some homemade tomato soup and I can make grilled cheese if you want.” I told him as I followed him into the bathroom. 

“That sounds lovely. I’ll take a grilled cheese, if you don’t mind.” 

Simon turned the sink on to carefully wipe the face paint off so as to not stain the white sink we have. I leaned in and kissed his cheek, quickly but passionately. 

“Of course I don’t mind, Si.” I reassure him. 

His doe brown eyes stared into mine, but I could tell he was tired. Very tired, but he was happy to be home. 

“I’ll give you a minute and go make your grilled cheese.” I announce. 

“Thanks, Sage.” Simon thanked me. 

I smiled at him as I turned, left the bathroom and went into the kitchen. Even though I am always happy for Simon to be back home, I always give him a minute or so to be alone so he can wind down and decompress and become Simon Riley again and not Ghost, even though that mask of his looks so damn sexy on him. Both the skull mask and the balaclava skull mask. I smeared some butter on both inside and outside the bread, put a slice of cheddar, muenster, and american cheese into the bread, put it together and put it face down onto the hot pan on the stove. Suddenly I felt a pair of hands behind me, but I didn’t fret. 

“Simon, you scared me.” I half joked, “your alias name is true to its name.” 

Simon chuckled, leaning his face into my neck, placing a kiss on it. Although I love Simon, he was being overly affectionate this time. I wonder if something happened while he was deployed. I felt his hands land on my hips, massaging them. He always knew what spots to get with me. I flipped his grilled cheese, a perfect golden brown color being revealed. 

“Just how I like ‘em.” Simon said, feeling his hands sink lower. 

I pretended to not notice what he was doing, but I was secretly enjoying it. Simon’s hands then went down to my ass, his big hands cupping each cheek. 

“Simon Riley!” I jokingly disciplined him. 

“Wha’, my love?” 

“You’re gonna make me burn your grilled cheese.” 

Simon just chuckled, kissing my neck passionately. 

“I missed ya.” 

“I missed you too, Simon.” 

Simon moved his hands around my waist, brought me close to his chest, and he leaned his head onto my neck, just holding me. Simon's grilled cheese was done and I took it off the pan and onto a plate. Simon remained silent but it was normal once he got the ‘I missed you so much’ hug and kiss out of the way when he first got home. I like to think it's his brain trying to decompress from being out in the field and remind himself that he is home now. Simon and I sat at the dining table, eating in silence. I wanted to converse with him, but I also wanted to give him as much space as he wanted before overwhelming him. I noticed then that Simon had finished his bowl of soup and his entire sandwich. 

“Did you like it?” 

“I did. It was the best bloody fucking thing I had in a long time.” Simon commented, making me chuckle. 

“Do you want some more? I made plenty.” I offered. 

Simon went silent, eyeing the big pot of soup that sat on the warm burner on the stove. He shook his head. 

“Are you sure?” 

Simon nodded again, without speaking. 

“Is everything alright, love?” I ask, reaching for Simon's hand and holding it. 

Simon held back softly and gently as if he was afraid I would crack easily like glass. 

“Yes.” 

Just by his plain response, I could tell he had a rough mission, whatever it was that he did. He tells me some but I don't want to know a whole lot unless he wants me to know. Simon silently got up with his dishes and went and put them on the sink, washing them. 

“Love, go sit down and relax.” I half joked, approaching him. 

Simon didn't say anything. He just kept washing his dish. 

“Simon.” I called him. 

Finally he stopped, turned and looked at me. I was about to demand to talk to him, but his doe eyes stopped me in my tracks. They pierced mine, as if he was trying to non verbally tell me something. His shoulders were down and his body was limp. Relaxed. 

“Let's go freshen up in the bath. Hm?” I suggested. 

Simon did a half smile. 

“Okay.” 

I cleaned up the soup mess quickly and then led Simon to our master bathroom. I held his hand the whole time and I could feel his body relaxed but tense at the same time. I knew asking him about what's wrong would be useless. He will tell me when he wants to. 

“Bath or shower?” 

“You pick, Sage.” 

I wanted to dedicate this to him and him only, even if he thinks he doesn't deserve it. I walked over to the faucets and turned them on, making sure the water was at a good temperature. Once it was at a good hot temperature, I pulled the drain plug up to clog the hole. 

“Oh.” I mumbled as I turned around to see Simon undressing himself. 

“Wha'?” 

“Oh nothing.” I smirked as I walked up to him. 

I placed my hands on his chest, feeling his rough but soft skin. Simon didn't bore a six pack but he was definitely muscular in the arms and upper chest. He was good looking to me no matter what but his chest has to come to be my favorite pillow. He had a few scars on his chest due to his years in the Task Force but I think they make him more attractive and they each tell a story that he has already told me. 

“You're so pretty.” I mumbled, rubbing my hands up and down his chest. 

“I'd like to think that you're prettier than me.” 

“Stop it, Simon. You're beautiful.” 

I planted a small kiss on his shoulder, hearing a soft rumble come from him. I turned back around to find the tub was full so I went and turned the faucets off. I stood there and waited for Simon, who was left in his boxers. 

“You gettin’ in?” 

“You first. I want to pamper you.” 

Simon was a little surprised by my response but obliged. He then pulled his boxers off of his body, and slowly stepped into the bath, wincing in the process. 

“You okay?” I got close to the tub. 

“Y-Yea’. Just bloody fucking sore.” 

“I'm sorry.” 

“Not your fault, love.” Simon said. 

“Where are you sore at?” 

“Me back.” 

I immediately went through the bathroom cabinets and drawers, eventually finding what I wanted. Massage oil. 

“I got you, Si.” I say. 

Simon eyed the massage oil and then back to me. 

“Please.” 

Simon grumbled as he leaned forward, giving his back full access to me. I put some oil onto my hand and rubbed it onto his upper back. 

“Hmhm. Fuck.” Simon grumbled. 

“Is that it?” 

I immediately felt stupid asking that. No, Sage, that can't be where it hurts the most if he curses in pain. 

“Yes. Right ‘here.” 

I don't know how Simon tolerates me with some of the stupid shit I say but he does. And to this day he still loves me. Hearing confirmation from Simon, I started rubbing the oil more onto his back and dug my fingers into his back harshly but gently at the same time. Simon groaned in pain every time I moved my fingers and I felt bad but I know it's needed and he will feel better once I get done. My fingers were absolutely slick with the massage oil as I was pressing and moving my fingers into the middle upper part of his back, close to his spine as that's where most of his pain resided. 

“Oh fuck, love.” 

Did..Did he just? What he said immediately went straight to my stomach, my face burning red and warm. I know he did it out of pain and relief from his back, but my God did he have to say it like that? 

“You okay, Simon?” I ask, trying to forget what he said. 

Simon sighed deeply as he leaned back, his head resting in between my legs. He opened his eyes and stared upright at me. 

“I am now.” 

I giggled, moving little strands of his blonde hair out of his face. 

“Did that help any?”

“Yes. Thank you, Sage.” Simon thanked me. 

I leaned down and planted a kiss on Simon's lips. Suddenly feeling his teeth nibbling on my lips. I pulled back to see Simon with a shit eating grin. 

“Maybe later~” I say with a smirk. 

“You tease..” Simon mumbled, raising his head up and facing forward. 

“Now,” I started as I washed the massage oil off of my hands and reached for his shampoo, “tell me how your operation went.” 

I could hear Simon sigh, but he should know me by this point. I always want to know how his missions went, even if he can't tell me much about them. He remained silent as I squirted some of his shampoo into my hand, rubbed my hands together and began lathering the soap into his hair. 

“It was..a mission ‘lright.” Simon mumbled out as I got down to his scalp. 

“How so?” 

Come on Si. 

“Well, we had to rescue some hostages.” Simon started. 

I squirted some more shampoo into my hands due to Simon's thick ass hair. 

“Oh shit, how did that go?” 

Simon was silent once again as I finished washing his hair. I have always wanted to call him Goldie Locks but I'm afraid he would kill me for that. Still going on without saying anything, I rinsed my hands in the bath water. 

“I need to rinse your hair, Si.” I told him. 

Simon scooted forward as I sank down and silently cursed at myself, being forgetful of the fact that I was still wearing jeans as I sat down into the bath. Oh well, you're lucky you're worth it Simon. Simon leaned all the way back till his face was above the water still. He remained in strong eye contact as I rinsed the soap out of his hair. His eyes were a gorgeous brown, I could get lost in them. 

“Done.” I announced and Simon rose up, his back facing me. 

I sat on my knees and grabbed some of his body soap. 

“The mission went good. All of the hostages were saved and unharmed. But..” 

“Hm?” I say as I started to lather his body in soap. 

I could hear him wince a little bit, but not as bad as he did earlier. 

“There..there was a kid.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Youn’ kid. Couldn’t have been older than five. When Johnny and I were trying to calm down the hostages, the kid kept latching to me. Even though I had a skull mask on, the bloody kid wouldn’t let go ‘f me. Even when he got reunited with his mum, the kid wouldn’t let go of me.” Simon explained as I finished bathing his body. 

I felt my heart race a little bit as Simon told me all of that. We never really discussed having kids. The conversation has certainly came up before though and Simon was iffy about them. But the fact that most normal people are terrified of him, rightfully so, but a young kid latched onto Simon during a scary moment in their life warmed my heart. 

“He knew you were a good and kind soul during that scary moment.” I say, rinsing his body off. 

“Yeah,” Simon chuckled, “cause upon my appearance you’d think I would be a good and kind soul.”

“You are to me.” 

Simon sighed deeply, not out of annoyance but more as he was processing what happened. 

“You’re a good man, Simon.” 

I leaned my head onto his shoulder and wrapped my arms around him. Simon held my hands, just embracing into my touch. I kissed his shoulder, as a gentle reminder that I was here for him and always would be. No matter what happens with him or what becomes of the both of us, I would always be here for him. Simon Riley. Simon. Riley. 

“Thank you, love.” 

END

[acapelladitty]

Mad Hatter/Reader - Lessons

Summary - Undertaking another one of Jervis' 'etiquette' lessons proves to be a wicked undertaking indeed. (tw: dom/sub themes, teasing, oral sex, food kink etc)

Fic Masterlist

Link to AO3

Delicately picking up the small silver spoon, you bring it to your lips in a pretend sip as you announce your answer with a shaky confidence.

"Soup."

"Excellent, March Hare." Jervis' lilting voice trails out from his unseen spot behind you. "A soup spoon indeed! From tomato to broth to mock turtle. You're doing well."

Flushing with pride at the willing praise, you sigh and rub your thighs together; agitating the egg-shaped vibe which lay nestled between the walls of your sex. Wearing nothing but a white ruffled collar and a pale blue skirt so scandalously short that it may as well have been a belt, the cool air of Jervis' apartment was as familiar as ever as you remain in your place at his large kitchen table.

Speaking of the man himself, his thin hand appeared from your side, pointing expectantly at another piece of polished silverware. This one was a fork, its shape slightly smaller than the one to its side and your muddled brain struggles to remember what the hell it was for - the hesitation making your heart pick up its pace within your chest.

Rolling your ass against the chair, the movement has the unfortunate side-effect of shifting the vibe and its new position draws a keening moan from your lips.

"Jervis, oh my god-"

"Hush, March Hare!" Jervis scolds and you flinch as the tip of the riding crop which you know is sitting in his other hand arcs around to bounce off your right nipple, instantly sparking a heat-laced pain across your chest. "It's rude to speak over someone trying to give a lesson."

Fighting the urge to raise your hands and brush them across your pebbled and aching nipples, you instead focus on picking up the small china teacup which has long since been filled with tea for you to enjoy as you endured your etiquette lesson. However, the cup had barely touched your lips when your unspoken desires were answered as the reappearance of his hands made you flinch - the cool palms quickly gripping your chest in a rough pinch as Jervis' staggered breathing makes itself known just behind your head.

Delighted, you sigh into the cup as you arch your back ever so slightly, giving him easier access to your aching tits as the stimulation makes your cunt clench even more roughly around the vibe.

Finishing the last few drops of tea, you deposit the teacup back onto its assigned plate noisily as your shaking fingers make the fine china clink together. His small digits now kneading your tits almost thoughtfully, Jervis seems to be waiting for something as his mint-laden breath washes past your left ear.

Realising you were missing something, a gasp of delirious pleasure escapes you as his fingers pinch your nipples playfully - pulling at the sensitive buds as he tuts disapprovingly into your neck.

"A finished cup, my sweet rabbit. And no cry for a place change? Clean cup, clean cup. So easily forgotten."

Opening your mouth to say the words, his hand is quick to clamp around your lips and you can taste a subtle and sweet, almost sugary substance on his fingers.

"What a sad tea party." He continues to scold, his free hand teasing down your stomach, tracing every fleshy inch with reverence. "With manners and etiquette thrown to the crocodiles."

His finger drops to the seat, curling back on itself as he splits your slit and you widen your legs to allow him free access. A clear goal in mind, your body starts like it were shocked as the soft pad of his finger rubs a delicate circle around your engorged, neglected clit.

"Jervis."

"Mmm, my rabbit?"

"Don't stop." You breathe out shakily, the tightening band of arousal making your legs tremble slightly as your toes curl towards the floor.

"Please- please don't sto-"

The plea is cut short by his fingers as his free hand presses a thin sliver of cake to your lips - the sugary vanilla taste catching you by surprise as you obediently open your mouth to swallow it.

He enjoyed this.

Feeding and watering you.

The spark which alit in his eyes as he provided for you was as endearing as it was erotic - food play long having since established itself in your games as sweet treats and edibles were shared between you.

Unfortunately, his movements caught you off guard and a small dollop of light blue buttercream slipped free of your bottom lip to drop to the lowest ruffle of your white, embroidered collar.

A theatrical gasp rings in your ear and you whine as his wicked fingers scuttle away from your aching cunt. Any protest dies however as a flash of silver just at the corner of your eye makes you still and you feel the faintest edge of his pocketknife trailing across the sensitive juncture where your collarbone meets the shoulder.

"Messy rabbit." Jervis mutters, slipping the knife up to press against the white ruffled collar which he had gently looped around your neck at the beginning of your lesson. "No point wasting a lovely outfit on such a messy rabbit."

The ruffled collar falls free into a crumpled heap in your lap, but it's swiftly removed as Jervis snatches it up with his fingers and deposits it in the pockets of his slacks.

"Hold out your hand."

More than a little petulantly, you hold your palm out and he's quick to move as he swaps the knife for the riding crop which remains tucked under his armpit. Striking down harshly, the cool leather slices across your palm in a bolt of heat and you wince at the discomfort as he stands to move before you.

"Maybe my lessons are wasted?" Jervis continues, his thin hands pressing down on your exposed thighs as his blue eyes pierced your own. "Trying to turn my March Hare into a proper lady might be one of the six impossible things I have to imagine before breakfast?"

You glance up at him, blinking your eyes coquettishly as you beg forgiveness with only a look.

"Touch me." He continues in a rough demand, accented voice slightly roughened by his clear arousal as he stands fully. The darkened slacks do little to hide how hard he is, the fabric bulging over the jut of his clothed cock, and you run your palm across it gently, enjoying just how aroused he is by his little game with you.

Looping your hands within his belt, you quickly loosen the leather and allow it to hand free. His shortened height makes the task much easier and you smile at the slight inhale he makes when your hands unzip his fly and free his straining cock from its confines. Within your cunt, the vibe pressing against your walls makes it difficult to concentrate as you clench around it desperately, chasing the release which was slowly approaching.

"My Hatter," you purr as you wrap a hand around his length, fingers brushing the blonde curl of pubes which decorate the base, "and my sweet, kindly teacher. Maybe you deserve a reward for helping me out with all these hard lessons."

Stroking along his cock, you groan sharply as the vibe within you rockets up another level and the sudden onslaught of vibration is enough to quickly tip you over the edge that has threatened you for so long. Hand dropping to curl around the edge of the wooden chair, you grind your cunt against the wood as your release forces a guttural moan from your lips - every nerve in your body firing off as your teeth bite down on your lower lip hard enough that you taste copper through the pleasurable aftershocks.

The vibrations don't stop but they do back off slightly, reducing to a pleasant hum which makes you twitch in place as your release pools across your cunt and thighs - making a sordid mess of the chair itself.

"Now, now, March Hare! Distractions aren't appreciated when hard work is required." Jervis taunts but his expression is satisfied and oddly predatory as he watches you suffer through your pleasures.

"Focus."

And with that, he jerked his hips forward with clear intent, targeting his cock upwards towards your mouth. Giving a cheshire grin, you drop your head slightly to make up the space and take him within your mouth; your hand swiftly reappearing to wrap around his velvety length as he demands his payment.

He tastes as familiar as ever, the salt of his pre-cum cutting through the sugariness of the cake he had forced in there earlier and you moan around his cockhead - enjoying the way that the vibrations from your moan make his eyes widened and his mouth go slack.

He's as vocal as ever as his lips spill free a mixture of muffled grunts and sweet whispers - your name mixing with soft praises as you bob your head along his length, matching the movement by twisting your wrist with every stroke.

It doesn't take him long; the eroticism of your 'lessons' and his love of your mouth making him come more quickly than he may have liked and his hands press gently at the sides of your head to keep your lips around the tip of his cock as his release floods your mouth.

Swallowing down what he has to offer, you drink in his whimpering groans with equal enthusiasm as you focus on pleasing him. As gentlemanly as ever, he pulls free of your mouth quickly and you catch your breath as he tucks his wilting cock away in his slacks.

In a flash, he's dropping to his haunches before you and his mouth is on your own - tasting himself as much as you as his tongue demands entry. It's a playful kiss, part thanks and part apology as his thumb rubs gently along the developing welt on your palm from his earlier punishment.

"My Match Hare." He mutters, whispering the words into your mouth.

Matching his energy, your hands slip up his shoulders to tug gently at the blonde hairs which sit at the nape of his neck.

"My Hatter."

[amuseoffyre]

In The Soup

From my first watch, I couldn't help notice the number of reference to soup and broth all the way through the first three episodes and I've been - to be thematic about it - simmering said thoughts overnight and now have put them in order.

'Susan's' soup kiosk

"this broth…may be the best thing I've ever had"

noodle soup on arrival on the ship

the underworld boil-up

"we could make soup"

There is something very significant about the fact that Zheng's chosen cover in the Republic of Pirates is as the owner of a modest little soup kiosk. Jackie even refers to her as the "soup bitch".

It's a sign of how good Zheng is as hiding in plain sight because soup is a universal staple in almost every country in the world. No one questions the presence of a soup stand, because who wouldn't want a nice bowl of soup?

There's something about soup that is seen as a universal basic and comforting dish. There are dozens of proverbs about soup being like home or something to bring someone when they're ill. It's a quiet symbol of safety and comfort and home and Zheng absolutely uses this.

And she doesn't just keep it for the land ruse. More warm and delicious soup is served up on the ship: Stede and his lot get it as a meal and then when they bring the remains of Ed's crew over from the Revenge, they're wrapped in blankets and plied with soup too.

The thing is that we've seen how Zheng operates when she subdues Bartholemew. She doesn't even need to use threats against him. Champers and a tasty meal and a sympathetic ear and she gets what she wants. Even Stede falls for it, right up until the moment she points out that the other alternative was "or death". This is the blade they are all now living under.

Do not trust the comfort of the soup. The soup is a trap and an illusion.

This is even more significant in Ed's scenes with Hornighost. The soup he's making there is reminiscent of Māori boil-up and given that he's a manifestation of Ed's own brain, this once again gives the illusion of comfort and home as well the adage as soup being best for a recuperating invalid.

Only coming from Hornigold, that comfort and warmth becomes a horror. "It's poisoned!" Ed says as soon as he realises who's holding the spoon. He sees something deadly and a trap. He knows this isn't what it seems.

Being fed by a man who has past history of killing people with the things he fed them and who threatened to feed Ed his own skin makes that soup a very real and tangible threat.

Their next conversation on the beach is very telling. "You've got to move on or you blow your brains out… or we could make some soup." And Ed chooses soup. He chooses a warm and good food. He chooses something that is two of his reasons to keep living: warmth and good food. The fact he gives voice to good food and warmth being two of the things he values most, the repetitive appearance of soup and mention of gravy in this purgatory is Ed's subconscious grasping for what he really wants and needs, but never quite getting it.

Only once again, the soup is a subterfuge, because what's happening can't be ignored. No matter how safe or homey or domestic it looks, Hornighost keeps on slipping in the knives and all of Ed's worst thoughts and impulses keep coming to the surface. He wants the warmth and the comfort that soup symbolises, but the soup is a lie. He can't get that. Not here. Not now.

And last of all, the classic old idiom, when things have gone wrong and you find yourself in trouble: you're in the soup. They have double-crossed one of the most powerful pirates they have ever encountered, broken her ship, stolen her crush and are on the run from the English. They are most definitely in the soup.

[rpg-elf-girl]

I have a lot of thoughts right now about the latest episode (14)

Here's your warning to watch the episode before reading the post:

Okay okay okay

So I went back and watched the sequence of the whole Ace body discovery to try and see if there's anything there after the whole tape debacle this episode.

Here's a little recap of what happened for reference (episode 6 ~ timestamp: 18:36-21:55) :

-Teruko and Eden go to the workout room and see Nico over Ace, They run off

The tape is clearly by Aces feet here and remains there for some time

-The girls have a talk about the situation, Eden freaking out, and Teruko suspects Nico

-Teruko starts investigating, & Eden says she needs to process what just happened, Teruko tells her to sit down and not to touch stuff

-Teruko does her investigation she points out the tape here

-Eden comes over and offers to help after a little bit of this

-Teruko starts to investigate Aces body

-Ace gets up screaming and knocks Eden down

(it's about here the tape dissappeard)

-Eden gets up, surprisee Ace is alive

-after some more screaming Ace bolts out of the room and after Nico

-MonoTV promptly kicks everyone out

Okay, so I have some thoughts about all this. Character and story wise I have a hard time believing Eden did this but I don't think it's possible for Ace to have stolen the tape or mimicked the crime.

I can get behind him killing motive wise, but not with the method presented here.

The mans been scared to death since the start, got even more paranoid after the first case, literally everyone shits on him, he overheard Teruko saying he'd probably die, theres Veronikas whole disection of him in the cafeteria fight scene, and now he's nearly been murdered. So him getting paranoid and desperate isn't too far off. Also, him having nothing to do with Arei would be a good cover for him, so I don'treally count that as a defense of him.

That being said according to Nico, he woke up mid murder and fell unconscious again. How much of the method could Ace have possibly seen? Also, something that strikes me as odd is something in this image:

Ace's hands are covered in blood, so even if he theoretically grabbed the tape, wouldn't there also be blood on it? How would he hide it when using it for Arei's Murder?

Also the minute he woke up he was the center of attention, so I highly doubt he would even have time to properly hide the tape from both Teruko and Eden, or that he'd even be thinking of that the second he wakes up from nearly dying.

So because of all that, I don't think it's possible for him to be the killer here.

Opportunity wise, Eden has the most chance at staying undetected, seeing as she was on the floor around when the tape disappeared. She also had the opportunity when she was resting to observe the crime scene so she could more easily figure out and mimic the murder method.

That being said, Eden as a killer confuses me so freaking much, I feel there has to be some curveball here????? Like she'd have to have a pretty clear head directly after seeing a whole ass body so?????

I get Arei said she's likely not as innocent as she appears, but this feels like a bit much. Unless she's being blackmailed leading to some traitor reveal? It's really hard to say.

Anyway, that's my two cents here.

The two people I thought would least likely be the killer are the two main suspects, and now my brain is soup.

[blackbat05]

Title: Christmas Came Early

Sincaraz, Fedal

A/N: Credits to @schumiatspa I hope you don’t mind but I saw your post about Fedal’s LV shoot and I was simply inspired to write a quick one😬 Other tags that I saw: @jannlitos @insilanar @cissi-sh01 (shoot I forgot other accounts) - I hope y’all don’t mind me tagging please tell me if u do mind I’ll take it down.

“Please?”

“No.”

“Pretty please?”

“No.”

Roger chuckles as he watches the scene of Rafa moving behind the counter of their rented ski lodge with Carlos pleading as he trailed behind like a lost puppy.

“I’m going to make a fool of myself.” Shoulders slumped, Carlos surprisingly inches towards the door to take a peek outside the snow covered porch. “What am I supposed to say?”

“Uh… how about just asking him for a ski lesson?” Roger suggests. It takes him great effort to not burst into laughter at the sight of the young man about to enter the phase of a mental breakdown.

“Carlitos,” Rafa pipes up as he exits the counter with two glasses of wine, one in each hand. “Remember what we discussed about?”

Roger lifts a brow. What did they discuss about?

Carlos gives a sigh.

“If I want it, I have to work for it. Take risks.” Carlos recited as if it came straight out from a book.

“That’s right.” Rafa affirms. He places both glasses on the coffee table and makes a shooing gesture. “Now go. I have to watch this Home Alone movie that Roger wants to show me. He says it’s a must watch for Christmas.”

“It is. It’s a classic.” Roger sees a tuft of ginger hair whizzing past their lodge. “Rafa’s right. You should seize the moment.”

***

“You can do this. You can do this.” Carlos mumbles under his breath. Decked in ski gear, Carlos was determined to catch the attention of the ski instructor that was at the beginner’s slope yesterday.

Building up his confidence, Carlos takes a step into the snow and-

“Watch out!”

A hand reaches out to grab Carlos by the wrist, pulling him inwards and away from the hurtling skier who zoomed past the pair, leaving them covered in specks of snow.

“Are you alright?”

Carlos’ brain momentarily freezes. He recognizes that voice from a mile away.

Jannik glances at him, looking absolutely gorgeous in that red ski gear. “Are you injured anywhere?”

“Uh… no. I’m okay. Thanks.” Carlos barely manages to string his words together. Remember what Rafa said.

“You look good!”

Jannik cocks his head slightly at the sudden confession, curls bouncing against his forehead. Meanwhile, Carlos wished that the snow would swallow him whole and preserve him until the next century.

“I mean you look great on the slope! No- what I meant was would you like to ski sometime?”

Great. Real smooth Carlos.

Jannik smiles at the man in front of him trying to gather his bearings for this exact moment. He’s happy- ecstatic even. But he forces himself to remain calm so that poor Carlos wouldn’t be even more stressed than he already is.

“I would love to. In fact I’m actually free now and I have my break until two. Would you like to get lunch? The tomato soup is excellent with basil bread.”

It’s adorable honestly, when Carlos realizes he had gained more than he had bargained for.

“Shall we?” Jannik suggests.

“Lead the way.”

***

“You think Carlos is okay?” Roger asks as he takes a sip of the wine while Home Alone plays in the background.

“He’ll be fine.”

“You sound very sure.” Roger grabs the last biscuit, taking the empty plate to the sink.

“He’s our son. Of course he’ll be fine.” Rafa doesn’t bat an eyelid as he watches the intruders being outsmarted once again. “By the way, this movie is good. Do you have any other movies to recommend? Roger? Rogi?” Rafa repeats. He frowns when there is no response.

Rafa pauses the movie to find Roger staring into the ski slopes. “What are you doing?”

“Watching our son.”

“Our son?” Rafa squeezes beside Roger to see Carlos skillfully making his way down the slope with a familiar ginger at his side.

“Before you say anything. You were right.” Roger raises his hand in defeat, preparing to retreat back to the sofa.

“Wait. What? I couldn’t hear you properly.” Rafa teases, hot on his heels.

“I said YOU WERE RIGHT.”

[frango-maconheiro]

i'm rather indecise on how to write about this, also i'm with another migraine rn, it's very annoying. I hope you enjoy my thought process.

Sooo, basically, when i was making this art, i was trying to convey how annoyed i was at the fact i had a migraine.

The thing is,, in the middle process of the background, it quite reminded me of those silly horror backgrounds in horror stuff and weirdcore? idk, maybe nightmarecore or something, and it kind of made me stop and stare for a second, like, huh, it kind of reminded me of zombie matt.

so i was like, daamn, what if Matt had that same thing in the beach episode, but instead of vampire, it's with zombie, yk,,, like, even after what happened, he still had remains of the zombie self, especially with how he became some kind of lich. (This is the easiest example i could find to resume it)

Wouldn't it be cool if he still had some sort of influence on the undead if he tried hard enough??

I think he'd probably feel iffy with his left arm despite it being perfectly in place again and with no traces of the past, like, the skin there hadn't decayed the same way, so despite being just fine, he almost feels the need to scratch it off for the first post months.

And idk, i think the effects of all of that apocalypse would maybe develop cannibalistic thoughts for some time, like, he ate brains before as a zombie, but now he's back as a human, and it's kind of fucked up so tries to avoid thinking of it, the kind of shit that had him sweating when too close to one of his friends.

scenes ended before Edd and Tom's infection, so Matt is the only one acting all weird because he was the only zombie technically, the only one who probably thought about it now and then of a well cooked arm, a soup of brains.. or some grilled intestines.... yummy, he thought before snapping out of it and getting a sandwich for himself.

i still wanna continue babbling, but like, this post is too long already, the longest in this blog fr. Hope whoever had patience to read this nonsense to have liked it! shksgskjpkk

[b7ngt4n]

The Last Remaining | Part 06

-> South Korea was left abandoned after a 'zombie' virus sweeps the nation. Left to save themselves, Y/N and a group of seven men, who she's found safety in, rely on each other to stay alive as they travel to the south side of the country on the hunt for a rumoured 'z-free' haven. But nothing is ever easy. Especially when they find it's not only just zombies they need to watch their backs for.

-> A female reader x BTS zombie apocalypse AU

-> Genre: Post-apocalyptic, action

-> Warnings for Part 6: swearing, violence

-> Word count: 3,208 words

-> Interactions are greatly appreciated xoxo 💖

Part 06: Sensei Jimin🧟

“Are you alright? Did those bastards hurt you? I swear to God if they touched you in any way—”

Jungkook bombarded you with questions as soon as you all sat down to rest at a random intersection, after running at least two blocks away without a break. You were busy trying to catch your breath while Jungkook looked like he barely broke a sweat. You were still in shock and overwhelmed at what you’ve just witnessed. A disturbing doctor, nearly being tricked into eating zombies, cannibalism, the list can go on.

Just seeing Jungkook and being with him healed your soul. You were thankful to be alive and you were thankful he was alive too. So much so you had pulled him into a hug without even thinking about it.

It was one way to immediately shut him up. He stood paralysed, unsure how to breathe, think, or act. When the gears in his brain started to work again, you felt his strong arms wrapped around your waist bringing you closer to his warm body. Jungkook could literally feel your racing heartbeat through your back. And you could feel his through his chest. He was all you needed to remind you life was worth the little things.

“Thank you Kook,” you mumbled into his chest. Hearing you shorten his name like that had him feeling butterflies in his stomach. Only his close friends occasionally called him ‘Kook’, but it hit different coming out of your mouth. He wanted to hear you call him that ten more times. “Thank you for coming back and saving us. Saving me.”

He leaned his chin on your head, grateful you were safe in his arms, “always.”

“Is everyone okay? Nobody ate the soup, right?” Namjoon asked everyone, hands on his knees as he recharged his physical battery.

You and Jungkook pulled away from each other to join the rest. Everyone replied an exhausted ‘no’ between breaths to Namjoon’s question. You sat down next to Yoongi, checking up on him and thanking him for his rescue mission efforts. Jungkook went to go sit down next to Jin, who had some teasing tricks up his sleeve.

“Jungkook definitely had a spoonful or two. Did anyone see how fast he picked up that bowl?” Jin teased him, playfully nudging him as Jungkook hit him on the shoulder in retaliation. Hoseok and Taehyung bursted out laughing.

“Our Jungkook-ie’s a true gentleman now,” Jimin joined in on the teasing on his brother as the four of them all laughed together. Jungkook rubbed at the back of his neck in embarrassment. His round cheeks turned a faint rosy pink colour as he met your gaze. You were smiling at him, softly laughing along with the cheeky men. Seeing your smile made him forget he was ever self-conscious.

“Jokes aside, my arm feels like it's going to fall off,” Yoongi groaned, sliding off a chunky army backpack from around his shoulder and ditching it on the ground. He unzipped it to reveal handguns, ammunition, walkie-talkies, and body gear packed inside, "take your pick lady and gentlemen."

The boys were in awe of the different type of gems the duo managed to get their hands on. While they crowded around Yoongi, Namjoon gently pulled you to the side.

"I'm sorry Y/N," he apologised causing a puzzled frown on your face, but before you could ask any questions he continued, "you were right to be suspicious about those missing zombie parts. And I feel very ashamed I shut you down like that. I feel like if I listened to you, maybe we could've avoided that entire thing," he sighed heavily, looking down while burying his head in his hands.

You shook your head in disagreement, "there was no way we could've known any of that was going to happen. So please don't blame yourself," you tried to comfort him, but it did very little. He was still disappointed in himself and remained quiet, lost in deep rumination. That's when you had a thought.

"Who's idea was code purple?" you whispered to him softly after a moment of silence.

He glanced up at you, thinking for a second before answering, "it was mine."

"What's the reasoning behind it?" you asked. Namjoon didn't understand the sudden interrogation behind code purple but he answered your question regardless.

"I made it up in case we ever got split up and had to try find each other again. We decided if that were to ever happen, we just had to trust each other and that it'd all work out somehow and we'd all meet again," he explained to you nonchalantly. It was a very intellectual idea. You admired his sense of foresight.

"I think code purple is what saved us," you told him, giving him a small smile. He stared at you blankly like he didn't get your point, "you saved us Namjoon,” you clarified, emphasising on the 'you,' making sure your message got into his head.

"If you hadn't have set up that system, how could Yoongi and Jungkook have understood the situation? How could they have found us? With breadcrumbs?" you joked sarcastically, making him chuckle, a positive sign your pep talk was getting somewhere, "you make smart moves Namjoon. I understand why they look up to you so much," you referred to 'they' as in the boys. Briefly glancing at them, the younger ones were playing with handguns like they were in an action movie only to get scolded by the older ones.

"Don't let someone who deceived you doubt yourself and your abilities," you patted his shoulder just as Jungkook called you over, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

“Is he alright?” he whispered lowly into your ear as he kept an anxious eye on his brother.

“He’s fine,” you assured him, reaching out to rub his hand gently, “just needed a little motivation that’s all.”

And as if on cue, Namjoon stepped in to calm an overly excited Taehyung and Jimin from mishandling a gun before he addressed everyone, “it’s time we get the fuck out of here.”

According to a tiny tourist paper map Yoongi found back at the police station, the next city to pass through was Osan. There was no way of making it there before nightfall. And there was no way any one of you wanted to stay another night in Suwon.

Once you all had journeyed as far as the sunlight allowed you to, Namjoon declared to spend the night at an old camping grounds close by. The boys found their confidence levels boosting with every kill they made with their new equipment. It was a bigger upgrade from their last weapons — a rusty axe and pepper spray. You, on the other hand, were still incapable of properly killing a zombie.

The only thing you felt confident using was a taser. It was simple for a simple girl like you. Just aim and tase. But that wouldn’t be very effective if you were ever swarmed. Plus the batteries could run out at any time, making it a very unreliable source.

The only other things you’ve used in the apocalypse have been a baseball bat and your pocket knife — sort of. You used your baseball bat to push away zombies to create enough distance for you to run away rather than kill them. And the only time you used your knife was to threaten Jungkook and Jimin the first time you guys met. Which according to Jungkook didn’t scare them at all. Only the boys have been killing zombies. You, so far, have been a bit useless.

You weren’t proud of it. You were actually embarrassed about it. So when the boys got busy building a fire and trying to catch fish from the nearby lake, you took it upon yourself to get some training in.

About a minute away, you found a good empty space of ground next to the lake to practice your shooting. You weren’t very familiar with guns. You assumed the one you had taken was a handgun, considering it was one of the smaller ones that fit nicely in your hand.

“You got this Y/N, you know what you’re doing” you motivated yourself, trying to convince yourself you had it under control. You held the gun in both your hands, arms fully extended as you aimed at a tree trunk in front of you.

Just as you were trying to adjust to the feel of it and sussing out your aim, you heard a low groan that did not sound so human. Appearing from behind a tree trunk was a thin and very rough looking zombie. Its clothes had been ripped and its blue-ish skin was covered in dirt, perfectly camouflaging into the brown nature. It looked like it’s been lurking in the woods for a while based off the state it was in.

It was still a good distance from you, not in much of a rush to get to you. It gave you enough time to aim at it, making it your very first target. Closing one eye for the most accurate aim, once you were satisfied you could hit him you pulled the trigger. But to your surprise, nothing came out.

You frowned, pulling it again but nothing came out again. And the zombie only came closer, closing the gap between you two.

“Shit! Why won’t it shoot!” you yelled, your frustration getting to you as you prepare to run before it’s too late.

“Turn off the manual safety,” you heard a familiar voice call from behind you, glancing back to find Jimin coming out from the bushes. Before you could yell what safety he quickly specified, “turn down the lever on the left side!”

You didn’t notice it before, the tiny lever on the side of the gun. The zombie was only an arms length away from you as you immediately pulled the trigger without properly aiming. Luckily, the bullet shot right into the zombies chest, killing it for the second time.

“Shit,” you breathed out, panting from the adrenaline pumping through your veins. Jimin appeared at your side, shaking his head in disapproval as he slipped the gun out your hands.

“Do I have to start keeping an eye on you missy?” he raised a brow while tucking the gun away in his pants, but not before turning on the manual safety.

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms as he chuckled at your clumsiness, “I was just getting some training in, no big deal.”

Jimin gave you that ‘are-you-serious?’ look as he placed his hands on his hips, “no big deal but you nearly got yourself killed? Yeah I think we will leave the gun training for later,” he responded sassily making you giggle.

He picked up two long sturdy branches lying on the floor, handing one to you while he kept the other.

“Do you know how to sword fight?”

Of course you didn't know how to sword fight. Just another thing to add to the list of talents you don't have.

Jimin shared he learned kendo for about 8 years when he was younger. He explained to you that it was a form of Japanese martial arts with bamboo swords. It taught him all the basics of sword fighting. He enjoyed the thrill of it, fueling his innocent little dreams of wanting to become a pirate.

As he grew older, so did his love and hobby for sword-fighting. When he became old and mature enough he began to learn kenjutsu and iaido, which were more comprehensive and traditional forms of japanese sword-fighting.

"So you're like a samurai?" you joked as he adjusted your awkward-not-very-samurai-like stance, laughing at your comment.

"I guess so?" he answered, not so sure if he'd ever consider himself to be. But now that he was actually using his sword-fighting skills in the real world, especially to kill, he figured he might actually just qualify.

You spent nearly two hours learning the proper stance, how to hold your 'sword', as well as basic attack and defense techniques. Once you managed to roughly memorise those skills, Jimin decided to put your knowledge to the test by making you spar with him. That's when the sweet and kind Jimin you knew transformed into the merciless sensei you never knew was hiding inside him.

He did not go easy on you. He was very strict, quick to point out when you weren't using the proper stance, or if you weren't hitting him properly, or even if you were being too slow. Nor did he allow you many breaks. He told you it was for your own good, and although you did agree with him, part of you just wanted to collapse on the ground and do nothing for an hour.

By the time Jungkook came to interrupt your training session to inform you both dinner had been cooked, the sun had already set. There was a cool spring breeze in the air that gave you goosebumps, but that didn't bother Jimin's teaching mode. The first thing Jungkook noticed about you was how exhausted you were. But from the brief moment he saw you sparring he could tell you've learned a thing or two.

You were impressed to find a well-lit campfire and grilled fish awaiting you. The boys were huddled around the campfire, sharing bowls they stole from the grounds keeper's cabin between each other. Yoongi stood up, handing you a bowl of grilled fish and what appeared to be vegetable soup.

"Hope it's not too early to be having soup," he laughed with a mouthful of food lodged in his mouth, comfortingly patting your shoulder.

The rest of the night was followed by conversations, laughter, and stories from what life was like before the apocalypse as you all sat around the fireplace. In that brief moment it felt like there no apocalypse to begin with. You actually felt a sense of normality after the longest time of the most bizarre things ever known to man happening to you. It just felt like you were with a group of friends who spontaneously decided to go camping one day. You felt like you've known the boys forever. In a way their presence soothed you. To hear Hoseok's contagious laughter, to listen to Jimin's expressive story-telling, to eat Jin's well-cooked dinner despite the circumstances, and to feel protected by Jungkook. The world could end but as long as you're surrounded by your new friends, you felt like nothing could hurt you.

As the night deepened and the boys dozed off one by one, you on the other hand were wide awake. You had never struggled to fall asleep this much before. Even after twisting and turning your entire body. Maybe it was the uncomfortable hard ground or the chilly breeze against your skin. But you just could not fall asleep.

The only other person who was awake was Jin. He was first in line to stay up and keep watch. You offered to take over his job for him and let him have a sleep. He turned down your offer, keeping you company as you both talked for a bit. Until his eyes became redder and drier, he knew he was losing the battle between him and his self conscious begging him to sleep.

You were lucky the moon was full and shining above you, blessing you with its moonlight. The fire had to be put out before everyone slept to prevent attracting attention from zombies. You used to be terrified of the dark. Yet here you were. Sitting in the dark, outside, in silence, with just yourself. Strangely, it wasn't as scary as you previously believed. Matter of fact, it was somewhat relaxing.

Where you had set up camp was right next to the lake. You left your spot from next to Jungkook and went to sit on the bank, next to the water. The lake was gorgeous under the moonlight, taking your breath away. It reflected the off-white moon, the clusters of stars in the sky, and the silhouette of forest trees on the horizon. You could hear the calming sounds of water, crickets, and frogs croaking. It sounds gross but having a break from hearing the groan of zombies or something being killed was a nice change.

"You still up?"

Jungkook's voice startled you out of your thoughts. You turned around to find him rubbing his eyes as he yawned and stretched his arms, before making himself comfy next to you.

"Couldn't sleep," you sighed, your gaze lingering on the moonlit landscape in front of you.

"I understand that, you've been through quite a lot," he whispered softly. You felt his hand rest on top of yours, his thumb caressing your skin.

You let silence fill the atmosphere. It was somehow the loudest silence you've ever experienced.

"The last time I fell asleep," you started, glancing at him to find his big brown eyes giving you their fullest attention. Even in the dark under the restricted moonlight, you could still see his sparkling eyes, "I woke up and you weren't there."

Jungkook's relaxed expression immediately melted into concern as he pulled you into him without hesitation, "I'm sorry I left you by yourself."

"It's not your fault Kook," you wiggled out his grip to see his face and look him in the eyes, "it's just the shit world we live in. I can't trust this stupid world and the stupid things they do."

You felt ridiculous tearing up as it was just something of the past, but you felt ten times more embarrassed as you felt the tears roll down your cheeks. You couldn't look him in the eye anymore, glancing down as your face turned an angry red in shame.

Jungkook cupped your hot cheeks, wiping away your tears with the pad of his thumb. You felt a sense of deja vu, thinking back to the first time you met. Except this time, you didn't try cut his hand off.

"You're right to not trust the world," he muttered, gently pulling you closer to rest his lips on your forehead, giving you a light peck, "but you can trust me, okay? I'll always find a way back to you."

You couldn't say or do anything but just quietly cry in his arms as he comforted you. You aren't sure what came over you. Nor did you understand why you were so attached to Jungkook and why he was so attached to you. Why was he so willing to protect you? To take care of you? And always come back to you as he says? And why do you let him? Was it the lack of love in your life that made you crave his? Was it because your self-conscious felt safe enough around him and the rest of the boys that you've developed an unhealthy attachment to them?

You weren't so sure or understood anything in life anymore. The last thing you remembered before finally drifting off to sleep was Jungkook's body snuggled up close to yours as he gently caressed your hair.

Until you jolted up the next morning to Hoseok's frantic voice piercing your eardrums,

"He's gone!"

(a/n: HERE SHE ISSS after a long weeks hiatus she has returned ladies & gentlemen!! i hope u enjoyed this part. honestly this part is lowk a let down after a weeks absence i’m so sorry like there’s no drama or action 🙄🙄 but don’t worry, as u can tell by my cliffhanger 🤭, the nxt part is for sure going to be more eventful!

i love u all thank u so much for reading n loving this series i rlly enjoy writing this series and can’t wait to write out all my ideas i’ve planned for this series 💖 till nxt time, stay sexy kids xoxo😛😛😘😘)

[frownyalfred]

If this too much or too personal please ignore!

But I was just wondering if you had any advice for grieving? (I lost a close family member very recently)

I'm so sorry for your loss, anon. I don't know your exact situation, but I hope your loved one's memory is a blessing to you and your family. I'll leave my thoughts below the break, since I'll discuss death and dying a little.

I am, as many people on here likely know, still grieving the loss of my father. It was sudden and unexpected. It was bloody and somewhat traumatic for our family. Thinking about it still leaves me dazed and unfocused.

Grieving is such a strange process. I've been talking about it with my therapist weekly, and her main takeaway has been that there is no right way to do it -- and that it is far from linear. There are positive moments and regressions. There are funny memories and difficult truths to grapple with. There is anger, confusion, sadness. Despair. So many unanswered questions and moments that hover on the edge of veneration simply because they are the only ones you have left.

How did I grieve? I cried a lot, at first. I took off work and sat shiva with my family. I answered a thousand well-meaning messages and played one singular song on repeat on my phone. I barely slept. I dreamed and dreamed and dreamed. I woke up crying without remembering exactly what I had been dreaming about.

Then, as if in reprieve, my brain let up. I slept somewhat normally again. My body was no longer on the edge of tears at any given moment, nor was I entirely numb. Slowly, I began to think of normal things again; new television shows, updating a chapter, irritation at the banal things like traffic and work.

And anon, I thought to myself, this must be it. I'm no longer "grieving," or at least not in the traditional sense of the word. I was eating, sleeping, going to the gym and work, updating my works and hitting the club again on the weekends.

But I wasn't done. And I'm not sure I ever will be. I wanted to be done, in so many ways. I was mad at my father for dying, for making me grieve, for keeping me in this state where I couldn't be confident in anything I was feeling, any progress I was making. Where I could remain silent and resolute at his burial, but sob like a baby in my apartment when the concert t-shirt he gave me was stained by some soup.

But that's a lot to put on the dead. And sometimes I have to keep reminding myself that -- that he is dead, that there is a gap in my life I keep trying to skip over, like avoiding tonguing at the aching tooth in the back of my mouth. And when I forget, the world is more than glad to remind me, whether through well-meaning neighbors, colleagues, etc etc.

I suppose that's a long way of saying, I think I'm still grieving anon. I'm not sure I'm doing the best at it, active or involuntary as this process seems to be. I have an amazing support network, but so much of this work seems to be solitary, even when someone is sitting right next to you, crying with you.

The Jewish saying "May their memory be a blessing" has been a good focal point for me, I think. It dovetails nicely with the Mandalorian saying "Not gone, merely marching far away." I've thought about both a lot in the last few months, because I'm a huge nerd and also because I don't think the cultures are too dissimilar.

Let your loved one's memory be a blessing in your life, anon. Remember the happy moments, and speak them out loud if you're able. Don't let their name remain sacred. Don't sanctify them, for we are all humans and humans are complicated, but don't leave their life behind you.

Those memories of them, those funny moments and sad days, fun trips and strange conflicts, those are all yours now. No one else has them. And when you and your family are gone, those memories are gone too.

Other small things that have made this whole process easier: Starbucks and DoorDash giftcards (seriously, some days are too hard), letting myself take time off hobbies (gym/writing) without penalizing myself, naming my grief and allowing myself to sit in it (I'm sad today about x, and I want to lie down for a few hours. I'm lying down because I'm feeling sad about x, and I'm allowed to feel that way). Going to the gym and running until the natural endorphins help. Talking with my families about good and complicated moments with my dad. Writing, when I'm able. Reminding myself it's okay to not be very functional, that it's okay to not be perfect and you would never expect someone who is grieving to be so. Talking to a therapist and getting treatment for what I experienced. Accepting the kind words of others, even if they hurt or are unintentionally difficult.

I'm sorry you're going through this anon. I know how you feel, or at least some of what you feel. I hope you have support and loved ones around you who can help shoulder some of this process.

<3 Jay

[the-wiggler]

If I could stay here, under your idle caress

Ellis tries to cook and plan fails successfully? 

word count: 2.2k

“My love?” A tentative voice calls into the dark room, curtains drawn. What little light filters through, Ellis can see the mountains of clothes on the floor, the layer of dust and the empty cups covering the room. On the bed in the corner, a mound under the heavy blanket shifts minutely, and their heart aches. “Oh, my Gem,” They coo, sitting on the side of the bed, slowly peeling back the blanket to reveal a sallow face, tired and weighed down, smooshed against the pillow. Ellis leans over and presses a soft kiss to their cheek, a hollow stare darting to them in vague recognition, “How are you, my dear?” 

They groan, shifting to bury their head in Ellis’s middle, quietly inhaling their scent. Their hand moves instinctively to stroke Gem’s hair, grounding repetitive motions as they sit in silence for a few minutes before Ellis breaks it, “Are you hungry? Think you can stomach some food?” 

They go to shake their head, instinctively wanting to remain in their bed despite their aching back and stiff legs. Then they register the slow acidic burn spread from their core and absently wonders when they last had a proper meal. “Yeah-could gof’r something.” Stringing together words with what little threads of energy they could muster, their voice hoarse from disuse. 

“Ok,” Ellis smiles, one last comforting stroke of their hair before they pull away, “I’ll get you something to eat, you try your best to get out of bed, ok?” They stand and go to pull the blackout curtains open, revealing a second set of thick daytime curtains, and illuminating the room in a soft light. Reaching behind the curtains, they push open the windows, letting the soft breeze and the noises of traffic below waft in. “Take your time, Gem. I’ll be just outside.” They press a gentle kiss on Gem’s forehead before they leave, and Gem misses them already. 

Outside, Ellis wracks their brain thinking what Gem could eat. They remembered the stacks of snack wrappers on the table and an idea flutters into their head, perhaps they could cook something? Sure, their cooking left much to be desired, but Gem had been giving them lessons (though they often ended up making out on the countertops instead). Their cooking “lessons” meant that Ellis could now, under supervision, make scrambled eggs, grilled cheese and pasta. And heat up soup. 

But their Gem deserved a good, warm, fresh meal, and though they had only “helped” Gem out in the kitchen, Ellis was confident they could handle this. They crack open Gem’s laptop, typing in their password (Ellis’s birthday), and pull up the recipe from a bookmark folder called “Cooking for Ellis”.

‘The perfect food for when I’m feeling sick, Oyakodon is a classic comfort food of Japanese home cooking. Simple, delicious, and utterly comforting, this is the kind of one-bowl meal you can cook in less than 30 minutes!’ The chipper description of this Japanese chicken and egg rice bowl had caught Ellis’s eye. Perfect. 

Firstly, the chicken. They rummage through the freezer until they grasped a small container of already-chopped chicken thigh. But it was still frozen, and Ellis didn’t have the time to sit around waiting for it to defrost. 

They sighed, cracking open the frozen block of meat and hacking away at it with a spoon until they had what they figured was a big enough portion for Gem to eat. Then, they slapped that in the microwave, doused it in sake, and let it sit, feeling very proud of themself. Off to a very positive note. 

Next, the onions. They carefully chopped off the ends of the onions, peeling off the crinkly skin and sliding them off to one side of the cutting board. Then they slice the onion in half, feeling the tears prick their eyes and their vision blur. 

A sudden strong gust of wind sends the loose onion skin flying off the counter like leaves in the sky. Ellis curses silently, eyes burning, and rushes to chase after the onion skin now scattered across the kitchen floor. When they finally collected the bits and deposited them into the bin, the tears in their eyes had yet to subside. 

Frustrated, they rub their eyes, forgetting the onion residue still on their hands. As their pain suddenly escalated, they cursed silently, blindly grasping around to find the sink and turn on the tap. Quietly panicking to avoid alerting their partner, Ellis rushes to wash their hands with soap and rinse their eyes, tears running down their face.

Once they had finally cleared the sulfuric acid from their eyes, they found their vision blurred and their nose running. They glance, a bit despondent, at the remaining onion and curse it out quietly. Through tears and sniffles, they finally cut the onion into slices Gem once termed ‘Julienne’. This time, they make sure to thoroughly wash their hands before scrubbing at their face. 

With a renewed sense of enthusiasm, they gaze proudly at the now conquered pile of onions on the chopping board. Despite this minor hiccup, Ellis felt ever optimistic, grabbing a bowl and mixing the liquid seasonings. 

Now, to start the cooking process. Ellis confidently opened the cupboard where Gem kept all their pots and pans. Having lived alone for so long, Gem only had two pans: a larger one for bigger meals when hosting guests, and a smaller one for personal use. Ellis frowned.

The recipe said one small pan should be enough, but…Ellis sent a distrustful look at the accursed mountain of unevenly cut onion pieces and decided to err on the side of caution. They grabbed the larger pan, dumping the onion and seasonings into it. 

The seasoning…barely covered the bottom of the pan, let alone the onions. 

A quick reference back to the recipe…and…yep, the seasonings should cover the onions. They inwardly grumbled at the idea of having yet another thing to wash and grabbed the smaller pan, pouring the sauce into it. Ellis watched as the liquid in the pan rose and rose until it reached the brim of the pan, forming the meniscus. Ok..too little for the big pan but too much for the smaller pan. 

Great. 

They pour the rest of the sauce down the drain, lamenting the wasted food. They move to dump the onions into the sauce, forgetting completely the rule of displacement. As the onions tumbled into the pan, the sauce flooded over the edge, forming a small pool around it. Ellis fights the urge to collapse into a heap on the ground and instead carefully lifts the already full pan up, spilling more sauce. They messily clean up the majority of the mess; the rest could be cleared up after they deliver this absolute guarantee of a good meal to their partner. 

Having lost a decent chunk of motivation (and seasoning) that they started with, Ellis turns on the stove, waiting for the sauce to come to a simmer. placing a lid over the pan and turning their attention to the mountain of dishes in the sink. 

They quietly hummed a song that reminded them of Gem, mind wandering to thoughts of the bright starry eyes of their partner as Ellis served them the perfect Oyakodon. It wasn’t that Ellis was doing this for the thank-you kisses they might receive…but they would be amiss if they said it wasn’t something of a motive. 

So lost in thought was Ellis that they completely forgot about the simmering, bubbling, and now boiling pan of sauce and onions just a few feet from them. It wasn’t until the metallic rattling of the lid against the pan did Ellis snap out of their daydreams and worriedly glanced over. 

The sauce had bubbled out of the pan, adding to the already large puddle. It was currently dripping over the counter down onto the drawers below, no doubt seeping into the cutlery and crockery that Gem kept there. Completely forgetting about the running tap, they grabbed a cloth and went to wipe at the angry mess on the stove, the hot liquid quickly seeping through the cloth and shooting through Ellis’s hands, making them curse loudly. 

The word rang out in the emptiness of the cosy apartment Gem had and they vaguely heard the soft padding of feet approach them before a quiet voice called out. “Ellis? Is- “Yes, my dear,” They quickly interrupt, rushing to intercept their partner at their bedroom door, “Are you feeling well enough to be up? Perhaps you should take a shower, Gem, freshen up.” They clutched their throbbing hand behind their back, chuckling nervously. 

Gem casts a confused look at Ellis. Their eyes dart from the sweat dripping down Ellis’s forehead to the panicked look in their bloodshot eyes and the hand they were not very inconspicuously hiding. They begin taking hesitant steps towards the kitchen despite Ellis’s weak assurances.

“No- don’t gaze upon my shame, please, I’m begging!” They joke weakly as Gem reaches the kitchen, but it was too late. Gem could only stare in silence as Ellis stood behind them, sheepish and awkward morphing into an overwhelming amount of guilt. The last thing Gem needed right now was more things to worry about, to shoulder Ellis’s burdens along with their own. 

“I-I’m sorry, Gem. I know this is the last thing you need; more things to do.” They sigh, “Look, take a shower, and I promise, once you get out, the mess will be gone. I’ll call up your favourite pizza place, you don’t have to worry about a thing.” Ellis tried to redirect their attention away from the mess, hoping to coax Gem away from the mess they had made. 

“Ellis-I-What…what were you trying to cook?” They whisper, a layer of incredulity concealed under genuine curiosity, their eyes fixated on the angrily rattling pan. 

“Well- I was trying to make an Oyakodon, you know, the one you had saved in your laptop?” Their partner nods wordlessly, “But clearly, I seemed to have overestimated my cooking abilities and I…oh. I forgot to make the rice.” They wring their hands together, watching their partner out the corner of their eye, waiting for the outburst. 

After a quiet sigh that seemed to pierce Ellis, Gem moves into the kitchen, slides the pan off the hot surface of the stove and carefully turns the stove off, leaving the liquid to cool. They turn off the running tap before grabbing another, not soaking wet, cloth and carefully lifting the hot pan lid, wincing at the burnt onions and billow of smoke that angrily escapes its confines. They deposit the pan in the sink and grab a bowl, filling it with ice and cold water and gently guiding Ellis’s throbbing hand into it. 

“Gem I- “Rest.” They quietly order, silencing any meek protests on the edge of Ellis’s tongue. They resign to sit at the dining table, hand submerged in the icey water. Silently, they watch Gem move through the kitchen cleaning up the mess, chewing on their lip nervously. 

Gem was always more on the quiet side, opting to save their energy for acts of service that made Ellis want to smother them in kisses. They talked in quiet smiles and averted gazes, a quiet language that Ellis had slowly become a well-learned expert in. But on days where they could barely manage to leave their bed, they resorted to one-word responses, sometimes just a vague nod, even.  

Ellis could tell, in Gem’s tense shoulders, that their disappointment was palpable- tired and exhausted, they still had to clean up after Ellis’s mess. Ellis had meant well, they didn’t doubt that Gem understood that, that they had only intended to provide a warm meal that Gem loved, but intentions meant little when the outcome directly contradicted it. 

“I really am sorry, my Gem. I…never intended to make more work for you.” They sigh, watching their partner move through the kitchen as they were stuck in the chair. They sighed, “But I did. Regardless of my intention, I…I made a right mess of things, and I can’t express my apologies enough.” They suddenly felt silly for ever thinking they could somehow whip up a meal when they could barely scramble an egg without burning something (or someone). 

A rub on Ellis’s cheek drags them out of their inner criticisms. A hand cupped their cheek gently, and they gazed up from where they were seated to stare at Gem’s eyes. In turn, Ellis turns their head to lay a gentle kiss on the palm of Gem’s hand. 

“You did,” They state matter-of-factly, quiet voice barely reaching Ellis’s ears. “But it’s not all bad. You managed to get me out of bed, didn’t you?” 

Ellis blinks slowly, then laughs, surprised. “I…hadn’t even noticed. I suppose it is a silver lining in all of this.” They place an unburnt hand over Gem’s waist, pulling them in and resting their head on their partner's stomach. “You really are too kind to me, my Gem.” 

“Nonsense.”