#clod on the run

[claudefrollosreddiamondring]

I never thought i’d see the Word “Clod” being used outside from Steven Universe

Fucking knew it Peridot turned into a Cookie.

[most-fuckable-ff14-lady]

ROUND 1 MOST FUCKABLE FFXIV LADY

[dreamingmantis]

I’m grateful for the cursed twitter post on the Elemental account solely so I can say “It’s Clodin’ time.”

[perereiii]

Sick with who knows what but look who came in the mail today!

[sorcererofsolitude]

Enid: Okay, Wednesday. Repeat after me. "I will not..."

Wednesday: I will not...

Enid: "...dress up as Santa Claus..."

Wednesday: ...dress up as Santa Claus...

Enid: "...to scare little kids."

Wednesday: ...to scare little kids.

Enid, looking satisfied: Good!

Wednesday: I will dress up as Krampus and terrorize naughty children into better behavior next year.

Enid: NO! WEDNESDAY, BAD!!!

Wednesday, shrugging: Too late. I've already enlisted compatriots to dress up as Icelandic Yule Lads and assist.

Yoko, running up beside them: I'M GONNA BE 'DOORWAY SNIFFER'! DIVINA’S GOING TO BE SHEEP-COTE CLOD!

Enid: How did you get Divina to agree to that??

Yoko, looking proud of herself: Me and Kent teamed up to talk her into it.

Enid, sighing: Of course you did.

Wednesday, grinning darkly: Jericho will finally be rid of juvenile crime. Just you wait.

Enid: Wens, you're not Batman, you're a menace to society.

Yoko: Same thing.

AO3: SorcererOfSolitude

[crystlizabeth]

Her ༉‧₊˚.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Stallion!Wife!reader

Summery: nobody expected Simon to walk into the ball with his women. His women who stood at 6’4 next to him in her red bottom’s.

Warnings: slight suggestive themes, cursing, reader is blackcoded! As always not proofread!!

.˚₊‧ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ‧₊˚.

Simon had mentioned and even talked about his wife multiple times, shit the team has even seen pictures of her. Yet when Johnny and Kyle watch him walk into the hall with her damn. Her arm linked with his as she stood next to him standing the same height as him, yes she had heels but danm was all those two boys could think their jaws dropped. And like I’m the pictures she was pretty, gorgeous to be expected, her confidence radiated off her. The black silky dress she wore falling down to her feet but stood off the floor a slit on the left side, her hair long falling down to her butt. Yes her hair she bought it that lace was secured and transparent shit she looked good and she knew it. And Simon on her arm shit.. nobody could touch her or her man.

“Close y’er mouth.” Price elbowed Kyle in the side.

Kyle looked over at his captain then back at the couple who made their way over. Up close Kyle would be lying if he said he wasn’t just a bit intimidated, she stood tall and next to his lieutenant yeah he might piss himself.

The boys turned their attention towards Simon and his wife her arm still intertwined with his her hand holding Simons bicep. Her nails freshly manicured and with the looks of it Simon didn’t mind spending his cash on her just from the look of her rings, engagement and wedding. Johnnys eyes met hers first after being introduced,

“I’m John, but LT calls me-“

“Johnny,” she chuckled a bit her lips curling into a toothy smile, her voice was smooth and on the deeper side.

Johnny smiled a bit wider not minding the look from his Lieutenant. “Yeah, so he talks ‘bout me yeah?”

She nodded moved her hair over her shoulder “mmhm he dose, I heard a lot about you.” She spoke taking Johnnys hand shaking it.

He watched as Simons hands snaked around your waist, his eyes looking back up to his LT a cocky smirk on his face only for Simons to roll his eyes.

Price and Kyle introduced themselves a bit of conversation continued before Johnny couldn’t take it and more and finally ask her “How Tall are you?”

“Bro.” Kyle groaned becauseto him you cant just ask that.

She smiled her eyebrow raising “You look like you’ve been wanting to ask me.”

Johnny nodded “I have but I gotta be polite ya know.”

“I’m 5’11- 6’0 foot on a good day.” She answered leaning into Simon.

“No f’ckin way.”

She nodded, “Alright McTavish you can stop slobbering all over my wife yeah?” Simon spoke his hold on her hip tightening.

She watched as the two men began to bicker nothing foul but just fun. As the night went on people started to leave and eventually Simon said his goodbyes as did she.

Walking out the clod air hit her arms so she cuddled up to Simon as they walked “Told you they like ya.” He said.

“I wasn’t to worried I’m good with people, did you see their faces when I walked in with you. Did you not tell them.” She asked.

He shook his head opening the passenger door of his truck, “Didn’t feel the need to.” He said his hands falling on her waist. His head tilting and he looked at her his eyes going down them back up he looked like he could devour her right there.

“You lookin at me like that but we both know danm well there ain’t enough room in that back seat for us.” She teased pulling on his belt.

“I’ll make room trust me.” He whispered pressing his body against hers her boobs spilling over the top of her dress.

“Mmhm you said that last time and I ended up with bruises.” She hummed her hands running up and down his arms.

Simon smirked, “one day.”

“Fo shore.” She laughed, leaning forward her lips meeting his.

His fingers dug into her flesh pulling her closer as her hands held his face kissing him.

“You can have all this when we get home. Just keep yo hand to yo’self yeah? You think you can do that big boy?” She teased biting her lip her dark eyes looking at his face. Simon breathless with snugged gloss on his face.

“Yes Ma’am.” He nodded.

“Good.” She finished kissing his lips once more before tapping his hands.

Simon lifted her into the seat, his hands soon starting on her heels taking them off putting them in the back seat. He kissed her calves “Thank you baby.” She smiled stretching her feet.

“Always love.”

Simon was down bad for her. He would do anything and everything she asked but he also knew she would so the same.

.˚₊‧ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ‧₊˚.

I know this isn’t much but I have plans for Stallion!reader and ofcc take requests from y’all what do y’all wanna see?

Tags: @hollyjollybakanigga, @twdhtgawm !!

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

Idk how this even works properly so correct me if I did something wrong

14! Gn reader with Kenji, and Kyoka in Teyvat

If you were not alone

Part II

______

Self-Aware! BSD AU x SAGAU Imposter crossover

Character: Self-Aware! Platonic! Kenji Miyazawa, Self-Aware! Platonic! Kyouka Izumi

Reader: 14! GN! Reader

Warning: English is my second language

____

🐄🐰 One moment you, Kyouka and Kenji were going back home from school.

The second moment you three were in a middle of Chinju Forest.

Kenji took the sudden trip better, than Kyouka and you. The sun was shining, wind was blowing, and, according to your knowledge about the game, Teyvat's people are more or less friendly, and there are travelers from another world.

So, after getting some rest, you three will go to the nearest city and search for dimensional travelers. Everything will be alright.

Besides, local tanukis are so cute, and Ioroi was fun to talk to.

Kenji's optimism was contagious. He does have a point. You aren't looking for troubles. Besides, Traveler and Alice are friendly. They won't hurt you three.

With your spirit up, you started your journey to Grand Narukami Shrine. In Guide, Alice mentioned, that she knew Yae Miko. And Yae did publish said Guide. Maybe, kitsune knew, how to reach Alice.

During your walk, you looked up. And a chill run down your spine. Celestia was gone. A clod, sticky horror squeeze your heart. You knew from somewhere, that it was wrong.

Something terrible has happened.

You decide to think about it when you reached Shrine. You will have time.

🐄🐰 You were lucky. Yae Miko was here, in the shrine. Everything looked normal. Kenji, with big smile on his face, walked towards her, asking for help. But then Yae Miko looked at you. Disbelief, horror, worry. Before someone could react, Yae dragged you three inside the shrine's building.

When the door closed behind you, Yae grabbed your cheeks, looking at your face at every angle. You notice, how Demon Snow appeared behind Kyuoka, drawing its sword.

Yae's voice was trembling.

"Don't waste your power on me, child. Soon you will need it to protect yourselves."

🐄🐰 During Yae's explanation, you felt, how Kyuoka and Kenji sat closer to you. Like they were afraid, that you will be attacked any moment now. Because of orders of 'Creator'.

Yae explained, that just few hours ago, that Creator preformed some sort of ritual. A ritual of finding sinners… People, who looked similar to Creator. Who looked similar to you. And if someone sees you, they would attack. Would try to capture you.

Yae secretly get you away from Narukami Shrine. You weren't safe in Inazuma. Still, Yae asked you to stay here. Until she gets answer from Alice and her whereabouts.

"Run, children. Alice the adventurer might help you. If you managed to get to her, she might find a way to return you home."

When you left, she sent a letter to Alice. The only thing that was left is wait.

🐄🐰At the end of the week, you three were still in Inazuma. And you have a bunch of people on your tail.

And you were worried. Mostly, about Kenji and Kyuoka. They were your friends/adopted siblings. And they were protecting you. Kenji was starving himself, afraid of not being able to help during attack. Kyuoka was constantly using Demon Snow to search for dangers. And it looked like, using their abilities, tried them.

You tried to help as much as you can. You took cooking and keeping camp warm and clean on yourself. You insisted on guarding the camp at night, letting Kyuoka and Kenji sleep.

Despite two of you having abilities, you were just three teens. And you three missed home and the rest of BSD's Cast.

🐄🐰 Second week were better. Thanks to Kenji's kindness, you now were hiding in Yoimiya's house. Who could think, that playing with local kids will let you find help?

Now you were more or less protected.

Kyuoka, Kenji and you even met Itto and Arataki's Gang. They were a loud, but friendly bunch.

🐄🐰 One day, Kuki brought a letter from Yae. Alice will wait for you in Fontaine. She even found a way for you to get here.

After tearful goodbye from Yoimiya and her father, you three, under protection of Itto and his gang, reached Ritou's Island.

Where Chiori was waiting for you.

"So, Creator want to capture three teens? How low Teyvat will sink, I wonder? Okay, kids, let's do some dress up."

🐄🐰 For the next few days, you, Kenji and Kyuoka, dressed in Fontaine clothes, were pissing as Chiori's workers, who were helping to get silk from Inazuma to Fontaine.

Trip were doing fine.

You were so close to getting home.

You just need to find Alice.

🐄🐰In her letter Alice mentioned, that she attends all performances in Opera House. Chiori managed to get tickets for three of you on one of it.

You three celebrated by going to the wilderness and having a picnic.

Unfortunately, Lyney and Lynette saw you three. And Demon Snow, who helped you to cut food. They knew what they must do. Father will be proud.

🐄🐰It happened one week ago. One week ago, when during the preference, Lyney and Lynette blew your cover. One week of captivity. One week of being separated from Kenji and Kyuoka. One week of Alice trying to get you out of captivity. One week of Chiori being under arrest.

You, tortured and bloodied, were standing before Ivory Throne. Lyney and Lynette were standing near Creator's throne. Gold medals were shining on their chests. Creator, your exact double, were grinning. They finally got you.

You heard the sounds of chains. You barely managed to make out Kyuoka's and Kenji's silhouettes.

Creator wanted to break them. Show your broken body.

Big mistake.

You heard screams. Sounds of stones crumbling.

Kenji's growling.

"I must help [Y/N]!"

Kyuoka's hissing.

"Demon Snow, destroy everyone, who hurt [Y/N]!"

You wanted home so bad. It was so wrong, to see Kyouka killing again. To see Kenji angry.

You wished, you three would be home.

Portal opened under your feet.

______

👘🗡️🌂 Fukuzawa Yukichi and Koyouou Ozaki weren't sleeping. They were discussing, what they should do next, trying to find your three.

👘🗡️🌂 Their train of thoughts was interrupted by a loud rumbling, coming from the barn. It was loud enough to woke everyone's up.

👘🗡️🌂 In the barn were you three, and two strange people. Kyouka was holding her knife above Lynette, while Kenji was trying to throw a bolder at Lyney.

And you were laying on the floor. Wounded, but alive.

👘🗡️🌂 It took Dazai's nullification, Fukuzawa 'turning off' Kyouka's and Kenji's abilities, Fukuchi's and Tetchou's strength to drag Kyouka and Kenji from Lyney and Lynette.

They will be dealt later. Now, you three are main priority.

______

👘🗡️🌂🐄🐰You three still were dealing with aftermath of Teyvat's events. You were guarding Kenji's and Kyouka's rooms at night. Kenji refused to eat. Kyouka was using Demon Snow to patrol the house. You three were now under Kunikida's watch. He was making sure, that you three were eating and sleeping. Fukuzawa and Koyouou were staying near. To console you, to protect you. They will make sure, that you will never need to be afraid of loosing your lives.

______

Tag list: @withered-blossoms , @myluckymoon @cocodrilofeliz @c4xcocoa @vvyeislazzy @whisperingwinters

[rin-fukuroi]

𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐅𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 [𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐞 | 𝐉𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐮𝐚𝐧 | 𝐃𝐚𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐧𝐠]

Please do not translate or publish my works without my permission.

The originals of my works can be read here

Fandom: Honkai: Star Rail

Pairings: Blade, Jing Yuan, Dan Heng x fem!reader

Warnings: just a little cute fluff.

Summary: by the will of fate, you both found yourself in a snow-covered Belobog on the eve of the New Year, and it seemed funny to you to offer your lover to fool around and play snowballs.

▶• ılıılıılıılıılıılı. Eve - 白雪

Note: English is not my native language, so I apologize if there are errors in the text qq

I hope these small sketches will awaken the New Year mood in those people who haven't yet been overtaken by it! ଘ(੭ˊ꒳​ˋ)੭✧

✦ Blade

The Stellaron Hunter didn't understand at all what you were offering him and why you were crushing snow in your hands. He decides to just ignore you, continuing to walk back to the walls of Belobog to return to the room and warm up, which, of course, doesn't suit you at all, and only encourages you to catch your brazenly indifferent lover by surprise.

Blade sighs in displeasure when your footsteps fade behind him, forcing him to turn around.

— Y/N, are you coming or…

What an accurate hit! Blade's grumbling is drowned out by a clod of snow flying directly into his face, and you both freeze for a few seconds, but each for a different reason. You suddenly realize what just happened, because you were aiming at Blade's back, and now the only thing you can do is just pray that he doesn't get too angry.

— Oh… S-sorry, Blade… — you cover your lips with your hands frozen from the snow, muttering your apologies uncertainly and watching the lumps of snow slowly fall off Blade's face.

The Hunter himself froze only because he was thinking in his head what he should do with you.

You step back when Blade raises his hand, brushing the snow from his eyes, which instantly open, fixing his menacing gaze on you.

— Hey, you're not mad, are you? I didn't mean to, I just wanted to scare you, and you turned around, that's it.… You wouldn't kill me right before such an important holiday, would you?

The Hunter didn't say a word, silently closing the distance between you and abruptly wrapping his arms around your waist. You only had time to squeal when the gate of Belobog turned upside down in front of your frightened eyes, and the body plopped into the nearest snowdrift.

— What the fuck, Blade?! — you are indignant, but you can't help laughing when you raise your head, meeting the stern gaze of the man looming over you, in whose hair and cheeks there are still snowflakes that have not had time to melt.

— I thought you should cool down your childish ardor a little.

— Oh, come on! — you giggle, throwing another hastily made snowball at Blade's chest.

— I guess I'll just leave you here since you're having so much fun, — the Hunter sighs before turning around and heading towards the gate, leaving you behind.

— Hey! — you're floundering in the snow in a pathetic attempt to get your ass out of a snowdrift, but you're only burrowing deeper. — Blade, wait! Help me up!

Although you can't see it, when Blade stops, the corners of his lips lift slightly, and a smug grunt leaves his chest. Let's see what you can offer in return for his invaluable help.…

✦ Jing Yuan

— Hey, look, he looks so much like you! — you giggle, running up and sitting down in front of a lonely sleeping bear in the snow.

— Ha-ha! And what do I have in common with him? — Jing Yuan chuckles, stopping behind your back and watching you gently poke the nose of a sleepy little animal.

— Whenever I come to your place of work, you always look exactly the same.

— Oh, honey, do you really think I'm such a bum? — the General awkwardly rubs the back of his head as you straighten up and turn around, standing on tiptoe to get a closer look at his shameless honey eyes.

— It's not just my opinion, believe me. You really are a bum, Jing Yuan!

— Unfortunately, I can't agree with you, honey. I can prove that I'm conscientiously fulfilling my duties, but do you have any evidence of my idleness? — the General smiles softly, tightening the scarf around your neck.

— Oh, I have a thousand proofs! A whole gallery of photos of how you shamelessly sleep at work! But I left my phone in the room.…

— Well, in that case, we won't be able to figure out which one of us is right now.

— How about a duel? — you squint, smiling slyly.

— Duel?

— Yes, let's play snowballs, whoever wins is right! Or was the General afraid to lose to a fragile girl? — you gloat, poking your finger into Jing Yuan's chest, ripping another velvety chuckle from his lips.

— Okay. Just don't complain when I win.

— Okay. In that case, don't even think about giving in!

The teddy bear lazily opens its eyes, twitching its ears at the loud sound of laughter and unfamiliar voices coming from somewhere near the place where the animal decided to take a nap. The little heart flinches when a snowball flies in front of the bear's eyes, falling clearly into the fluffy hair of the smiling Jing Yuan.

— Now you are exactly the copy of this bear!

— Oh, really? — the General grins, brushing snow off his shoulder.

— Yes, and you also seem to be losing.

Jing Yuan examines his clothes, which are completely covered with snow, and pretends to sigh in resignation.

— Well, then I'll have to even the score.

— What do you mean?.. — you're muttering to yourself, engrossed in sculpting another snowball, when Jing Yuan slowly sneaks up from behind, grabbing you by the waist with his big hands and dumping you with him into the snowdrift behind which you were hiding. — What are you doing?!

You writhe in the General's arms, feeling the snow seep under your jacket and into your boots, to the sound of a man's loud velvety laughter tugging at your snow-covered hair.

— Now we're both in the snow, how are you going to keep score?

You gently slap your palm against Jing Yuan's chest in mock annoyance, while he refuses to let you out of his arms, pressing you even tighter to his body.

— You!.. If I get sick before the New Year, it will be on your conscience!

✦ Dan Heng

— Play what? — Dan Heng looks puzzled as you collect a small pile of snow in your hands, forming a small ball out of it.

— Snowballs! Defend! — you cheerfully throw a lump of snow into the chest of an incomprehensible man, pausing and freezing for a second when he just silently stares at the snow spot on his jacket.

A doomed sigh leaves Dan Heng's throat, and he looks up at you, adjusting the red scarf around his neck.

— You're acting like a child, Y/N.

— And you're acting like a bore, — you shake your head disapprovingly, resting your mittened hands on your hips. — If you just keep standing like that, you'll soon look like one of these snowdrifts!

— Okay, okay, I get it, — Dan Heng's turquoise eyes roll up under lazily lowered eyelids, but he still bends down, picking up some snow under his feet, clumsily crumpling it into a snowball.

— And how many conversations there were!

Although from the outside it might seem that you are the only one having fun of the two of you, the corners of Dan Heng's lips still slightly lift as you mercilessly bombard him with small snowballs, the attacks of which he reluctantly tries to resist.

You just look so happy and carefree that Dan Heng is unable to resist your infectious playful mood, gradually, unnoticeably for him, joining the duel into which you forcibly dragged him. Although his throws are obviously not as strong as they could be, because he is afraid that bruises may remain on your body, still some excitement wakes up in the man, to which he unknowingly succumbs, hitting one of the snowballs in your head.

— Oh! Y/N, I'm sorry! — Dan Heng immediately runs up to you with a pronounced concern painted on his face, which you only meet with a puzzled look.

— Come on, it didn't even hurt me. I'm okay, — you smile, noticing how prettily the tip of Dan Heng's nose and cheeks have turned red, and take off the mittens from your hands.

— What are you doing?.. — Dan Heng's words melt on the tongue, as does the cold on his cheeks when they are unexpectedly touched by your warm palms.

You giggle, pulling his face down to yours to leave a short kiss on his nose, which is flushed from the cold.

— I'm so glad that I can celebrate the New Year here with you, — your lover's emerald eyes widen when they meet your gentle gaze, and you could swear that you noticed how Dan Heng's face turned even redder after your words. — Shall we go back to the hotel?

— Y-yes…

You pull the mittens back on your palms, which have absorbed some of the cold from Dan Heng's face, and grab his hand, carefully stepping over the snowdrifts under your feet to return to the path you originally walked along.

«I'm glad too…» — these words are spinning on Dan Heng's tongue, but he only tries to bury himself deeper into his scarf so that you don't notice how embarrassed he is.

— And by the way, this time we will consider that we have a draw, but I'll wait for a rematch!

p.s. Part 2?... |･ω･)

[ssha-sssh]

"Creation" Prologue

A/N: It didn't take forever, I did it ❤️

Word count: 2,2K

Warnings: violence, mentions of blood and injuries, mentions of death, swear words

🎧 Jurii Kirnev — Prelude

Among the perennial trees with their branches reaching up to the sky, you don’t see or hear anything.  There is only darkness and silence around.  Clouds floating across a foggy sky.  Twinkling round moon.  Stars hiding behind leaves.  Animal screams.  The flapping of bird wings.  An echo floating above the forest.

And bubbling fear squeezing your ribs.

If only they didn't find you.

It’s impossible to catch your breath or shake off anxiety.  No matter how you try to calm the convulsive sighs, they endlessly escape from your chest, precariously covered by a torn shirt.

Dirty in someone else's and your own blood, you hide among the bushes, tearing the remnants of your clothes with every careless movement.  You're stuck, but you're not trying to get out.  After all, here you, crouched to the ground and holding your ragged breath, are not so easy to notice.  Your trousers and tank top, torn by the tenacious claws of the branches, barely cover your skin stained with bruises and abrasions.  Here and there, wet leaves and clods of dirt stuck to your trembling knees.

There's a knife hole in your right shoulder.  There are flashes of torches before your eyes, and you don’t know where to go as the day approaches — but everything seems unimportant.  After all, as soon as the moon rolls down over the hills, as soon as the first morning cloud falls along the coal sky, and there is just a little time left until dawn, you will have hope...

You're thirsty.  So much so that from the temptation to stick your head out and taste the muddy water from a small puddle, you pull yourself back only when you feel someone else’s presence.

There is a noise behind your back.

The sound of cutting air reaching your ears.  You don't know and don't want to know what it could be.  You are just sinking into the still damp earth, after the rain that passed in the evening, under which you were thoroughly wet.

Your screams remained far beyond the forest, but it seems to you that you did not run away.  And you weren't saved.

Without making a sound, you crawl deep into the thorny bushes.  You cut your cheeks and neck just to remain unnoticed.  With your shirt sleeve you cling to a crooked branch sticking out of the ground.  Trying to escape, you tear both your shirt and the skin on your hands into rags.  If they hear even one sob, they will not spare you.  They were furious when you compared them to animals — but they were hardly human.

People are hardly capable of what they are thinking of doing to you.  People are hardly capable of what they do to everyone who fails to escape.  The wound in the shoulder stings.  All you need now is to survive this night here, among the leaves whipping your face.  And under no circumstances cry from pain...

You don't breathe, merging with the forest.  But the noise overtakes you in your flimsy shelter.

You hope that they will not see you and will pass by — after all, they do not know this place and may get lost in the dark.  You desperately praying for this.  But you almost burst into tears when you immediately remember all the stories that you once heard or overheard.

What if you were found by those who know this place like the back of their hand?  Those who can wander here by touch, relying on animal instincts?.. The sound that comes rips screams from your mouth.

The crack of branches breaking above your head.

It was impossible to hide here... This is truly, as they said day after day, the territory of the apes clan.  Surely they prowl, around every night, killing everyone who ever wanders here.

Screaming when the sharp blade almost cuts off a strand of hair stuck to your face, you crawl on all fours, feeling your way.  You grab onto the grass and tree trunks to escape pursuit, but from another blow from the blade, you fall into a ravine strewn with cobblestones.

Lying on your back, punctured by stones, you see your tormentors.

Unable to move, you bleed and cry.  It would be better if it were the apes from all these stories.

Cause, they'd would kill you quickly.

"Good job.  She doesn’t need legs anyway, but she won’t be fussy anymore"

"But it would be better to knock out this little bitch teeth, just to be sure"

Voices that make you choke with blood filling your mouth.  Vile, deafening laughter.

They found you.

You're scared.  Despair covers your barely beating heart, and the salt of flowing tears stings the scratches on your cheeks.

Blood is gushing from a fresh wound on your thigh, and you try to touch the cut flesh — but your hands are limp, like a rag doll.

When they descend into the ravine, grab you and pull you up by your elbows and ankles, almost tearing you to shreds — you squint and scream from the unbearable pain piercing your entire body.  You are trying to free yourself, to slip out of the hands that cripple you.  Your wrists crack and break just like cut branches. There is no escape from this trap, from these snares.  You want to die here.

You want to avoid giving them disgusting joy.

Because you know what they want to do to you.

You saw and heard what they were doing in the now foreign settlement with all the girls.  You grew up and realized that they had all come to terms with it.  They all accepted their fate without even trying to change anything.

People, generation after generation, living, begetting other people and dying without any meaning.

Locked iron doors.  Men's blows.   Women's screams.  The cries of newborns, children deprived of love and care.  A dungeon with blackened walls and no chance of seeing at least one more sunrise... That's all that will happen if their hands grab you now.

But it cost you too much to escape for your story to end like this.

Wasting your last strength, you kick one in the groin with your health leg.  He yells, cursing you and grabbing the bruised body scarp with both hands.

Dust gets under your nails and falls on your face when you almost get out of the ravine and see the sky again.

But the other one immediately throws you back onto the cobblestones, hangs on top and strangles you.  With all your anger, you hit him with a sharp stone clutched in your hand, turning his grinning face into mush.  You spit in his face and hiss, but his dirty, slippery hands only tighten on your neck.  You are suffocate, beads of cold sweat glistening on your forehead. Scatterings of stars in the waking sky blur in your eyes.

And you think that all this, all the years of miserable life filled with beatings, insults and abuse, is finally over.

Trying to exhale every nightmare moment, you come to terms with your death.  With probably your only freedom.

You imagine where you will go when you fall asleep forever...

Suddenly, the grip on your throat weakens in an instant.  The sounds of brutal fighting and incoherent swearing.  Wheeze, full of pain.  Your lungs take in air again and you cough.  Two dull thuds.  Silence reigned.  It’s so quiet that you can hear the blood spreading.  Not yours.  Raising your head and looking around, all you see is the men who tormented you lying among the dirt, earth and stones.  Motionless, breathless.  A trickle of blood and a quiet laugh flows from your dry lips... You notice a shadow in the grass surrounding the ravine.

Holding your throat with a weak hand, you peer into the rustle of steps and movements.

This is not a human.

But you don't care anymore.

The shadow mounts the horse.  You climb up.  You shiver from the cold night air, piercing to the bones and eating into your body, riddled with cuts.  You stand on your feet, unsteadily.  You look at the shadow, taking a step back.  Small pebbles search your bare feet.  You listen to the breathing of the shadow, hoarse and echoing.  You feel a shadow looking at you. You back away.

Limping hopelessly, you try to run away.

Pulling on the reins, the shadow gallops on horseback behind you —and in the pitch darkness you see the green of the ape’s eyes.

With tormented palms, clutching the moss on the trees and their sharp paws, you run, not making out the road.  You stumble, spitting saliva and blood, but don’t stop.

You can't hide from the ape.  More are trotting in the distance.  The clatter of hooves sounds ever closer as you scurry helplessly along the path.

When the sun rises, illuminating the visible plain with its rays, the earth disappears from under your feet and you fall.  On your back, again. Curly shoots entangle your palms, making their way to your forearms - and it suddenly seems to you that your skin is not dirty and cut, but smooth and untouched.

But the pain returns, intensifies.

Your body seems like a sieve smeared in blood.  Your heart is pounding as if it’s about to fall out at your feet.  You don’t have the strength to run away, you don’t have the strength to breathe... The ape — must be a chimpanzee, if you correctly understood at least some of the stories about these animals, — dismounts, standing up to his full height, approaches you with wide steps and bends over your scratched face, knitting his eyebrows.

Right now you can't see the thoughts in the ape's pupils.

All you can see right now — is a male.  And you're scared again.

Where the wound gapes on your thigh, only threads remain of the fabric of your trousers, exposing your vulnerable skin.

All you can do now is desperately cover yourself with what's left of your shirt.  So that he doesn’t see how the blood flows from your neck to your collarbones, and from there to the valley between your breasts.   But he sees. And his gaze is almost no different from other men predatory gazes.

You look up at him and press yourself into the tree trunk.  You look like a small cornered animal.

“I won’t hurt you...” he says, sitting down on the ground and extending his hand to help you up.  "Who are they?  Why are you... in blood?"

Huddled in patches of wet grass, away from the outstretched hand, you tremble.

Even your eyelashes, which have absorbed the moisture of the coming morning, tremble.

“Noa” he gestures to himself, looking at you expectantly.  He sighs as you curl into a ball, tucking your knees to your chest.  "Do you have a name?  Home?  Family?.."

He saved you from a long and inevitable life similar to death - and it seems that he does not intend to kill you... But why?

How could your deceased parents, who protected you from all evil that exists, be mistaken in human actions?  Could a woman who protected you at the cost of her life lie about ape's earth?  Could the legend passed down from mouth to mouth be just a fiction to keep women within the walls of the dungeon?  Why he help you now?..

And is this help?  He killed them.  This means that he can easily kill you too if he feels like it.

His hands are just as stained with blood as yours. One of them pierced his palm with a knife, which remained in the ravine.  His fingers almost touch your languishing in pain shoulder. Why would he, ape, help you, human? Why is he still holding his long, furry hand outstretched?.. Closing your eyes and biting your tongue so as not to answer his questions, you shake your head.

You will not say a word to any one of the men, or any one of the males.

After your silence, that ringing louder than chirping insects, calloused monkey hands lift you from the damp ground.  You fight back, squeal, scratch in frightened agony... He growls threateningly, but holds you carefully.  His fur is soaked with blood from your wounds.  You whine in despair.

"You have a strong spirit" his chin ends up on the back of your head as the ring of his arms wraps tightly around your shoulders.  You try to free yourself again, but he is strong and stubborn.  "But the body... is weak.  Need help"

You feel the words he said on your tangled hair.

You can hear two more apes riding up on horses, talking about something with the male who holding you. You can see, this is also a chimpanzee.  It looks like they were here for no reason.  But at night?.. You try to listen to what they are saying, but you feel that you are about to lose consciousness, that you are about to fall into the abyss.

Only fragments of phrases reach your ears.

"The echo only brings danger... Destruction"

"Should I have left her? To be eaten by scavengers?"

“But why is the echo here?.. How did she escape from them?”

"And why did they want...?" the alarmed question hangs mid-sentence, amid the dawn and dew.

One of the apes — is female.  And you look at her while a barely audible rustle sounds on your lips.

"Knock my teeth out?"  you asking, continuing her question in a whisper.  "Because I bit off the finger of one of them, and the ear of the second.  I can also bite something off for them inadvertently” you assure her, shaking from fear, cold and the grip on your shoulders.

Your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth after the words are spoken.  The sound of your voice makes the male who won’t let you go hooting.  You feel the muscles in his neck move.

Water, at least one sip of water — is all you think about...

"Why does the echo speak to Soona and silent to Noa?"  asks the third ape without any malice, only with curiosity.

The pain beats in your temples without stopping.  If they are talking about you, then why do they call you "echo"?..

“Stupid Anaya,” the female shows an unclear gesture, slowly approaching you on all fours.  Almost the same as you did when you were hiding.  "Don't you see?  She's scared"

"I saw... their faces.  Without pity.  They would have killed her... What else could I do?" you feel how the hands of the male holding you cover your body, stronger than before.  "I don't know who she is.  I don't know where she's from. But how to help her if she... Is silent?"

The annoyance in Noa tone is almost as palpable as the welt that will soon appear on his palm.   But you keep your mouth shut.

"So what's your name, echo?"  Looking into your eyes, swollen from tears, Soona asks.

“...Y/N” You answer her.  Although you still apprehensive.

They're, surrounding you worriedly, say a lot more.  They apparently intend to take you to their clan - while you rest your humming head on the ape's fur and watch the clouds change colour from purple to yellow and scarlet.

The fear and ignorance of having nowhere to go disappears.  All the colors of dawn fade before your eyes, turning into ripples.

The morning light doesn't help with the darkness and fog in your eyes.  At this moment, you are grateful that the ape's hands are holding you, and you will not have to fall again.  You smile at the sun's rays, unable to object and almost no longer feeling your numb leg.

Taking your hands in his, Noa helps you to your feet.  He grabs you by the waist, placing you on the horse.  His movements are gentle — you hardly feel any pain, even when he holds your still bleeding shoulder.  You can barely keep your balance, so as soon Noa sits in front, you unconsciously wrap your arms around him.  Soona and Anaya are still constantly discussing something.  With arguments and gestures whose meaning you don't know.

Why do you remember ape's names?..

Behind the lush crowns of trees you can see a flowering valley, which seems like paradise to you.

The last thing you hear before you close your eyes from fatigue — is Noa's voice. In the thick fur on his back you sleepily bury your nose, when he says that the road will be long, and tells you to hold on tight.

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 112

Part 1 Part 111

Eddie feels anything but serene as he follows Steve up to the front door of the Harrington house. There’s no expensive car in the driveway aside from Steve’s own, but that doesn’t account for all the neighbors. He still remembers the curtains shifting that night, all the rich folks ready to watch the spectacle Billy, Eddie, and Carol were making of themselves.

“What if someone calls the cops?” Eddie whispers, looking behind them at the seemingly abandoned street. When he turns back around, Steve’s frowning down at his keyring. There’s an empty spot where his house key should be. Right. “Wait, let me–”

Eddie bends down to grab the key from the pot where he’d hidden it. He hands it to Steve with a sheepish smile. Steve doesn’t ask. He turns, fits it into the lock, and twists. The metallic clang of the tumbler turning portends their doom.

“Steve!” Eddie hisses, looking back at all the houses hemming them in.

Steve just scoffs. “Why would they call the cops on a kid going into his own house?” He opens the door wide, ushering Eddie inside until he has no choice but to follow. As if there was ever a world in which he wouldn’t follow Steve anywhere. “There’s no way they told anyone they kicked me out.”

Steve closes the door behind Eddie, clicking the lock and deadbolt home like a bad habit. “Besides, you think Chief Hopper’s going to arrest us?”

Steve doesn’t take off his shoes, so Eddie doesn’t either. Steve skips, light-footed up the stairs, but Eddie clumps, muddy boots leaving clods of dirt with every step. When they reach the top of the stairs, Eddie makes sure to ground his heel extra hard into the new white carpet.

When Eddie takes a little too long to follow, Steve clasps his wrist and pulls him into his old bedroom and shuts the door. He’s not surprised when Steve leads him over to his closet.

He’d known right when Steve’d pulled onto the street.

Steve drops his wrist. He puts his back to the closet wall, slides down it, and sort of crouches there, feet planted on the ground, eyes looking up at Eddie. When he doesn’t move, Steve pats the spot next to him.

Eddie slides down the wall beside him. He ends up sitting criss-cross on the carpet, thigh overlapping Steve’s own. As if waiting for Eddie to take his place, Steve drops his own alert position, falling onto his ass and crossing his own legs so his thigh stays pressed tightly into Eddie’s.

Steve didn’t turn on the bedroom light, but the curtains are open, and there’s still plenty of daylight to burn.

“So…” Eddie trails off leadingly, gaze trained on the atrocious plaid wallpaper that covers the room. “What are we doing here?”

Steve sighs. Eddie feels him shift. He looks over, and Steve’s picking at his fingernails. “I just wanted, I mean, you’re just,” Steve stumbles. He groans, burying his head into his hands before peaking up at Eddie through his fingers. “You know?”

Eddie smiles down at him, equal parts endeared and utterly lost. “Not in the slightest.”

Steve laughs, turning his face fully back into his hands. “Yeah, fair,” he replies, voice muffled into his palms. He groans again, long and loud. “Carol and I practiced this.”

Eddie reaches out to pull one of Steve’s hands free. He resists for a second before dropping them both and pouting up at Eddie. He links their fingers together, and Steve latches on like a drowning man. Eddie runs his thumb across his knuckles.

“Fuck what you practiced.” Eddie’s looking down at their hands. “Just tell me.”

Steve breathes in deep, lets it out slow. He squeezes Eddie’s hand once and speaks, all in one go, like he needs to rush it all together to get the thought out. “This is the first place I ever wanted to kiss you.” Steve laughs. “This was supposed to be romantic, but I forgot all my lines.” He laughs again, but Eddie barely hears it. He’s staring down at their hands, eyes so wide they feel like they’re about ready to pop free from his skull. “Should’ve written it down, I guess.”

Eddie thinks he’s smiling, but he can’t quite feel his face anymore. He can’t imagine Steve sitting next to him, reading off notecards as he stumbles through whatever the hell this is.

Steve doesn’t immediately continue, but he’s already given Eddie so much to pour over, that he hardly notices. Steve Harrington wants to kiss him, has thought about it enough to have a first time, is stumbling over his words trying to talk about it.

“Wait the first time?” Eddie asks, shocked enough to look away from their hands and up at Steve’s eyes. “That first night?”

All Eddie remembers of that first night is fear and Steve Harrington’s body pressed close to his.

“No!” Steve says forcefully, almost glaring over at him. But then he winces, eye twitching half closed as he rocks his head to the side. “Well, yeah probably. I’m always sort of thinking about kissing people.”

“What?”

“But I meant that night on Halloween!” Steve raises his hands in defense, bringing Eddie’s up right along with them to hang in the air awkwardly. “You saved me, you know? And you were wearing my clothes.”

“That does it for you?” Eddie asks, something shaking through his lungs, and making him choke on his words. It emerges as a laugh, unhinged and uncontrolled as he pulls his knees up to his chest, bending down to compress his ribs into them as he shakes with the power of his laughter.

Steve’ still holding his hand up, arm bent awkwardly to the side as he leans forward. “Don’t crack on me now, Munson.”

Eddie leans back, waving his free hand in front of his face as tears stream from his eyes. “Hang on, hang on.” He uses his elbow to wipe the tears away, uncurling as the laughter peters out slowly and dies an awkward death at his feet. “Sorry, sorry.”

He peers at Steve out of the corner of his eyes, afraid of what he’ll see. Steve’s biting his lip against his own amusement, eyes crinkled at the corners the way Eddie loves.

“Can I continue?” he asks, mirth audible in every word.

Eddie rolls his eyes, wiping them dry one last time. He turns away from the ugly plaid wallpaper to face Steve, pulling at their joined hands until Steve turns right along with him, the knees of their crossed legs knocking together.

He’s starting to get an inkling of what this is, and he wants to be able to see Steve’s face as it happens.

“Go on,” he says, squeezing Steve’s hand.

It’s Steve’s turn to look down at their hands as Eddie watches a blush bloom on his face. Eddie keeps holding onto him, and waits. He’s waited a week, a year, a lifetime, for this. He can wait a few minutes more.

“Tommy was my first kiss.” Steve says. Eddie’s shoulder’s hunch then freeze that way. Whatever he was expecting, it wasn’t that. “And Carol was my second.”

The words hang in the air for a second, an arrow to Eddie’s heart. Tommy fucking Hagan who trampled all over Steve’s heart, and Carol fucking Perkins who’d followed right along in his wake.

Eddie doesn’t know what the fuck this is. “What does that…” he starts to ask, voice croaking against whatever feeling is bubbling up in him, but he can’t finish it. What does that have to do with us? He bites his tongue against the words, both hoping and dreading that Steve will pick them out of his brain and answer them anyway.

Steve tugs at his sternum. Eddie shudders and tugs back.

“Carol and Tommy were the ones that were dating,” Steve says, eyebrows furrowed. “That’s what everyone always said, but I was there too, you know?” He looks up at Eddie like he’s expecting something, so Eddie nods, even as his mind spins and spins, never quite clicking back into place.

“I was at most of their dates, and we were each other’s first everythings.” He’s still frowning, but it’s up at Eddie now, and it’s starting to look less like sadness and more like confusion. “They were my everything” He’s squeezing Eddie’s hand hard enough to sting. “So, what was the difference?”

Eddie doesn’t answer. He barely understands the question, even as things start clicking into place. Steve’s heartbreak had always been obvious. In the teddy bear on his bed, and the way he clutched back onto Carol and clung.

There’d always been an empty spot by Steve’s side. The gossip around school was that Steve was too much of a player to ever fill it. It’d continued like that until the trio had imploded upon itself, fracturing into thirds. Even Nancy Wheeler hadn’t made the cut.

Now Eddie’s wondering if there was ever a spot open at all.

Steve still looks like he wants an answer, so Eddie says, “I don’t know.”

Steve shudders, closing his eyes like Eddie had struck him. He pulls Eddie’s hand up to press it to his forehead for a second,

“I don’t know what the difference is,” Steve reiterates, eyes still closed. “But then you kissed me.” Steve pulls Eddie’s hand down his face, pressing a kiss to the back of it as he finally opens his eyes. “And I didn’t know what it meant.”

There’s something burning through Eddie, scorching his veins, cauterizing his words in his throat as he tries desperately to grasp at them. Steve’s looking at him practically begging for answers, and Eddie’s floundering.

Steve throws him a life preserver.

“I heard you talking to Uncle Wayne,” Steve says, and it doesn’t connect until he tacks on, “and Jeff.”

His breath catches. Not a life preserver, an anchor, and he’s at the bottom of the sea drowning.

Steve’s peeking up at him under his lashes. The thing is, he can’t even remember exactly what was said. But he remembers the embarrassment, the pleas for them both to lower their voices.

Was the L word used? He can’t fucking remember.

“But you didn’t…” What? Say anything? What was he supposed to say?

Steve started acting weird that next morning, hadn’t he?

“You said you loved me,” Steve says, a bandaid ripped off a festering wound. “What did that mean?”

Oh. Here’s Steve asking again, what’s the difference. You kissed me, and I didn’t know what it meant.

What does it mean?

Steve’s ears are so red they’re almost bioluminescent. Eddie wants to reach out and see if he can feel the warmth pooling beneath the thin skin. He turns the hand Steve has clasped in his own and held against his face to do just that. The angle’s awkward, and it ends up with Steve’s own wrist bent awkwardly and smooshed against his cheek.

Steve shudders as Eddie trails his pointer finger against the delicate skin. He pulls Eddie’s hand back and for a heartstopping moment he thinks Steve’s going to let go, but all he does is turn Eddie’s hand to press a kiss to the back of it and then drop their still-joined hands into his own lap.

“It meant I wanted more,” Eddie says, scooting closer in the space they don’t have between them. “Means I want more.”

Steve’s laugh is more like a quiet breath, puffing against Eddie’s face, they’re so close. “More like dating?” Eddie’s heartbeat is all the way up in his throat as he nods. “That’s so stupid, Eddie.”

Eddie sucks in a breath, pulling at his hand, but Steve doesn’t loosen his hold. “No wait!” He drops Eddie’s hand, but before Eddie can get any distance, Steve’s clambering into his lap, patting at his chest like he’s looking for a wound. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Eddie’s breath shudders out of him. He sinks into the carpet more firmly, closing his eyes as he focuses on Steve’s grounding weight atop him. This is Steve. Steve, who would never hurt him. Who let him into his home. Who bleed for him, who tried to die for him, who lives with him.

Steve’s so close, when Eddie opens his eyes. His cheeks are still pink, eyes shining. In the dim light, they look like flat pits of brown. Eddie wants to be this close in the light of day, sunlight shining bright enough to reflect the gold in them.

“I know,” Eddie says, reaching out to clutch Steve’s sides. Whatever prey drive had been thrumming through him thoroughly squashed out under Steve’s bulk. He breathes again while Steve waits, in, out, in, out, in. “What did you mean?”

Steve’s smiling a little as he meets his eyes. The angle’s funky, this close. He can barely see his lips, has to crane his head down a bit just to catch them quirking. “I just meant–” He starts before biting his lip and looking away. His brows furrowed again, like he’s thinking hard about what he wants to say.

Maybe notecards wouldn’t have been such a bad idea.

Steve nods, apparently having reached an accord with his own mind. Eddie loves him so much.

“I just meant, that there is no ‘more,’ Eddie.” He lets go of Eddie long enough to make air quotes around the word “more,” because even in emotional situations, he’s fundamentally a bitch. “You can’t get more than we already are.”

Steve doesn’t settle his hands back on Eddie’s chest; he reaches up to cup his face. “We’re the most we ever could be. Dating doesn’t change that. Kissing doesn’t change that.” Steve’s thumb trails along Eddie’s bottom lip emphasizing the point. “You’re already everything.”

Something untenable is running through Eddie. It’s too big, too untamed. Eddie has to do something with it, or he’s going to immolate on all these feelings.

He leans forward and kisses Steve.

It’s not like last time. Last time was soft, sleepy comfort. It was the warmth of a late night and shared bed.

This time, it’s an inferno. Eddie wants to burn up in it.

Eddie wants to consume Steve; he wants to devour. He wants to die in this perfect, infinite moment.

And Steve’s kissing back, just as ferociously. Eddie wants to get lost in it. But he’s got to know, so he leans back, lets their lips brush as he asks, “but kissing’s okay, right?” He leans in, licking the corner of Steve’s mouth, getting some of his teeth as he laughs. “And you’ll just kiss me?”

Steve doesn’t answer right away, except to reel Eddie back in and press into him, hard and needy. “Just you.” He delves in when Steve gasps, ready to burn up on their connection. Steve bites his lip hard enough to sting.

Eddie loses himself in the moment.

It’s less pulling away, and more kisses slowing, gentling even as they linger.

The light’s almost gone, and both Eddie’s legs are dead beneath Steve’s weight. He reaches out to tuck a hair behind Steve’s ear, smiling as it immediately springs free, Steve’s usual gell released from Eddie’s brushing hands.

Eddie’s lips sting, and his throat’s parched. He never wants to get up.

“Was that anything like you and Carol practiced?” he asks, throat a dry croak.

Steve’s eyes are twinkling as he leans back into Eddie’s space. “Well, I hit all the right beats, at least.”

He leans back into Eddie, slotting their lips back together, lingering, lingering, lingering. Eddie pulls back, the desire to kiss Steve and the perpetual need to be a smartass warring within him. “But in the wrong order right?”

“Hey!”

Eddie kisses him before he can make any more complaints. Steve doesn’t seem to mind.

Part 113

[switchgrassdevil]

mota drabble :)

sickfic-esque w/ buck + bucky, crossposted on ao3 here

The sky is still gray.

It’s late afternoon and the atmosphere is mumbling, churning with oncoming rain. He blinks. The damp-earth breeze prods at him. He sways with it like paper and it whirls in his ears, a seashell roar.

Hollow breaths rasp along his throat. When he swallows there’s a cloying ache. He thinks there might be others around, somewhere, though his vision dims and fogs — he hears wisps of distant laughter, muddy voices. He’s not sure where they come from. He’s not sure where he is. He wonders if John is somewhere close.

Something needlelike hums in his skull; an ache smothers his ribs, his eyes, his empty stomach. A raindrop skips against his cheek. He tries to follow its path but loses track. He hasn’t seen John since they fought — he ought to find him, check on him.

Another cool breath of wind pulls across his neck. Taking a faltering step forward, he reels with dizziness, floundering — his skeleton feels fragile as a bird’s, his head a rush of floating sparks.

“Buck?”

He blinks. Static blooms and bleeds across his vision. He blinks again, and then he can’t see at all.

“Buck?”

The sound is closer now. He has the vague sense that it must be John’s voice, however far-off and underwater. It falls apart on the way to Gale’s head and he can’t understand most of the words, can’t fit them back together.

“Buck, hey.”

Sounds of footsteps. Easy rainfall.

“Hey, hey —!”

Darkness falls to clouds and gunfire, smoke and a loaded die, his father’s fierce right fist.

There’s a moment of thick, murky quiet. Then sound erupts and surges against him, close and disarranged. He struggles to close his eyes, struggles to reopen them. He’s on his back.

The sky is still gray.

The silver wind sweeps over his body, chilling him, but there is warmth, too. There are hands on him — one sits beneath his head, fingers cradling his skull, a thumb brushing again and again against his temple. The other skitters across his forehead, his cheek.

He blinks again, looking dizzily upward. A shape manifests from the coarse, dim sky: a face, dark hair. He’s not sure who the face belongs to.

“There you go, Buck,” the face says. The hand on his face soothes over his cheekbone. It’s so warm, featherlight; he shivers, teeth clacking. “You’re alright.”

Shuddering, he hums. He is alright. He’ll be fine, even if this must be worse than usual — his father rarely hits him hard enough to stun like this. But this is not his father, not with these easy murmurs and gentle hands. Where is his father? Has he left?

“He… g’out?” he tries to ask, though his mouth feels numb and impossible, his words slurred.

The hands pause; the dark, hazy brows draw together. “What’s that, Buck?”

He exhales, pain arcing across his abdomen. The hollow in his stomach stirs and seethes. He winces, gasping, and the soothing touches return. “D’he go out?” he asks again.

Another sweep of breathless wind, another raindrop breaking near his ear. A thumb runs across his jaw, coaxing. “Who, Buck?”

Who? He hesitates, a pang in his head. He blinks, and the features above him pool and run like water. Swallowing against the dry ache in his throat, he lets his fingers skim the cool ground.

The face above him leans away. In some indiscernible place to Gale’s left he hears its voice, tense and harsh, snapping. Boots clod over the claylike earth. Shadows appear all around him, vague and faceless.

With a muted twinge he wonders if the men are standing for a reason, if he ought to go, too. He hasn’t flown in a while; he’ll be rusty. He wonders if this’ll be anywhere he’s flown before.

“‘S’re a new one?” he slurs, watching the shadows grow closer, faint and fumbling shapes. They kneel, they reach.

The man above him leans down close. “Huh?”

Abruptly Gale knows it’s John — he can see the familiar slope of his nose and the hard keenness of his eyes — and his sternum thaws with muzzy relief. “We…” he starts, then trails off with a panting breath. Swallowing, he tries again. “We… know?”

John shakes his head, sweeping a slow thumb under Gale’s eye. “You’re not makin’ sense, Buck,” he murmurs. He raises his head, then, and addresses the crowding shadows, then leans back down. “Just relax, yeah? We’re gonna get you inside.”

Then there are more hands on him, on his legs and under his shoulders, and they grip tight and pull up as the world dissolves to vertigo and breathing.

He comes to in their cabin, lying on his bunk. He feels a bit clearer now, a bit more pained. He must’ve only been out a few seconds — the other footsteps are just retreating. Shifting, his body feels half-numb with cold and thick with aching. His boots are gone.

The cabin door closes with a dull thump. In the new quiet he shivers.

A hand cards through his hair, then falls away. Through bleary eyes Gale follows it, watching John stand. For a moment he’s worried he’ll leave.

But then John is pulling off his own boots and sliding in beside him, pulling Gale carefully to his chest. One broad hand soothes up and down his spine as the other cradles the back of his head, pulling him to rest his forehead against the warmth of John’s shoulder.

“You gotta get some rest, Buck,” John murmurs, fingertips scratching lightly over his scalp.

Gale shudders through the new warmth, the fog, the persistent pain. John squeezes him tighter.

“And,” John says, warm and close against his ear, “you’re eating at least half my ration tonight.” And then, when Gale begins to shift: “No, you are; don’t say anything. If you croak I’m going with you anyway, so no point in arguing.”

Gale thinks he should say something against that, but then John’s lips press against his temple, achingly warm.

“Go to sleep,” John whispers. “I got you.”

Gale closes his eyes, John’s hands soothing his raw mind to something faint and syrupy. He falls asleep against John’s collarbone, lulled by his breathing. He dreams of a sick-gray sky that goes on forever.

[mega-aulover]

Can we appreciate just how amazing Peeta Mellark is? I mean a teenage boy who basically slept in the bed of the girl he was in love with, adored, obsessed with, and never crossed the line. I think it was @arbyeatscheesebuns hubby @hubbyofaneverlarkedwife who pointed out Peeta was playing the long game. Peeta was just a nice guy who always wanted to do the best thing for Katniss.

Nice guys don't always finish Last.

Peeta sacrificed everything for Katniss. She was important to him. So much so that Peeta was the only one who acknowledged Prim's death.

No one, not Haymitch, Not Greasy-Sae, Not Mrs. Everdeen, Not the Capitol, Not Paylor, Not Districts, Not District 13, Not Gale, Not the Hawthorne Clan, NO ONE - Except Peeta - acknowledged Prim's death.

He understood what Prim's death meant to Katniss and how devastating that was for Katniss. The first thing he did when he came from the Capitol was spent the entire morning seeking Primrose Bushes in the woods (which he's not familiar with!) and then proceeded tp plant them as a memorial to Prim, on the side of Katniss's house.

I wake with a start. Pale morning light comes around the edges of the shutters. The scraping of the shovel continues. Still half in the nightmare, I run down the hall, out the front door, and around the side of the house, because now I'm pretty sure I can scream at the dead. When I see him, I pull up short. His face is flushed from digging up the ground under the windows. In a wheelbarrow are five scraggly bushes.

“You're back,” I say. “Dr. Aurelius wouldn't let me leave the Capitol until yesterday,” Peeta says. “By the way, he said to tell you he can't keep pretending he's treating you forever. You have to pick up the phone.” He looks well. Thin and covered with burn scars like me, but his eyes have lost that clouded, tortured look. He's frowning slightly, though, as he takes me in. I make a halfhearted effort to push my hair out of my eyes and realize it's matted into clumps. I feel defensive. “What are you doing?” “I went to the woods this morning and dug these up. For her,” he says. “I thought we could plant them along the side of the house.” I look at the bushes, the clods of dirt hanging from their roots, and catch my breath as the word rose registers. I'm about to yell vicious things at Peeta when the full name comes to me. Not plain rose but evening primrose. The flower my sister was named for. I give Peeta a nod of assent and hurry back into the house, locking the door behind me. - Mockingjay CH 27 S. Collins

He was the only one of all of the people who knew Prim, that openly mourned her death. Peeta showed the depth of emotion he had for Katniss and her family. It was a sign of respect and love.

[lodium]

Frequent anxiety due to air raid alerts, sounds of shelling and news makes it even harder for me to concentrate in order to do my routine. I rarely talk about this and am used to quietly helping, but Russia's invasion on Ukraine is still going on. It's not only because of the attack on Kyiv hospital, there were other civilian targets already.

The doctor told me to read less news and worry less, but in this situation it's hard. I try to distract myself by drawing what I like and playing games.

Sometimes I wonder if this makes me look more frivolous and unemotional than I actually am (nervous and frightened clod). It makes things go very bad for me If I let emotions go all the way. And maybe I just got used to hide them or not knowing how to act right, expressing things in drawings or running away and closing, being in the fog with mind. They reassured me with “If the rocket arrives, then there is nothing to do and nothing to be afraid of.” In truth, my thoughts have been depressive for a long time, but because of this the presence of fear surprises me. Maybe it's the fear of painful death, unfulfilled promises and the unknown. I needed to talk it out again. Still can't get my thoughts together to express good. Maybe strange of me to make it so abruptly. But people in my country are in danger every day and it's my account, so I guess

I will be back to distracting myself again. Don't be surprised in the sharp changes of my posts' mood

[militantinremission]

Democratic Shills: Simping ain't easy

Like that 'Ole Man River', The 'Ole Black Bootlicks' keep Rolling along! Not to be outdone by DL Hughley, Rickey Smiley & Charlemagne 'The Clod'- Dr. Michael Eric Dyson, Roland Martin, Luther Campbell, & Steve Harvey had to add their names to the List of Democratic Shills demanding Blackfolk Vote for Kamala Harris; w/o asking for ANY POLICY in return for Our Vote. This effort to motivate Black Men to 'Vote Blue' By Any Means Necessary appears to be an ALL HANDS ON DECK situation.

Black Alpha Network made a great analysis, when he compared the Democratic Party to a Slave Plantation. He compared the Democratic Shills to the Slave Patrol and the 'Vote Blue, no matter Who' Crowd w/ Happy Slaves... My first 'Slave Hunter' is Michael Eric Dyson, who has gone out of his way to shill for Kamala & the Democratic Party. His actions are more than cringe worthy, the man comes across like a Street Pimp w/ a PhD. Dyson's language is not just pompous, he can be as cheesy as a Storefront Minister. In his effort to shill for Kamala Harris:

He tried to shame Black Men for daring to question Kamala's 'Sistah Credentials'

He apologized [disingenuously] in a 'Love Letter to Black Women'. Dyson says this letter is written on behalf of ALL Black Men for past mistakes, but HE is the one that's guilty of indiscretions against former female Students

He purposely Race Baited a Congresswoman on CNN for mispronouncing Kamala's name. Dyson claimed to be defending a 'Black Woman', but in the process he disrespected the Host, Abby Phillip

Luther Campbell then goes on an Anti Black rant where he calls Blackfolk 'Stupid Negroes' for questioning Kamala Harris' 'Blackness'. In another instance, Luke gives Black Men 'One more chance' to return to the Democratic Party. Luke is of Jamaican descent & I could understand his view if Kamala identified as 'Part Jamaican', but she doesn't. She only touted her Jamaican Lineage when Charlemagne 'The Clod' asked if she smoked marijuana in College. This motivated her father to come out of the shadows to denounce her comments & warn her against playing 'Identity Politics'. In an interview w/ Kamala Harris, Luke certifies her 'Blackness' on the Basis of:

Fried Chicken

Guns

Fico Scores

Living an 'Afrikan American Life'(???)

It's ironic to see the Architect of Misogynistic Rap working so hard to legitimize Kamala Harris. Despite his effort to link her w/ Black American Culture, Kamala went out of her way to avoid saying: Yes, i'm Black. Instead, she played semantics by associating her Experience as a 'First Face', w/ being someone outside the 'Box' of Popular Perception. She used the example of The Boy Next Door... This Method of Tricknology is not unique in the Culture of Brownfolk; I imagine THIS is how Mindy Kaling's brother, Vijay Chokalingam navigated Medical School as a 'Black Man'.

Roland Martin, aka 'Baron Von Buttah Biscuit' has been the Poster Child of 'Simping Democratic Shills'. His attitude towards Blackfolk that reject Kamala Harris for whatever reason, is as Anti Black as a White Supremacist. He frequently uses profanity when talking about Us, & never fails to use derogatory terms to describe Us. Despite his Tough Talk, Roland went viral when he was confronted by Chicago Activist, Ja'Mal Green at the Democratic National Convention. Roland insulted Ja'Mal's intelligence on 'X', then devoted a Show to further insults. It's apparent that Roland didn't expect Ja'Mal Green to confront him Face to Face. This follows his embarrassment at the National Association Of Black Journalists Convention.

Refusing to be outdone by the others, Steve Harvey not only responded to Dr. Umar Johnson's accusation of getting paid to shill, he Doubled Down on his Unconditional Support of Kamala Harris. According to Steve- he, DL Hughley, & Rickey Smiley are ALL 'Que Dogs'. He went on to say that Ques RUN the Airwaves of Black Radio. Steve Harvey then stated matter of factly that he not only promotes Kamala Harris, but will FREELY:

Invite Kamala on his Program Again & again & again

Ask her 'Soft Ass Questions'

'Lob the Basketball' to her, so she can Slam Dunk Questions

Agree w/ whatever she says

Steve didn't do Omega Psi Phi Fraternity Inc. any favors by touting himself, DL Hughley, & Rickey Smiley as Members. Ques aren't known for being Crybabies. Say what you will about Jesse Jackson, but he was the Image most of Us associated w/ 'Omega Men'. This is becoming a Real Issue, as Blackfolk question the motivations of 'Divine Nine' Members. These people proudly proclaim being Boule at a Time when it's not very popular among the Black Grassroots. This group was supposed to be the Architects of Black American Society. They were supposed to represent the Entrepreneurs & Professionals that laid the foundation of an Independent Black Economy. Over the last 30Yrs, these 'Black Elites' appear to be more comfortable working in the Social Matrix, than creating a Matrix of their Own.

Statistics still show Black America having a Collective Net Worth of $0 by the Year 2053. Asian Americans & Latinx are expected to leap frog Us in Population & in Assets. For some reason, Black Business Leaders, Celebrities, & Politicians continue to promote a 'Black & Brown' Agenda to the detriment of Our Own Community. The unconditional promotion of Kamala Harris also reveals a Colorism Element among this group. Black Men & Women can generate Millions of Dollars for her Campaign in a matter of hours, but can't raise funds for Black Farmers & Businesses to expand their Operations. I understand that many in the 'Black Intelligentsia' moved to the Suburbs, but what happened to Investing in the Old Neighborhood?

This current group of Boule is playing a very dangerous game. The Black Grassroots are sick & tired of The DNC's disregard of Black Specific Issues. Barack Obama exhausted whatever patience We had left. Black Wealth has nosedived over the last 16Yrs, while White Wealth has increased by over $60T. This All started during Barack Obama's Tenure, but he did nothing to stop the bleeding on Our Side of The Tracks. Instead, Barack gave Us Symbolic Gestures w/ one hand & Cultural Critiques w/ the other. Everyone Else received Policy that protected their respective Communities. Folks like Roland Martin, Steve Harvey, DL Hughley, & Joy Reid came into their Own during this Time; like Obama, they also chose to denigrate Us w/ insults to Our Intelligence.

We must remember that this group has ignored Us Collectively for over 3Yrs, but now they expect Us to blindly Vote for the Democratic Ticket. This is after lauding Black Women as the 'Backbone of the Democratic Party', while casting Black Men as Villains over the last 8Yrs. Their effort to create a Gender War among Us has failed. The Black Celebrities & Democratic Shills trying to shame Us into voting for Kamala Harris can't tell Us what her Platform is, let alone her Black Agenda. Some of these characters look desperate in their attempt to sway Us. Perhaps they realize the damage that they're doing to their Personal Brand & whatever Social Capital they have. Several have posted Videos where they appear to be in an 'Altered State'.

-Like Yvette Carnell says: Pressure busts Pipes.

[fizzigigsimmer]

This is dedicated to @dragonflylady77 who is amazing always encourages me to write more in this verse and who has been having a rough week. Inspired by this post by @ariesbilly

Billy is going to have to ask out the hot neighbor who runs past his window every morning in the hospital.

In his defense he doesn’t plan for it to go down like that initially. He actually has a really good idea on how he’s going to get The Runner (what he’s going with absent of a name) off the sidewalk and into his bed. Symbolically speaking, because Billy has had too much sixty-nine in dirty club bathrooms to be a princess about whether there’s an actual bed in their future or not. 

Which is kinda how Billy arrives at his idea in the first place - the sixty nine bit. Billy’s flexible as shit, and believes in the sanctity of total body workouts. Because he’s not trying to look like an asshole. It’s about engaging muscles in equal proportions so you don’t end up looking like fucking Donkey Kong.

Anyway, Billy can do a handstand with the best of them. He can do a handstand while doing pushups. He can do a handstand one handed while doing pushups. He can do a handstand one handed while doing pushups and holding a barbell. It’s impressive shit, and it has gotten him more than a few coded glances at the gym.

The goal here is to get a piece of that ass - or better yet, let that third arm The Runner’s tight little shorts do absolute wonders with, get a piece of him - but Billy’s classy with it. He figures he’ll treat The Runner to a little show before the main event.

There is a bottle of fresh orange juice and a carton of eggs in his fridge that says he knows how to show a guy he’s more than just a hit and dip. Billy even showers before he goes outside to begin his workout, considerate of the fact that sweat & musk isn’t everyone’s favorite combination. He does up his hair, forgoes a shirt, and puts on his sluttiest pair of sweats - the ones that make his ass pop - gathers up his shit and heads out into the front yard at just after seven A.M. His runner doesn’t usually come by until around half past, but Billy doesn’t want to chance missing him.  

Billy sets his towel and his barbells off to the side, facing the sidewalk, so that he’s got a reason to ask the runner to stop and he can see the runner coming without looking too obvious about it. He does some stretches to get limber, along with a set of jumping jacks to get his heart pumping and work up a bit of a sweat. 

A group of pre-teen girls wearing backpacks decide that right outside his house is where they need to stop and decide if one of them still has a crush on someone called Pineapple. Billy has no idea why they feel the need to speak in code like he gives a shit about their middle school drama, but they’re taking up the whole damn sidewalk with it. So Billy chucks a clod of dirt at their feet and smirks as they all jump and scream like a snake tried to bite their heels. 

The bravest of the group demands to know why he threw dirt at them to which Billy just snaps, “No loitering!”

Pouty and reluctant, the group starts to move on. Just in time too, because Billy spots The Runner turning the corner at just that moment. With a thrill of anticipation Billy times it in his head to give a good show and then baits the hook. He turns and bends down onto his hands, ass out, and then lifts his feet into the air. He peeks over his shoulder to make sure the runner is watching - oh hell yeah, he’s watching Billy with this sort of dumbstruck expression, lips parted and doe eyed - and then does a few standing crunches just to sweeten the pot.

All that’s left is to seal the deal.

“Hey can you -” Billy starts to ask if the guy can hand him one of the barbells on top of his towel but a girlish scream interrupts him. It’s not like the dirt clod scream where it was just a bunch of girls being dramatic, it’s different. The bad sort of scream that means someone has really gotten hurt or is about to. Billy falls back onto his feet as quickly as he can, instincts on high alert just as the sound of a crash follows the scream.

He sees the runner splayed out on his back halfway through the ratty old fence in the neighbors yard. The group of girls are surrounding a girl on the ground, who is clutching her leg but staring on in horror at where the runner has fallen. 

“Jesus Christ! What the hell happened?” Billy demands to know as he runs over.

“I was tying my shoe! He just tripped right over me.” The girl on the ground wails. Her friends back her up presumably. In any case they do a lot of talking at once that Billy doesn’t really listen to once he’s got the gist of it - girl bruised but okay, his plans for the morning possibly broken or dead.

Thankfully one of the girls has some sense, and a flip phone because she gets on it and starts to dial 911.  Billy doesn’t think the guy is dead judging by the way he’s groaning as he tries to lift himself, but the blood streaming down one side of his face does make him think he may have broken him a little bit.

“Hey, hey, don’t move.” Billy warns him, crouching at his side. He puts hands on him because the guy is wearing a glassy eyed expression that doesn’t give Billy great confidence that he can hear anything but the birds circling around his head. 

“You’re bleeding from your head. Are you hurt anywhere else?” Billy asks. A glance over the guys really trim and scantily clothed body would imply that other than a few scratches on his arms and legs the biggest problem is the bump on the head, but it doesn’t hurt to be sure.

“I’m a grown man dad I can smoke pot if I wanna.” The Runner slurs, turning his head in Billy’s direction. He blinks owlishly at him as if he’s just noticed him for the first time. “Oh hi. You’re really pretty.”

Billy smirks.

“Pretty enough for you to trip over your own ass?”

Brown eyes blink back at him in glazed confusion, the runner’s brow furrowing with deep consternation.

“No. No… it wasn’t my ass, it was…” 

He tries to turn and point like a drunken child and Billy stops him before he can hurt himself further, cause he’s obviously concussed as shit.  

He’s also stupidly cute. So while Billy wasn’t really planning for this whole thing to end in a hospital bed, and to spend his morning playing bedside vigil he’s not too mad at it either.  It’s not every day someone literally falls for you.

[littlesniggy]

Monster

Hellooooo....it's been a minute but I'm kinda back with a new story. It's a mafia AU with Mihawk and Crocodile. I'm still thinking about turning this into a multi-chapter story with smutty content later but not sure yet. Also, wanted to see your reaction if anyone is even interested. Please let me know how you liked it! Warnings: mention of torture, threat of death, waterboarding, mention of blood, reader is in great danger, mention of other bodily fluids Charakters: Dracule Mihawk, Sir Crocodile, Buggy the Clown, female reader Word count: 1.5k

Part Two

The impatient thudding of the tips of his long fingers against the dark wood of his mahogany desk was the only sound you could hear over your heavy breathing and the blood rushing in your ears. You were soaking wet; water was running down your face, your neck and disappearing into your soaking clothes. Strands of wet hair clung to your cold skin and your entire body was shivering. You felt dizzy. 

Next to you stood a man with a big cigar between his lips, holding a half-empty canister that was previously filled to the brim with water. His lips were forming a sadistic smile at your pathetic sight and he was more than ready to place the dirty towel back over your face and start the torture once again. 

“Are you sure you have no idea where your people hid the money?” his piercing amber eyes, that seemed to be almost yellow depending on how the light fell, looked at you almost bored yet observant and his voice matched that expression; his tone was nonchalant but had a certain edge to it that would not permit any kind of defiance.

“Of course, she knows where the money is! She is the one who fucking stole it!” that voice you knew. Next to the big desk was a fancy-looking sofa where the supposed head of this organization was sitting. You (and really anyone you knew) have been under the impression that he was running everything. Sure, he didn’t look like a lot but he had practically an army from thugs to clod-blooded murderers underneath him, so he was certainly not someone to mess with. But when he was silenced with a single glare from the man in front of you, you weren’t so sure anymore who actually was in charge.

“If you can’t behave, I suggest you leave, clown.” The man mumbled but it had the desired effect – Buggy was silent. Now, his attention was all back on you and you couldn’t say you were particularly happy about that. 

“I am still waiting for an answer. Or do we have to waste some more water on you?” A shuffle next to you put your whole body back on edge.

“I don’t know anything! I’m just the driver!” the words tumble over your tongue hastily, hoping to escape another round of waterboarding. 

“Yes, that’s what you said before yet somehow I don’t believe you.” The man in front of you mused. He glanced to his partner who was standing next to you. “How about you, Crocodile?” 

You’ve heard that name before but never had a face to it. Sir Crocodile – nobody knew his real name – was notorious, even among people in the underworld. If you didn’t have a particular death wish you made sure to stay clear of his business. But why was he here? 

“I think our little guest here knows more than she wants to admit. But this one is your call, Hawkeye.” 

You suddenly felt nauseous, your blood ran cold, bile started to threaten up your throat, and your entire body started shaking uncontrollably.  Hawkeye. Why was he here? As with Sir Crocodile, you had no idea what Hawkeye, Dracule MIhawk, really looked like but apparently, he was sitting right in front of you. If luck wasn’t on your side before with Sir Crocodile next to you, it had now outright abandoned you and thrown you to the wolves altogether. You balled your tied hands into fists, trying to wrench yourself free from your restraints but to no avail. 

Mihawk sighed seemingly defeated and nodded his head quickly in affirmation. 

“No!” You yelled but the towel was pressed onto your face once more, the chair was pulled back and immediately water started pouring out of the canister and onto your face. 

Hawkeye watched as the other man attempted to drown you, his fingers non-stop tapping against the dark wood. He didn’t know if he should believe you or not but quite frankly, he didn’t really care. Even if you told the truth and were some oblivious little girl – you were still part of the group who stole his money. And that was something he couldn’t let slide. 

He watched passively as your body convulsed under the water; how you tried to turn your head but the towel clung to your face like a second skin. He knew Crocodile wouldn’t kill you unless he gave the OK so he averted his gaze to his right where Buggy was still sitting, his eyes glued to your struggling form. 

“Get out.” Mihawk simply said. Buggy’s head snapped towards him with a venomous glare but was quick to rethink his next words carefully. 

“But-“ 

“I said get out. Or you’re next.” Without saying another word, the clown got up and left the room through a side-door which lead to another office. 

Mihawk’s attention was brought back to you when you started coughing violently as Crocodile removed the towel, the canister still filled to a quarter. He was glad he thought ahead when deciding on their new operating base. This room had a concrete floor with a drain in the middle. The expensive carpet that usually embellished the cold floor was neatly placed at the far end of the room. 

Your lungs were burning and your vision was blurry. Your knuckles had turned white from how fiercely your hands clawed at the armrest of the chair you were tied to. “Please….” You whimpered between coughs.  “I don’t know anything. Please, believe me.” Your pleading was met with silence from Mihawk and an amused chuckle from Crocodile.  

Your eyes started to focus again and you looked at the man in front of you, begging him silently with your eyes to believe you, to stop hurting you, and to please let you go. 

“Please, let me leave.” You whispered; tears started rolling down your cheeks.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”  uncontrollable sobs left your body and you started crying shamelessly. Your head hung low as you were shaking your head over and over in denial but that wouldn’t save you. 

Hawkeye got up from his chair and slowly walked around the desk until he stood beside you. Out of the corner of your eyes you could see his black boots. You instinctively inched away when he crouched down beside you, holding a knife in his one hand while the other one played with the sharp blade. 

“Please…” you tried again but MIhawk shushed you. 

“You see, I’m quite in a predicament here.” He started and he traced the blade of his knife over your leg, cutting through the thick denim of your jeans in the process. A whimper escaped your lips. “Don’t…”

“If you are lying and I’m letting you go, that would give people the wrong impression of me. If you are not lying and I let you go, people would still get the wrong impression of me. You might not be the one who stole from me but someone else from your organization sure did and it would let people believe that I am easy to steal from. So, the only option where I at least would keep my good name would be to simply kill you.” The pressure on your leg increased and you screamed in pain and at his words.

“If you don’t know anything, you are worthless to me and if you do know something you probably won’t tell me. Either way, I have no use for you anymore.” 

“No, no, please!” panic took over your mind and body and you’d do anything to survive this ordeal. “What if I do know something!” you tried to bargain, knowing fully well that you knew nothing. 

Mihawk’s lips were pressed into a joyless smile, his eyes were looking at you almost pitiful. Almost. 

“I’d kill you faster as a reward.” His voice could’ve sunk the titanic by how cold it was. Your heart sunk to your stomach, all blood that was still in your head also seemed to leave as you looked at the man, the monster, in front of you, telling you calmly that he’d end your life no matter what. 

Your brain was unable to grasp the thought of death as you suddenly felt extremely tired. It was as if someone put a warm blanket over your head that slowly drained out the last bit of light. Were you dying? But where was the pain? There was something warm running down your legs so were you already bleeding to death? It felt soothing. Your breathing became slower and slower, Mihawk’s face became nothing but a blur and then there was darkness. 

.

.

.

.

.

.

“She passed out.” Crocodile noted amused as he pressed his cigar out in the ashtray on the desk. Mihawk nodded and got back up, his eyes looking at your unconscious form.

“And she peed herself.”