#i hope in US more sane but there are admirers of this ......

[enbesbians]

here’s a little writers update.

though im in the process of writing a fight club abby fic, im also picking up my ‘pomegranate juice’ fic. i left a sneak peak already to show what the overall vibe was.

here it is.

just to let everyone know that this fic is a bit different from the other’s that i have posted— i enjoy morbid love more than i like to admit. the way cannibalism can be used as symbolism for love. ive made numerous entires pertaining to it and never really made much of any of them public.

i thought it would be a good idea to finally go through with that and finalize an abby fic just like that. it’ll be more on the poetic side of things where certain things said will be in feelings, conscious wants rather than actions. it’ll make more sense when it’s uploaded.

extended summary: the rawness of love can take a person by surprise, especially when the person pops into one’s life by accident rather than intentional. abby, she thought she had all the pieces together in her life. she thought she had herself all figured out. whatever she wanted in regards to her desires and ambitions came clear to her and the end goal was just as easy. but when you came along, it seemed like all of that came dwindling downhill. you rotted her— made her learn that love wasn’t just something that can be felt and touched yet hungered and devoured. your being wrapped around her tongue like the most delicate dessert, coddling her mind and her veins like a growing disease that made her believe that all things insane was sane. interest molds into obsession and obsession to greed. your body being a temple she wanted to concur, control and feast. if she could, she’d let love settle on her tongue if it meant that the love you shared was the flavor of your flesh or as sweet as your slick. nothing about you made her feel like anything she had before where you complimented her bones and the way her blood tasted when it spilled from it’s wound— where the psychotic tendencies that festered between the love you shared turned into cannibalistic infatuations. just as much as you wanted to feel her skin, muscle and bones wrap around you like a suit, she wanted to feel the vibration of your heart across her tongue as if she were to finally be able to have a piece of you. so what does that make both of you? crazed lovers? or completely sane admirers?

anyway, just wanted to let people know that this is what’s to come next (as well as meeting your online gamer friend in person (an ellie fic) and fight club abby). i hope to post it earlier than i had with my last fic that took me forever to post.

hope everyone’s day is going well.

[withlibertyandjusticeforall]

the inhumanity of a lot of the comments under the video--

probably a lot of them are russian trolls or russia sympathizers...

it's just shocking how they want a man beaten up for a parody video. This is russia today.

-

some comments

• russia is a very rigid society with rules and expectations clearly spelled out. He should be grateful he had the opportunity to learn a lesson about appropriate behavior as an uninvited guest in a country before offending a serious no BS states such as Saudi Arabia, Thailand or Singapore.

• Well making fun of war and people dying should have some repercussions. The tik tok generation is in for a rude awakening from "reality"

WOW! Another attention seeker wanting to go to an early grave. Russia isn't weak like America where you can rant all you want.

• A parody of a war action? Torturing and deportation were too good for this clown.

slap him for me please.

He is lucky. He sh0uld be thanking the Russians for not ending his life.

I think he might die in a pillow fight. He soft; like woman. Put him up against Tyson

[there are similar comments under other videos of people who are tortured, such as a man who was tortured and raped for a poem.)

[youneedsomeprompts]

~ BLACK CAT X GOLDEN RETRIEVER ENERGY ~ OTP PROMPTS

requested by: @moondrop-gummies request: Can you do grumpy sunshine where she’s the grumpy but doesn’t believe she can be loved and he’s the sunshine who treats her like she’s the best thing in his life and they’re roommates? Thank you in advance! 🎀

Feel free to use and reblog!

Part 1: ~ GRUMPY X SUNSHINE ~ PROMPTS

grumpy being unable to accept anything kind that sunshine tries to do for them

sunshine just admiring anything grumpy does

sunshine staying at home despite being invited elsewhere just to spend more time with grumpy

sunshine doing the things around the house that grumpy dreads doing

grumpy being snarky about the nice things sunshine does but they both know grumpy is actually enjoying them

sunshine having endless patience with grumpy because they know/hope that they'll come around eventually

sunshine making sure to tell grumpy that they deserve the world

grumpy warming up to sunshine and being in a bright mood in sunshine's company

grumpy being patient with sunshine and listening to their long, colourful stories but that's the least they can do when sunshine does everything for them

grumpy's love language is telling sunshine that they deserve more (than grumpy could ever give them)

sunshine's love language is showering grumpy with affection until grumpy snaps

grumpy trying to push sunshine away to guard themselves from developing serious feelings

grumpy hyping sunshine up when they find out that sunshine has a crush, not knowing that it's them

^ and immediately changing course when they find out (because sunshine shouldn't throw their love away on someone as undeserving as grumpy)

sunshine not paying any mind to grumpy's self-depricating rants and just keeping up their high level of affection and warmth

grumpy being able to let their guard down and accept the love because of sunshine's unconditional and unwavering support

grumpy 'you're an idiot to choose me' & sunshine 'I would be that idiot in any universe and you love it'

grumpy being seriously worried about sunshine having developed feelings for grumpy ("you can't be sane. you should see a doctor.")

grumpy being the biggest sunshine stan but they adore them too much to be willing to expose them to the madness that means grumpy

sunshine doing everything with grumpy that want but nothing more and nothing less because they know how important it is to respect grumpy's boundaries

[azure-cherie]

PAC : Who of the nine Greek muses do you embody ? A message from the muse

➪Pile : 1-2-3 ☟︎︎︎ 4-5-6 ☟︎︎︎ 7-8-9

Hii loves how have you been , I'm back again with a reading, I hope you enjoy this please choose with your intuition and take what resonates , Reblogs, comments feedbacks everything is highly appreciated ❤️

If you liked this and would like to book or would want a bigger reading on the same topic :

Masterlist , paid readings , paid readings 2

Pile 1 :

Muse of music and lyric poetry

Channelled messages: " let go of societal restraints " , " paint the canvas of your life , write a poem about a wall " , " often see yourself as an ancient women of honour " , " feed the doves "

She comes forth to tell you about your potential how you're a very meditative being , you are so good at chanelling and you should do it more often , ask her to be your guide and write down all that comes through to you flow in your thinking and the ideas that come forth

Lean more into the devotional aspect of your life , see everything with the vibration of love. The trees the humans the animals , devote more into self love and worship the gods you already do .

Learn the right way to connect to the moon , you're in your journey and this is one of the crucial times , you're almost at the end of a karmic cycle stay stiff and strong

Don't get into arguments , if you do have mishaps with someone , lean into releasing the anger through creating music or producing tunes .

Take practical approaches to life , if someone says no to you do the thing on your own , your guides are always taking care of you .

Pile 2 :

Muse of dance and choral poetry .

Channelled messages : " learn about the folk music and dances where you stay " , " when in the blues play the beats " , " give more to the society in forms of art " , " start the YouTube channel"

Your devotion towards your deity or your guides is really admirable and that is something that's one of your best qualities people online or in person admire your liking towards a deity you inspire them .

The calmness of mind that can be attained through yoga is something she wants you to do , imagine a blue beam of light when you meditate , she tells you to connect to your primordial life form your soul .

Know about the necessary sacrifices one has to do in their life , your sacrifices now will bring you rewards later , don't fall for instant gratification

Abundance is soon to come in your life but work on cultivating a sense of detachment towards money , obsession ruins everything.

There might me a rock bottom moment in your life soon , she asks you to remain in your path as a human and as a soul take the lessons and move on soon you will alchemize your pain into passion and glory . You transform everything you're a becon of light .

Pile 3 :

Muse of hymns and sacred poetry

Channelled messages : " Levitate " , " dream big " , " nice downtown tshirt " , " the life that one has is a sum and minus of that they do "

If you're interested in writing do it , there might be an opportunity approaching you soon in this sector , though there's a warning about a setback if you don't take the opportunity at the right time don't worry you'll do great believe in the power of wishes.

You might rekindle a childhood bond on the basis of liking of movies or songs .

Business sector might have new opportunities your fortune is about to change you're gonna have the power to do what you want in your life because you're the creator of it , your destiny is now on hold make the best use of free will.

Connect more to the oceans and moon , fireflies etc , be in nature more and stay grounded .

Honour your soul by serving the temple you're in your own body , take care of your body give it ample rest and food .

Pile 4 :

Muse of tragedy

Channelled messages : " Dwelling on past has no rewards " , " crazy is as good as the sane" , " time flowes and glows and you grow "

Don't choose a hard life away from your desires because you're scared of disappointing people your path is enlightened more as you connect more to yourself .

Give into dark feminine energy and live in your truth , if you remain often confused or scared work on your root chakra .

Connect more to your guides through paintings and leave offerings of metal , feathers , corn etc

It's time to finally shine you're going from the hermit to an influencer you're gonna be famous it might start small but it will build up .

Keep away from external influences that stop your growth drop bad friends and family .

Pile 5 :

Muse of love poetry

Channelled messages: eat healthy and enriching foods , read about the love you already behold , the depths of see are beautiful and so is your heart of depth.

Abundance in the sector of love is coming soon you're gonna make the haters jealous , might even win a pagent or competition.

You might have felt Beauty is your curse but life's gonna show you how it's not you're gonna be so hight so uplifted I see you shining like a star

One has to prepare for glory start by saying affirmations and working on your third eye and root chakra .

Read more about lovers from mythology like Persephone Hades , Aphrodite ares , Radha Krishna etc

The boons served by the goddess are yours to keep and no one can question that , you're being divinely blessed and you'll be happy and dancing soon .

Pile 6 :

Muse of comedy and Idyllic poetry

Chanelled messages: Search for the small joys, poppies , these boots are meant for walking , spring equinox fairy

There's a confirmation in case you wanna go for the acting sector , this sector will require a lot of hardwork .

There's also a warning regarding someone in your job your boss or your guru they might take credit for some assignment you did beware and if possible say no because that thing might get your superior a promotion

You are to search bliss in satisfaction about what you already have the moon is to be admired by you the power to be soked it , are you ready for the full moon .

You're intelligent and people really admire you for that , gemini energy.

Move in your life in your true path of light don't be afraid or dim your light , your aura might have hints of white colour .

Pile 7:

Muse of epic poetry

Chanelled messages: Blow the bubbles up , get into kitchen witchery, Artemis , cry me a river

Don't give people the benefit of the doubt if you don't like someone let them go .

Fame is eminent in your energy, life coaches might help you , your aunt is giving you good guidence follow her .

Do your school projects and specially eat tangerine and other fruits that make you feel happy

Serve the world and create peace each small step is a long one in the collective , small things create big impact do your part and be sure of the effects .

Moon water energy and full moon is great for you to invite luxuries in your life , ground your root chakra and connect to your third eye your ancestors will be sending you messages.

Pile 8 :

Muse of astronomy

Chanelled messages: Fly me to the moon , peals and sandbox , honesty is the best policy , go go cheerleader

The first message for you is to balance all your chakras it's crazy my oracle deck pulled all chakra cards omg I feel like there soon will be a kundalini awakening for you

You're almost in your last stage of awakening get into the cosmic dance of life your life is about to change , abundance is coming

Hard message to get through but someone in your relationship might be cheating or there might be someone who has an eye on your partner and might try to frame them . Only for some people

Listen to your higher self write a letter to them

Your path from now on is of the hermit it might be lonely but it's worth it discoveries are on your way in fields of history, psychology, quantum mechanics etc.

Pile 9 :

Muse of history

Chanelled messages: 13 missed calls , glow up is loading , search in the Egyptian archives , glow and peach coloured cheeks

The number six is significant, also specifically for someone there's this person who is delaying your glow up by doing some nasty as spell , might be a close friend

You are ignoring some signs from the universe , they're coming again and again and you're ignoring it look into it closely , you're elevating in your consciousness.

Your energy levels are high and you're matching ahead in your journey setbacks are never the end the sheer power of desire iss enough to keep going .

You're slowly climbing the stairs of life to become confident and assertive you might even call upon a partner soon who is very sure about themselves.

You should plant more trees and learn about them about their origination etc , i specifically get about Tulsi and the lore behind it . Some others would be eucalyptus, basil and marigold.

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this

Have a great day/ night ♥️🌹

[morallyinept]

I don't rant very often - it's negative energy that I don't want or need in my life - but I feel that as a fan of Pedro Pascal, I'd like to take a moment to highlight what being a fan actually means.

As clearly, some people, some "fans", have demonstrated having a hard time grasping that concept...

Being a fan of Pedro Pascal means I enjoy his career, his portfolio of works.

Sure, I enjoy his physical looks too; the man is certainly as handsome as they come, let's be real here. Yes, I find him attractive.

More importantly, I enjoy what Pedro stands for; his beliefs, his passions. He stands up for injustice, he is an LGBTQIA+ advocate and friend. He is a feminist. He is politcal. He's proud of his heritage.

Is Pedro perfect? Do I believe the sun shines out of his ass? No, he's human and has flaws and off days like the rest of us.

Ain't no-one that is perfect, babe. That's delusion talking if you truly believe that.

I enjoy that Pedro inspires me to be a better human being.

Being a true fan, to me, means only positive things.

It means respect.

It means respecting Pedro's boundaries, be that in person, or online.

It means respecting Pedro's privacy. He has the right, just like any one of us, to a personal life seperate from his career.

Pedro doesn't have to answer to you, me, or anyone else about his private life.

You are not entitled to him, or his time, just because he is a celebrity. (God, I fucking hate that word.) He does not owe you anything, and nor should he be expected to.

Pedro Pascal is a human being.

As a fan of Pedro, I will not write fanfic about him. Only his characters, because his characters are primarily the reason why I admire Pedro. His characters are how I discovered Pedro to begin with.

He can make me laugh, cry, fall in love, wince when he loses an arm, gasp when he double crosses the protagonist. I can survive a fungal apocalypse with his characters by my side.

That's an incredible testament to his talent as an actor that no matter what role he plays, I don't see Pedro on the screen. I only see his characters.

It's his job and he enjoys it. As a fan, I enjoy his craft.

If you do write about Pedro, that's up to you and I am not going to judge, but for me personally, it's a hard no. And I won't be reading any of it either, sorry.

As a fan of Pedro, I can draw the line between fantasy and reality. Meaning, I would never go out of my way to invite, devise, plant myself in deliberately, or exploit a situation where Pedro is in my personal space, or I in his.

Firstly, I'm a realist. And secondly if I ever met the guy, chances are I'd walk right past him and not even notice. (It's happened a lot, not with Pedro but with other actors etc... I live in the capital, there are a lot of them here.)

And thirdly, I am not a stalker.

I would never intentionally track him down in another country whilst he is working or vacationing, and then post about how slighted I am on IG that he told me to politely leave him alone because I was too persistent in getting too close. I would never relocate and uproot my life just to live near him in the hopes we bump into one another and fall desperately in love. 🙄

This is real life people, not a movie.

This kind of behaviour from Pedro's so-called fans is questionable, and frankly concerning to anyone with a sane mind.

I would also never bully or belittle anyone because their fan account is more popular than mine. I would never actively enforce or seek to enforce the deliberate closure of any fan accounts because I am petty or jealous.

Unfortunately this has happened and I am sorry to have heard about those who were affected by it - you did not deserve that.

Sadly, all these things have happened. For real. And it's utterly gross behaviour from, in most cases, fully grown women who are old enough to know better.

We are all here to enjoy and support Pedro, so why is that such a hard concept to grasp? Why does fandom have a toxic corner?

I'll tell you why.

Because thanks to social media, and platforms like Tumblr, it's all too easy to sit faceless behind a keyboard and do and say whatever you want, without any real consequence.

There are always a few bad eggs, in any fandom, who feel they are superior, that they know everything. That because they found a new image or a clip first that they are entitled to police everything. That they are entitled to dictate how fandom should be run.

I've got news for you; you're not.

Fandom is inclusive, sharing, a creative hub for ideas, inspiration. A place to forge friendships, relationships because you have common ground. The coming together of like-minded individuals to celebrate and endorse their admiration for their idol in a safe, non-threatening place.

A place for creativity to flow, for confidence in yourself to grow. To create original stories from canon, to create unique head canon because we don't want these lovable characters to die. To paint amazing pictures. To get excited over Pedro's new projects and discuss your favourites.

That's fandom. That's being a fan.

Being a fan doesn't mean creating, spreading, peddling or posting harmful material that 1) is frankly abhorrently disgusting and is not only insulting to Pedro, but also his family, his friends etc... and 2) could also be potentially damaging to his career.

I am referring to the vile deepfake of Pedro currently doing the rounds now on Tumblr because some idiot thought it was funny to clog up our timelines with it.

I don't want, or need, to see that, thanks.

And whoever created it originally should be fucking ashamed of themselves. I would wholly encourage you to report and block any accounts that have done this.

Imagine how you would feel if your face, your image was used and violated in that way.

You'd be outraged, right? Hurt? Sickened?

This kind of manipulation of AI is exactly what the WGA and SAG-AFTRA are concerned about and were/are striking for.

What Pedro is striking for, and then someone has the gall to pull this sickening stunt.

It's what artists are concerned about. What writers are concerned about. AI wasn't created to be abused in this way.

So, what makes you think that all this behaviour is acceptable to do to a man, who is nothing but generous and kind?

A man who would give you help, no questions asked, if he ran into you, in his own words:

And you have the audacity to call yourselves fans?

A man who, if he knew, what his "fans" do, I'm certain he would be absolutely disgusted and not condone any of it.

☝🏻Let me make it abundantly clear:

If you have looked for, deliberately searched for, posted, jerked off to, liked or shared that vile deepfake clip, video, pic - whatever the fuck it is - in any way then, YOU ARE NO FAN OF PEDRO PASCAL.

And I am certainly no fan of yours.

Do better. Don't be a dick.

[fatuismooches]

I was wondering for poly harbingers (except Pulcinella cuz he's like my father figure) what would it be like if like the reader fell first but obviously since everyone of them r harbingers they're terrible at feelings and reader is always trying to get them to love them but after a while they just give up and leave snezhanya and that's when the grovelling starts? Sorry u can ignore this if u want <3

—

(not really a request it's more brainrot but I still wanted to send this hdjshdb) Imagine being a new recruit to the Fatui and end up becoming all of the harbingers favorite,,, like you're just a new cicin mage or agent and they all dote on you and can and will spoil you rotten,,,I just love the harbingers being soft gidigsigdsgi <3

♡ 𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 ♡

synopsis: When you fell in love with the Harbingers, you already knew that they didn't do love, or feelings, or emotions. You knew that, but it still hurt when you kept trying your best to woo them, but to no avail. Thankfully, things turn around.

includes: all harbingers (except pulcinella) w/ gn! reader

notes: To both these anons, yes!! This is so cute! (I kinda combined two asks and sent them in as one myself. Also, this turned into my just spewing my thoughts around, so apologies if it's kinda messy.) I want them all to hug me. NOW!

Everyone joins the Fatui for different reasons. Some to become stronger, to get paid to support their families, some to faithfully serve the Tsaritsa, and some to climb the ranks. Your reason, however, had nothing to do with that. It might be stupid- no, actually it is dumb, but you joined simply because you thought all the Harbingers were handsome, gorgeous, beautiful, and everything else. (Minus Pulcinella, you daydreamed of him being your grandpa, telling you stories from long ago, and eating cookies you baked together.) Capitano? Even with the helmet, he still managed to woo you. La Signora? You admired her confidence and the long hair that flowed after her. Dottore? He’d probably kill you but you were determined. Arlecchino? Her permanent resting face was still attractive. You could go on about all the Harbingers… but the main point was that you made it your goal to gain all of their attention. (Your ambition probably rivaled Childe’s, and for the least sane reasons.)

You couldn’t bear the embarrassment of messing up in front of the Harbingers so you trained a long time before you joined the Fatui. You may not have a Vision, but you could still kick serious ass. You hoped that your skill would eventually catch the attention of at least one of the Harbingers. And what did you know - your hopes and efforts paid off. The day had come when all the new recruits would have their first training battles with each other. Everyone would be separated randomly into eleven groups with a Harbinger watching over each. Who would you get? You’d be fine with anyone really. You and the other recruits uniformly filed into the arena and there he was - Capitano. He was so well formed, dwarfing everyone else, and he was even more attractive up close, but also more intimidating up close. He didn’t notice you, of course, but nothing would stop you. You heard some relieved sighs from the others. Capitano was much more composed and didn’t have a bad temper like some of the other Harbingers. (We won’t mention names.)

Soon, you were paired with other random recruits to spar, and it was a cakewalk. You didn’t even need to use the wooden sword - you could easily trip them on their own feet by dodging their attacks. You could feel a lot of eyes on you due to all the wins you were effortlessly getting. Oh, and you could feel that especially intense gaze, belonging none other to the Harbinger. Oh, how giddy you were for him to talk to you. And he did! Not as quick as you hoped, but you were prepared to wait a long time. Since that day, the higher-ups ranking below the Harbingers saw you as someone reliable and assigned you more tasks than the average recruit, which led to your deeply desired meetings with the Harbingers.

The first Harbinger got to speak more than a couple of words first was Childe. He was always looking for a good fight, so when he heard of your abilities, he couldn’t help but seek you out and ask for a sparring match. You were ecstatic and accepted, and you lost, of course, but training with Childe had put you in a great mood. And furthermore, he complimented your abilities and urged you to keep training, so he could keep sparring with you. You could have cried tears of joy right there. Since then, the Eleventh Harbinger began to see you more and more.

As you climbed the ranks, people talked about you more and more. You didn’t care much for their attention, but you really hoped the Harbingers were hearing about you too. For some reason, you were assigned to a specific squad, and you were more running around helping each Harbinger’s division. (You didn’t complain though - you had the chance to familiarize yourself with each section.)

It had been a while since you joined, but you finally had it. You had the honor of delivering paperwork and reports directly to each Harbinger. You could finally see them up close. Scaramouche, who sneered and rolled his eyes at you for a while, but grew curious when you’d keep coming back with a smile on your face. Arlecchino who gave you the same cold look every day but was surprised to see you play with the orphans. Childe who waved you over and called you comrade. Capitano and Pierro who nodded at you politely and went back to their work. Dottore who did his usual crazy and maniacal things but grew interested when you weren’t that phased. Columbina who was usually asleep or singing to herself but began conversing with you after many meetings. La Signora who grew fond of you after all the other recruits pushed you to deliver any news to her because they were too scared. Pantalone who teases you with his velvety voice and kept offering you a job as his personal secretary. Sandrone who doesn’t say much but lets you look at her robots since you’re the only one who's not scared. And Pulcinella… the one who is being your father figure and dropping some fun facts about the other Harbingers without their knowledge.

You had worked your way up to the point that they could remember your name and face, which was amazing considering how many recruits there are. With this, you began to try and actually talk to them more. Pretty much all the recruits were terrified of saying anything more than “Yes, Lord Harbinger” to them so to hear you actually voice your thoughts was a surprise, but not an unpleasant one. If it were anyone else, they’d be punished by now, but you were different, for some reason. The more friendly ones would sometimes invite you to their office during their breaks. Another would forcibly drag you from whatever you were doing to follow him around (totally not Scara.) Some would lock you up in their labs with them and order you to help them with their experiments. And sometimes, you’d find gifts in your living quarters. Soon enough, every time you appeared, you were at the side of a Harbinger. The more you were in their presence, the more and more you loved them. You had garnered that all of them had some terrible backstory and all you really wanted to do was share your feelings and make them feel warm inside.

The only thing was, no matter how hard you tried to drop any hints, or get them to engage in conversations other than work, was fruitless. Even when you got promoted to Harbinger status, your main job was to assist others in their work. So you did, but along with basic things that they forgot to do. Simple meals, each catered to their liking, coffee or tea, made how they like it best, frequently sat on their desk, made by you. That huge stack of documents? Already signed off by you. Little trinkets you thought they’d like were given. But they still didn’t catch on to how much you liked them?! You were literally doing everything besides kissing them at this point. It was starting to give you a headache.

You kind of felt stupid and sad, to put this much time and effort into this plan, only for the rest of the Harbingers to treat you mostly as their colleague. But this was incredibly stupid in the first place so you couldn’t really blame anyone. You knew they were horrible with feelings, but… damn, it was really bad. And now you were a damn Harbinger so you couldn’t exactly leave the organization. Since you were a new Harbinger, you weren’t required to leave the nation for some time, but you needed some time alone, so you directly applied to the Tsaritsa to send you out to a foreign nation for some mission. Little did you know about the switch-up that was about to happen.

For once, the Harbingers were grateful for Scaramouche’s confrontational nature. After hearing news of your possible departure from Snezhnaya, all the Harbingers were suddenly wide awake and with the same question - Why are you leaving, and why do they feel so irritated at the loss of your presence? Thankfully, they could leave the first question up to the Sixth Harbinger while they listened on from far away.

A sudden call of your name and hard, impatient footsteps behind you stopped you in your tracks. Anyone in the Fatui could easily recognize those ones. You turned around and saw a very peeved Scaramouche. Before you could greet him, he crossed his arms and spoke.

“Why are you leaving?”

“What do you mean?”

He scowled, “Why are you leaving this nation? There is no reason for you to go.” You didn’t know the news would spread so fast, and that he of all people would be the first to say something.

“I’ve just decided I need more real experience to better complete my duties,” you lied. Hell, you’d stay here forever if you could but it just hurt to see the Harbinger’s faces every day and not have your relationships progress.

“What about your duties here? You’re supposed to help us.” To be honest, Scaramouche could care less about duties and whatnot, he just had this nagging, irritating feeling of loneliness that kept popping up when he thought of you leaving for months on end.

“Well, there’s a hundred other recruits you can ask for help. From what I can remember, last time you got mad at me because your coffee wasn’t bitter enough,” you frowned back. “Everyone’s survived without me before, I think you can survive without me again.” You didn’t mean to add that much sass but you just left before the situation escalated.

Scaramouche and the other hidden Harbingers watched you leave. They didn’t mean to come off that way… they just have shitty communication skills.

I have to throw this in but- Grandpa Pulcinella who scolds the hell out of the other Harbingers for their denseness and communication. Has to actually explain to them that you’re relatively normal compared to them, so you’re expecting normal interactions in return. And that they have to start doing better before you ditch their asses. So now, the Harbingers are very out of characteristically groveling to silently convince you to stay.

Scaramouche has to physically bite down on his tongue to prevent any accidental snarkiness from coming out. It’s not that he wants to be that mean, it’s just his natural reflex to say something like that after every sentence. Orders you to accompany him to places but he just walks around randomly while you ask where exactly you’re going. Allows himself to become softer in your presence because he doesn’t want to lose you. He has been betrayed enough times, he doesn’t want to see you go.

Capitano makes an effort to frequently invite you to his office so he can just listen to you talk. Also thanks you a lot for everything. He’s very unsure about how to treat you in the best way possible. So he just listens to you talk and secretly takes notes instead of doing paperwork. Also is scared to initiate any physical contact because he’s afraid of breaking you somehow, is jealous of the other Harbingers for this reason. Also opens doors for you, I just see him as a gentleman. Doesn’t know how to tell you not to leave him, so he just comments on how quiet his office will be without you.

La Signora who invites you to go shopping with you many times. Spoils you with the best clothing, cologne/perfume, hair products, and much more. She did have a previous lover so she at least knows about love, she was just hesitant and scared because of how her last relationship ended. But she’s the one whose not afraid to touch you - will curl a lock of hair of yours around her finger and hum, or place her hands on your shoulders, silently conveying that she’d rather have you here, safe in her arms, than outside.

Dottore doesn’t know how to show genuine affection like a regular person so his idea of making you stay is appointing you as his personal assistant who gets special access to his lab, notes, and answers to any questions you want. To an average person, it seems useless, but when the genius mad scientist bestows upon you this, you better at least show your thanks. (It’s so funny to see how he thinks he’s doing good, and you’re just like hmm yea such an interesting bloody fact!) Subtly drops the fact that he can’t do his experiments without your help anymore, which would lead to problems within the Fatui, so you simply must stay.

Childe continues to spar with you, only this time he physically shows you the right form, his strong arms positioned on you. Will painfully lament about how he’ll miss these “little sparring dates.” Cooks your favorite food and coughs about how you won’t get authentic Snezhnaya cuisine anywhere else. Also brings you to his family so Teucer and the other siblings can cry to you about how much they’ll miss you.

Arlecchino is still quiet and cold as usual but makes a much bigger effort to talk more than normal. She lets herself smile now when you’re around inside of restricting it. Is secretly scared of you dying in a foreign land. Also comments about how the kids always look forward to your storytelling and visit.

Sandrone doesn’t know what to tell you in person so she makes cute little robots of your favorite animals that deliver messages to you. She takes inspiration from the notes you leave her and other Harbingers - “Make sure to eat and drink some water <3” or “Please don’t stay up until three AM doing paperwork or experimenting” Sometimes, you write “And Dottore, I don’t want to be woken up by your maniacal laughter that early in the morning. Go to sleep, please. That includes all of you.” The most important note Sandrone sends is “Don’t go.”

Pantalone just spoils you endlessly. Gifts upon gifts upon an immense sum of Mora being deposited into your account. Your whole closet is full of clothes despite the only thing you wear is literally your Harbinger clothes and a big fluffy coat. The one who calls you into his office not even to do any work, but to just to flirt with you, show you around his huge mansion, get your opinions and interests so he knows what to buy for you later on. It’s awfully lonely around here when he doesn’t have anyone to spoil, he complains.

Pierro is the one whose old and wise, yet he still has problems dealing with these feelings he always keeps sealed you. He is the Harbinger who you probably see the least, yet you always make an effort to scurry up to him and inquire about his day, because he apparently always looks tired. Pierro doesn’t say much but enjoys these sparks of brightness into his dark life. Gives you advice about anything, your troubles may seem mundane compared to his but he wants you to be stress free. He doesn’t want to intrude on your Harbinger duties, but he really will miss you bouncing around headquarters.

Columbina takes you to visit the most beautiful but unknown places in Snezhnaya, and often falls asleep on you there (you can’t say no to her.) Hums that she’ll be sad to not have anyone as her personal pillow anymore.

You’re pretty much overwhelmed by all this positive attention - you finally did it! And you deliver the news they’ve all been anxiously awaiting: you won’t leave your snowy nation anymore. And that you also have something important to tell them.

At this point, all the Harbingers know that each other has taking a strong liking to you, and all of them are quite literally, ready to fight for your love. That is, until you explain how you love all of them and want to cherish all of them equally. None of them are quite pleased with the arrangement, but they do see how happy you are with each of them, so they won’t say anything. Some of the Harbingers probably grow a bit closer to each other, just by talking about you.

“You know, when we went to Liyue together, we took a lot of pictures together. I’ve even got one of them cuddling their pillow.”

Cue nine other heads snapping in the other direction.

“You brat, don’t hog it to yourself. Give it to me.”

“Indeed, I want a copy as well.”

“I do too, for research purposes.”

“Oh, they look so cute like that!”

After everything is established and such, I can see Scaramouche who bickers with the other Harbingers, especially the lower ranking ones over your time and attention. All of them are possessive but Scaramouche hates almost everyone and has no problem voicing his biting thoughts aloud, while other Harbingers prefer to be more professional and not cause a scene. Surprisingly enough, he gets along a little bit better with Childe (if you count calling him various curses and electrocuting him every five seconds better). Even still, Scara would much rather prefer to keep you to himself, and you do too unless you want him to be scowling at another Harbinger the whole time. And you often spend time with Childe alone too, just because he’s not very close with the others. He has beef with all the women Harbingers, and he’s actually a lot more… sane than the other males, or they’re too high ranking for him to talk to. If anything, he’d love to spend time with you and Capitano just so he can admire both of you and your strength. (It’s more of a pipe dream, but if you manage to make it happen, he’ll be ecstatic.) Hell, you might even be spending time with Childe and grandpa Pulcinella because he thinks of you as his kids, lol. He gives Childe great advice on how he wooed others back in the day. Also, Childe who is arguably the sanest and romantic and is actually knowledgable about this stuff helps the other Harbingers on how to treat you. (Is my bias showing? Sorry.)

Arlecchino and Columbina who like to spend time with you together. Columbina likes to use you two as a pillow as she falls asleep, while you tell both of them about your day. Both of them are the quiet types so they go quite splendidly together with you. La Signora and Sandrone also join sometimes for sleepovers and self-care days (I like to think all the female Harbingers are secretly close with each other and respect each other a bunch <3.) They all would pamper you, all different in the areas they excel in. Columbina and Signora take on your hair, Sandrone has her robots take care of your nails, and Arlecchino helps you with anything else really (she’s at a loss with this kind of stuff so the others teach her.) They’re probably the most harmonic group here, and they don’t mind sharing you, but they tend to scoff at the other men when they’re near you. Also expect lots and LOTS of kisses all over your body with them <3. They all got to destress with you after all these Harbinger duties. Oh, and also expect tea parties with them!

Dottore who also often spends time with you alone because the other harbingers don’t like him very much due to his… you know. If anything, Pantalone or Sandrone usually join in him spending time with you. The former isn’t too scared of Dottore because he provides funding, the latter respects Dottore for his robotic knowledge and tends to actually observe his experiments sometimes. Dottore loses patience with Pantalone more quickly, due to his charming and even flirtatious nature when he’s around you. Dotty likes Sandrone a bit more due to her more subdued and quiet nature. Dottore who will drone on about the most sciency things in order to get anyone else to leave so he can be alone with you.

Capitano and Pierro who like to share you too, are both big, tall, and initially awkward men. (I like to think both of them are on good terms with each other.) Neither of them are sure of how to treat sweet, little you. But they are both so infatuated with you that they just let you take the lead for now. The two of them are more on the quiet, gentle giant (and also very much overworked) so they enjoy the calm and peaceful activities. (I don’t know why, but I imagine picnics with the two of them, where Capitano is taking up half of the blanket and sitting with his legs to his chest.)

All of your lovers fight over who gets to take you with them on their mission outside Snezhnaya. (They’re coming with me to Inazuma… no, they should come to Liyue with me… actually, they’re staying in Snezhnaya with me.) Most of them are not very fond of each other, but they can come together just a bit, if it’s for you. Also, all the Harbingers wonder if they’re truly worthy of you. They have all this blood and chaos on their hands but you still allow them to hold you and touch you. None of them voice this out loud but they know every one of them thinks the same thing. (Extra - the Tsaritsa who is amused and curious at how you managed to get all her devoted Harbingers wrapped around your finger so quickly. Pulcinella who is initially shocked at the relationship… “youngsters these days” but grows to accept it. Fatui recruits who get whiplash from seeing their cold and stoic Harbingers become nicer in your presence.)

[deepouterspacecandy]

Ink and Paper Hearts

I wanted to write something for Valentine's Day, and wound up with over 8k words. Sheesh! Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thanks for being here! Be kind to yourself and others. 18+ only. Violence and sexual themes. Angst, fluff, etc.

Raised on a cattle ranch, you spent your early days on horseback tending to the farm and living off the land. When disaster left you orphaned, a ragtag group of survivors embraced you as one of their own. Over time, they had become your family, and together, you’d endure natural disasters, famine, and hordes of infected.

It only took one sweep of malevolent raiders to destroy your home and turn everything you’d ever known to dust. You escaped the attack within an inch of your life.

Isaac was the one who discovered you withering away in an old diner off the freeway, fending off the infected with nothing but your integrity and a baseball bat. His medical team, which accompanied him as they moved between compounds, took care of your recovery, and nursed you back to health.

The leader of the Washington Liberation Front admired any person who possessed the strength to fight and the compassion to care for animals simultaneously, and in exchange for a safe place to lay your head, you promised to do just that.

It was a relinquishment of power; you learned early on. Anything involving Isaac came at a cost. Your bond with him was duty-bound, but he offered you another chance at having a family and a purpose. After being all alone in that desolate place, you’d been more than willing to fall in line.

Still, you were a different person when you first arrived in Seattle.

Some would say naïve. You saw yourself as a practical optimist. Now, you’re not so sure.

It’s truly astonishing how a year of unrelenting conflicts with the Scars can diminish the brightness of your silver lining.

The ability to find distraction in your work is a double-edged sword.

A jack of all trades, you spend most of your time working with the four-legged soldiers of the WLF. You have extremely limited patience for the human variety, on both sides of the fence. You tolerate a handful of your comrades, but between assignments, you’re happiest with your nose in a book, savouring the quiet and escaping into distant realms.

The drive for escapism hasn’t been a difficult undertaking lately.

A group of thirty soldiers left the grounds on assignment last month, and only two returned.

It left the stadium halls quieter, heads hanging lower than what you’d ever witnessed. Interactions that would otherwise leave you with a sunny lilt, instead left you carrying a heaviness that you couldn’t quite shake.

Few civilians choose to dive into surface level banter like they used to and the collective fear and sadness shrouding the compound has kept it that way for some time.

It serves as a reminder that even with extensive training and the most advanced military equipment, tragedy can strike without discrimination.

Unchecked and alone, the infected will forever wander through the shadows, driven by an unending quest to find their next victim. Maybe the same idea is true for all adversaries.

Your primary objective is to ensure the community remains united and intact. If you manage to stay sane, that’s a plus.  

“How are you today, my little sunflower?” Manny asks, mischievously tugging your jacket.

“You better be talking to the dogs.”

“And if I’m not?” he asks, kneeling to offer unlimited ear scratches to the newest litter.

“Well, then I guess I’ll have to refer you to every other time you’ve ever asked,” you say, giving the bottom of his boot a kick. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“Yes, he does!”

A woman’s voice booms from the other side of the unit, and Manny forces a smile.

“The bane of my existence.”

You chuckle at his misery, knowing little about his relationship with Abby outside of the kinship they portray in combat and their supposed insufferable roommate arrangement. Something you’re only privy to after running into her after hours at the library as she was trying to catch some shuteye on the couch there.

“Will you quit harassing pretty girls and grab a damn dog already?”

As she approaches, tails of all shapes and sizes wag with incredible speed, exuding pure happiness. You wonder how much time she has spent in the kennels when you’re not around. Isaac has her spearheading every mission from here to Chicago, so you rarely see her. But the dogs never forget a kind face.

You exchange a few pleasantries with Abby before she drags her unenthusiastic partner to work. Manny’s womanizing ways at the stadium serve as a constant reminder of your boundaries in relationships.

You’re safer by yourself.

Abby does seem like a sweetheart, though.

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“We ship out tomorrow morning,” Abby says, handing you an empty canteen and a backpack, a clipboard braced to her side by her white knuckled grasp.

Her abrupt tone makes you jump when it normally wouldn’t. She’s struggling to keep her voice steady, but you suspect she has more important things to worry her mind about. 

“Right,” you nod. “Any idea how long?”

As she’s rushing to complete the next task, your query hits her at the worst possible second, adding to her already teetering stress load. You recognize it a moment too late and your teeth ache at the back of your jaw when she spins on her heel, pinning you with a glare.

“Do you expect a serious answer, or are you just trying to piss me off?”

“No, I—”

“Promises around here are as worthless as the ETA themselves, in case you haven’t noticed.”

Promises? What did that have to do with anything?

“I’m sorry, I swear I wasn’t trying to—”

“Anything else I can assist you with, soldier? Or can we finish wasting my time?” Abby bellows.

You knew it would be a mistake to leave the K9 unit, but circumstances with the Seraphites have forced your hand. They not only invaded WLF territory, causing destruction and casualties among your people, but they’ve also been blocking your teams from conducting supply runs, leading to a rather grim situation in the reserves.

“You don’t have to bite my head off,” you say, feeling the tension rise as you widen your stance against her more imposing one. “We’re all stuck in this mess.”

“Oh, really?” she seethes. “Good to know. I’ll be sure to hand you a shovel next time our people turn up in body bags. Give you a break from scooping dog crap to help us grownups with the actual shit.”

Abby is your superior and you know better than to test the hierarchy. The moment you denied Isaac’s advances, you tumbled from the top spot. But you’re no chump.

“What’s your problem?”

In a split second, Abby’s body looms over you as she detonates, “You’re my problem,” her breath hot against your face.

She flinches when you lose your balance and stumble backward, narrowly catching yourself. If her instinct was to rescue you, she restrained herself just in time, her hand frozen in mid-air. A twitch nags at the corners of her tired eyes.

“You’re no different from the rest,” you say, walking backward, chest heaving. “It’s all the fucking same.”

You’re down the hall and veiled by the four walls of your room before the opportunity to fumble your conversation further buries you in shame.

It’s going to be a long night.

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Manny runs through his roll call sheet twice, inspecting each soldier with every measure but a squat and cough. If he thought he’d catch you on a minor clothing infraction, hell, a mismatched pair of socks, he’s sadly mistaken. You wouldn’t give Abby the satisfaction and besides, you hadn’t slept a wink preparing for this assignment.

“Where’s Anderson?” Manny asks under his breath. The team surrounding him dip their heads and you try to avert your attention. Brush it off like you had been too busy inspecting your gear to overhear him.

“We’re not going blind, are we, Alvarez?” Abby says, shouldering through the group to drop her bag on the tailgate of the Humvee.

When her arm brushes yours, you recoil, your fist hitting your stomach with a muffled thud. Her head snaps in your direction, but her gaze is less volatile than before. You make a point not to place too much trust in that emotional assessment, finding solace in the familiar sensation of your twisting hands.

“Alright,” she shouts above the murmurs of your unit, the quiet chatter falling into silence. “You will work in pairs, at all times, even when we are in proximity to each other. This is unnegotiable, so don’t ask me if you have to bring a friend to the pisser. The answer is yes.”

The group’s attention is undeterred, even as a faint chuckle escapes them, their eroded black boots facing her commanding presence.

“If you hear something, say something,” she continues, her chin bowing slightly. “It may save a life.”

You swallow thickly and lean against the armed vehicle, its cold steel biting into your back. It’s possible that your sleepless night will affect your performance, but you decide not to emphasize it and hoist yourself upright before anyone notices.

“Our destination is approximately sixty miles from here, and we will cross into Scar territory temporarily, so we’ll need to be cautious. Eyes on rooftops, balconies, you know the drill.”

The group divides between the Humvee and a military truck, and it’s only after twenty minutes of driving that you realize Abby has chosen you as her combat partner for the time being. You feel the weight of her thigh against yours, as she adjusts her legs to accommodate her backpack, and you’re left pondering her decision.

There is a clear sense of trust between her and Manny, making him not only her closest friend, but a lifeline in warfare. Does she think you’re weak and in need of a stronger match? You gnaw on your bottom lip at the notion, focusing on the greenery flitting past your window.

“Come on, Anderson, your balls aren’t that big,” Manny teases, gesturing to her outstretched posture, particularly the way her legs take up enough room for two. You shift toward the door to free up some real estate between you and concentrate back on the road.

As their banter fades into background noise, your attention shifts to observing the deserted surroundings, vigilant for any indication of danger. Apart from a pair of rabbits hopping around, the streets are completely motionless.

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

The cavalry parks outside a derelict warehouse, its craggy roof adorned by a lush carpet of moss. Rust-bitten chain link fencing surrounds an expansive lot at the rear, cube vans with faded labels scattered throughout. It’s a tempting location to scavenge, but the prospect makes your stomach lurch.

The presence of tall grass and the lack of windows on each vehicle creates ample opportunity for trouble. A lurking enemy, dead or alive, is something you’d like to avoid. It’s possible that someone has already searched the vans, despite their undisturbed appearance.

“Let’s break this down into teams and tackle it all at once,” Abby announces, nodding at the parking lot and the adjoining building. “Six outside, inspecting the trucks, and six inside. We’ll scour the property first, and then we can set up for the night.”

“Wait,” you say.

She blows out a frustrated breath.

“This better be good.”

The temptation to tell her to fuck all the way off is intense.

“Maybe we should put a couple scouts up high, search the grounds together,” you say, pointing to the safest vantage points. “Eyes in the sky.”

“Any other suggestions?” she asks.

“I mean, no—but,” you begin.

Abby interrupts, holding her hand up. “Like I said. Six and six. We don’t need to be out here longer than necessary.”

“Fine.”

She guides you toward the building, her palm on your lower back, and you jerk away from her grasp. She may have the authority to call the shots, but you decide where you place your neck on the chopping block.

“I’m with them,” you say, trudging toward the trucks.

“Hey!” Abby says.

“Oh, Jesus Christ. What?”

She gives you a once over, gritting her teeth.

You throw your hands up and let them slap against your sides, waiting for her to hurl her discontent at your head, clearly eager to tear a strip off you in front of your squad. With a distant gaze, she fixates on the hollow space behind you before heading towards the warehouse.

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

It took several hours to secure the perimeter and set up camp inside.

Your heavy eyelids rejoice at the promise of rest. The team in charge of the mail trucks uncovered a mother lode of undelivered packages, chock full of useful supplies. It was almost as impressive as the haul the WLF brought back from the airport a few months back.

Within the building, soldiers set up their bedrolls among a labyrinth of cluttered offices. It’s quite comical to overhear the entertainment value of some dusty, redundant telephones and keyboards. You catch snippets of the amusing conversations while rearranging your own space, the sound of playful jabbering rising from the ashes, finally allowing you to release a deeply trapped breath.

Abby eases up on her protocols to make the rounds and ensure everyone is okay. You make use of the time alone to freshen up and explore, gathering candles from various boxes to arrange in your shared office, the wax and wicks a rare, comforting find.

Abby spots them as soon as she returns.

“Nighttime always feels darker away from home,” you explain, worried she might find them frivolous.

She doesn’t.

“Candles are good,” she says, picking one up to roll in her hands. She scrapes her thumbnail along the wax base and shifts on her feet. “I like them.”

“Alright,” you say, fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

You try to ignore the intensity of her gaze as it grazes over you, but beads of sweat build along your lower back. It might be time to crack a window. Occupying yourself with that activity, you grow increasingly frustrated as the most accessible ones refuse to budge.  

“Let me try,” she offers.

“I’ve got it, thanks.”

“Suit yourself,” she huffs, and you glimpse her crossing her arms over her broad chest.

You reckon Abby isn’t used to being turned down, and it sours your stomach a little to be the outlier.

By climbing the desk closest to the wall, you gain some leverage and drive your palms into the ridge of the window. You feel the sharp edge digging painfully into your flesh, your back muscles tightening to an impossible degree.

“For fuck’s sake,” you grunt, putting all your might into another attempt, the image of a bottle smashing through the pane something you’d seriously consider acting upon if you were alone.

“Stop being stubborn and let me help.”

“I don’t need your help,” you groan, the tickle of sweat now threatening to break into a full stream down your spine.

“Sure seems like you do,” she says, the arrogance in her tone combined with the weight of her gaze on your back, sending your lid rocking chaotically over a burgeoning boil.

You suck in a rigid breath and ignore her remark.

“Look, if you just—”

“Abby!” you say, jolted by your own shout.

Manny must overhear the commotion, slinking against the door frame to clear his throat. As they murmur behind you, you bow your head and brace your hand against the glass, waiting to be reprimanded.

When you twist your body to offer an apology, the room is empty.

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Even as the sun disappears below the horizon, the air in your office, as well as the rest of the building, becomes oppressively warm. You dig through your bag for a less cumbersome shirt but resort to stripping down to your sports bra and a pair of boxers. Abby hasn’t come knocking for a while, long enough for a clicker to obliterate you ten times over, but you temper your outrage.

Downstairs, there’s a treasure trove of unopened loot piled on racks, beckoning your interest. Abby abandoned her rule of two and frankly, you couldn’t care less.

Truthfully, she never wanders too far from her pack.

It’s possible she’s unaware of your whereabouts while you gather boxes from the metal racks downstairs in your underwear.

But it’s also possible she has eyes on you wherever you go.

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

“What’s all this?” Abby asks, lingering in the doorway.

Lost mail spills from the bins surrounding you. You’re captivated by the untold stories inside them. A peek into a world you’d never known.

“Letters, mostly,” you say.

Just inside the entryway, Abby slouches against the wall, absentmindedly playing with the fibers of the carpet using her socked feet.

“What kind?”

You’ve torn through dozens of envelopes, the contents of each one wildly different. It’s almost disturbing to imagine how many people had an entire universe they experienced through their eyes only.

You’ve already envisioned yourself journeying from one post office to another, gathering historical accounts and breathing new life into forgotten tales.

“I’m a bit lost with most of them,” you say, credit card debt and bank statements flying straight over your head. “Structures before the outbreak are a lot different from ours.”

Abby clicks her tongue, moving further into the room to sit across from you. She’s careful not to encroach on your space and a twinge of remorse worms into your belly. You offer an olive branch, handing her a photograph.

“But then there’s stuff like this,” you continue.

Abby’s eyes widen at the provocative image of a woman, her slender figure draped across a pristine silk sheet, the vibrant red of her lace panties and sharp stilettos creating a striking contrast. Attached to it is a note that reads:

When you’re alone, close your eyes, and I’ll be whispering your name.

Abby puffs a quiet laugh as a flush of pink creeps along the high points of her cheekbones.

“Who’s it addressed to?” she asks.

You search for the envelope among a sea of scribbled addresses and realize it’s a futile endeavour.

“I’m honestly not sure,” you admit. “I think I lost it.”

“Damn,” Abby smirks, running her thumb over the curled edges of the polaroid. “Lost in transit twice.”

You give a half shrug, noticing how enraptured she is with the picture. Her blonde lashes catch the candlelight at an angle that cast long shadows across her freckled skin.

“Manny would lose his mind,” Abby says, rolling her eyes. “He’s obsessed with shit like this—women in general, really. Horny bastard.”

You can feel the giggles bubbling up inside you, and you clamp your lips together to keep them from escaping. Abby Anderson, the most revered soldier of the Washington Liberation Front, sitting criss-cross applesauce talking smack about her best friend.

It is about the funniest thing you’ve seen in weeks.

“Have you—ever sent one?” you ask, treading dangerous waters and bracing yourself.

She blows out a ragged breath, pocketing the evidence.

You wonder if it’ll be a gift for Manny or something she keeps for herself. The notion causes vicious heat to rise across your forehead and down the bridge of your nose.

“Not a chance. It’s not really my thing.”

The mountain of mail between you becomes a welcomed distraction, and you make use of having a focal point to stare at.

When she tosses the question back your way, it throws your stuttering heart into a full gallop.

“Have you?” she whispers, leaning back to study you with a leg outstretched. The heel of her foot rocks to a slow tune only she can hear.

Her muscular arms bulge as she balances herself and you do your level best to pretend you don’t care. You expect her to wriggle uncomfortably or try to change the subject, but she doesn’t. Instead, she waits on you to bounce the ball she has rolled onto your court.

It’s you who can’t stop squirming.

“I haven’t found anyone worth the effort,” you say, and it feels a little embarrassing, maybe, but you figure honesty goes a lot further with Abby. “People suck.”

“Would you?” she asks. “If you found someone.”

Your racing heart leaves you dizzy.

It’s too goddamn hot in this office. You crane your neck to fire silent vitriolic arrows toward the stubborn windows, desperate for a fresh gust of air to grace the back of your damp shoulders. Abby stumbles to her feet, stepping over you to solve your problem once and for all.

With a soft click, the lock releases, and the window glides open, allowing the cool evening breeze to sweep through the space.

You squeeze your eyes shut and groan.

“I didn’t want to say anything,” Abby smirks, dropping back down to her spot on the floor. This time, she lies on her side, head propped up by her arm. “You almost had it.”

The crooked smile quirking up on her mouth hits you like a flashbang.

“I kind of hate you right now,” you say without venom. “But I should probably say thank you, huh?”

“Probably,” she grins, teeth raking slowly over the pout of her bottom lip.

She has freckles there too, and you’re suddenly envious of them.

“I won’t,” you blurt, tearing open another envelope. “Say thank you.”

“I wouldn’t either,” she laughs, and it’s a deep, warm cadence. A laugh meant only for your ears. She gestures to the letter in your hand. “What’s that one?”

The grin you’re desperately trying to hide causes your face to ache.

The brash woman you’re hardly accustomed to sharing a home with at the stadium is full of surprises, it seems. There’s a side to her that isn’t militant and melancholy, but rather the opposite.

She’s playful and witty. Her eyes, a staggering blue lake, are gentle and kind.

You could fall madly, painfully in love with a woman like Abby.

Abby herself, even. If she wasn’t an unstable box of dynamite.

You skim the handwritten letter with the tip of your finger, and another wash of warmth blooms inside you at the bulk of the sentiment.

“It’s a confession,” you explain, fixing your attention on the last paragraph. “He’s been in love with her for a long time, since they were kids.”

“Will you read it to me?”

Her gentle query sends a shiver of sunshine down your spine. Her eyelids are heavy like yours, and the shadows beneath hers speak volumes about the burden she carries. The weight of the world.

“Only if you promise to read the next one.”

“Deal,” she murmurs, sliding your bag over to use as a pillow. She snuggles into it and your whole body vibrates.

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

The trip home is lighter, despite the nearly crippling load. Clothing, toys, garden seeds, tools, home goods, toiletry items — the list is a mile long. You couldn’t take everything, but the mass of what hadn’t deteriorated or spoiled made it through the gates.

It’s a hopeful thing, not only to witness your group returning home unharmed, but with enough supplies to ease the strain taken from a new fruitful avenue.

The moment you and your squad walk into the chow hall together, you’re met with a chorus of cheers and applause. As Abby vanishes amidst the swarm of people, you exchange a few handshakes before seeking escape from the cacophony.

Your sleeping quarters are the chaotic aftermath of hurried packing and abandoned reading material, with your mattress being the only semblance of order in the disarray. It was Manny who taught you how to make your bed to military standards and perhaps his goal was to inspire more in you than routine, but either way, the habit stuck.

Gratitude simmers for it now more than ever, the crisp, clean sheets offering respite. Freshly showered and dead on your feet, you crawl into your cozy bed and drift away.

A thunderous crash shocks you awake.

You blink against the abyss, immediately comforted by the stadium lights leaking through your curtains. It drives other citizens insane, the absence of darkness, but you’re thankful for it.

Someone appears to be banging your door down.

“Cool it, already,” you say, scrambling for your cotton robe. The brutal assault on your sleep at this hour deserves to be outlawed—prohibited by the laws of the WLF. “Holy hell, are you trying to wake the whole neighbourhood?”

You tear open the door and any visceral anger coursing through you evaporates at the sight. Tall, fierce, and devastatingly gorgeous, all blended with the rich spice of amber liquor.

Loose tendrils of hair cascade along her shoulders and collarbone in protest of her braid.

“What are you doing here?”

“I have something for you. Can I come in?” Abby asks, and it’s not a question.

Before you can even request a moment to compose yourself, she unceremoniously dumps a heavy grey bin on your living room floor, adding to the chaos, before collapsing onto your couch.

“What’s going on, Abby?”

She may be a delightful, luminous drink of water when she wants to be. But damn, can she ever snore the walls down in record time.

You plop yourself onto the bin beside her and try to make sense of her unexpected visit. Should you venture down the hall to wake her roommate? There’s likely a sock hanging from the doorknob by now, but it’s an option.

“Anderson?”

The sound of your hands drumming on the sides of the plastic container fills the room, while you contemplate the amount of bourbon your crew has consumed from lunchtime until now. An indulgence that landed on your doorstep all the same.

When Abby whimpers and curls in on herself, you resolve to drape her in your heaviest blanket, hoping to help her tackle the unsteady beats of her sleep cycle and a looming hangover. She bundles the fabric in her fists and clenches it underneath her chin.

Captivated by her klutzy aura, you nearly trip on the forgotten bin.

The lid doesn’t want to come apart from its secured spot and you have the presence of mind to check for a locking device, just to be sure. There isn’t one, of course, but you’ll never let yourself live down the office window debacle.

It’s going to require elbow grease and a hefty tug. You hiss as it separates in several loud pops. Luckily, the noise only costs the weary girl on your couch a flinch or two.

Letters fill it to the brim, and you’re enthralled by Abby’s decision to bring them back with her. Your instinct is to open each one, but it doesn’t feel right without her there to chirp commentary at you.

“I don’t get it,” you breathe in disbelief, expecting your words to meld with the shadows and disappear.

Her ghost-quiet voice turns the thermostat up a thousand degrees.

“I was mean,” she stammers. “You didn’t deserve it.”

It appears that you’re tapping into her guilt-ridden subconscious, which feels so delicate you consider shaking her awake. You doubt she’d want to lay it all bare.

Does she always talk in her sleep?

“No, it’s okay,” you say. “Water under the bridge.”

Your response seems to placate her overworked brain. You can relate, as your own tries to lure you back to the land of lonely slumber.

You notice her face doesn’t relax, even when her breathing slows, the lines in her forehead streaked with dirt. To never find peace, even during sleep, must be exhausting beyond what most can fathom. It seems cruel to disturb her, even if she’s restless. You settle for leaving a glass of water on the side table for her before settling in at the end of the couch. If she startles awake, you’d rather she doesn’t do it alone.

Cramped onto the only slice of cushion she hasn’t claimed, you let the commotion of the day pull you under.

As morning greets you, you find yourself back in your bed.

The familiar scent of Abby drenches your blanket, but she’s long gone.

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

It’s your first day off in months, but you check the work assignment list to confirm. On your way back from the bulletin board, the classrooms are abuzz with joyful energy. Children eagerly play with the toys and delve into the books your squad brought home, and it gives you a sense of belonging. A goal beyond surviving.

Until now, you have thought little about your life beyond protecting the community. It always made sense to put your neck on the line for the greater good. While casually strolling past the gym, not in search of a certain soldier, you can’t help but wonder if there might be other adventures awaiting you.

Abby’s breath tickles your ear, and you leap a mile out of your skin.

“Looking for me?”

“Son of a bitch,” you wheeze.

She doubles over with laughter, imitating the strangled noise you make when you’re caught off guard. She takes a minute to catch her breath before she gives you a generous shove.

“You’ve got quite a potty mouth,” she teases, wrinkling her nose impishly at a passing group of young ones. “There are little ears around here, you know.”

“Yeah, well, they probably know better than to sneak up on a person,” you say, finding Abby’s laughter rather infectious. You bite back a grin. “Who does that? Is an apocalypse not enough for you people?”

Abby breaks into another bout of giggles, seeming to enjoy your newfound passion for merging the old world with the new one.

“Is it our apocalypse though, if we were born into it?”

“Yes, Abby, it is,” you huff, eager for your heart rate to return to baseline. “We’re in an active apocalypse and you’re awful.”

As she leans against the large window you’d been peering through, the sounds of the gym fade into the background. She tilts her head at you, eyes sparkling with intrigue. Clad in workout gear that accentuates her sculpted body, she doesn’t appear sweaty.

You must’ve caught her on her way in.

“Are you busy later?”

“Not really,” you say, fidgeting with a frayed string on your sleeve. “Are you?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Okay,” you say, staring at a scuff on your sneaker before catching her gaze.

“Okay,” she mimics, directing her nose scrunch at you this time, turning your mouth dry. “Feel like being busy later?”

It’s not as if her tone is explicit or even her language, but this woman is a supernatural force. So, tingles rise into gooseflesh from your head to your toes, regardless.

“What do you have in mind?” you ask.

The roars of a lively group of soldiers reverberate through the gym, their spirited chants urging their champion to hurry her ass up. They beckon to her as if they are a part of the kindergarten cohort, causing both of you to snicker and shake your heads. One of them wolf-whistles, the rise and fall of the pitch echoing into the hallway. Abby wastes no time throwing up her middle finger in response.

“I can come by around seven. Does that work?” she asks, reaching for your wrist. She gives it a quick squeeze and slowly pulls away, her fingers sliding to the tip of your pinky.

Her simple touch is unexpected, and it electrifies you.

“Works for me.”

She beams, walking backwards through the gym doors, brows jumping at your frozen form.

You amuse her. This much is obvious.

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

A rhythmic tap grabs your attention, a stark difference from the first time Abby came knocking. But to keep with tradition, she doesn’t arrive empty-handed.

“You didn’t have to do this,” you say, gesturing to the dishes balanced precariously in her arms.

“I wanted to.”

She sets the meal fit for an army battalion down onto the counter and searches your kitchen cupboards for something to drink from.

With a single, forceful movement of her forearm, she clears space by shoving your knick-knacks aside to make room.

“Juice cool?”

The way she effortlessly makes herself at home in your space leaves you speechless. You nod.

“Good,” she says, a repentant grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Pretty sure I’m off booze for the rest of my life.”

With the same delicate touch she used to tidy your countertop, she pours the freshly squeezed liquid, causing both glasses to hover on the verge of spilling. Abby takes a step back to assess the situation before bending over the rims, producing the most obnoxious slurping noise. It nearly sends you into hysterics as she levels out both glasses.

She hands one to you with droplets of orange decorating her chin and the collar of her shirt.

“Thanks,” you chuckle. “Quality service right here. Plus, I love germs.”

Balancing the glass to the best of your ability in your right hand, you pull your sleeve over your left and use it to pat her face dry. Abby snorts, her normally lively body becoming static under your ministrations. She swallows heavily, and a calmness settles over you.

“I don’t have germs,” she pouts. Her eyes drop to your mouth for a split-second before her cheeks erupt in swaths of vibrant pink. “I swear.”

“You’re a mess,” you scoff, enamoured by this clumsy woman, blazing a path directly into the pit of your stomach. “Did you know that?”

As she nods, her broad shoulders relax, and her frenetic breathing begins to slow.

“Nobody else sees it,” she says, her words hanging heavy in the air.

The pressure of that emotional cargo would cause any person to buckle under the weight sometimes. It’s a strenuous life for everyone on base, but the expectations placed on her are especially burdensome.

“I see it.”

Your confession doesn’t offend her; instead, it seems to liberate her.

She sighs an exhale of relief, and it makes your heart squeeze.

“I can live with that,” she whispers.

The food was prepared with love as is anything set aside for Abby, and she tells you all about the cook who put it together. An original member of the Salt Lake crew, and a phenomenal chef, he got them through their bleakest days.

When the WLF opened their arms, he committed fully to helping Abby achieve her goals, working tirelessly to support her training and keep himself on the straight and narrow after their tragic end with the Fireflies.

She doesn’t go into detail about what happened, and your instinct is to let that be okay. The heart-wrenching rumours are more than enough to go on for now.

“He’s stoked for me to have a little downtime,” she says, waving her fork at the spread now spilling onto your coffee table across various plates. “Hence the whole smorgasbord situation. As soon as I told him—”

She pauses, letting out a little whimper of embarrassment, seeming to scold herself for being so open.

“Told him what?” you press, detecting a subtle grin playing at the edges of her eyes.

“He wanted to make an impression on my friend, I guess.”

Your neck tickles with heat and you attempt to ventilate by pulling the collar of your shirt away from your collarbone for a moment.

“The man can cook,” you say with your mouth full. It comes out funnier than you expected, muffled by chewing. “Sorry.”

“You’re quite a mess yourself,” she smirks, leaning to drape her arms along the back of your couch, scanning the state of your apartment. “Your poor books.”

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with my books!”

She hauls herself off the couch to make an example of you, crouching at a cluttered stack. So, an earthquake must’ve hit only your room—what of it?

“I mean, this is just sad.”

“We can’t all have bookshelves and organizational skills, Anderson.”

“Says who?” she chuckles, her attention diverted by a novel that has piqued her curiosity. “This isn’t a lack of skill, either. Where’s your discipline, girl?”

Maybe it’s crouched in front of you, a blonde bombshell waiting to go off and properly reduce you to human rubble.

“I’m plenty disciplined, thank you very much.”

“Yeah?” she says, tongue tucked behind her teeth in challenge.

The audacity, when you’re currently over the moon about this delicious meal, you’ll likely never get to enjoy twice.

“Yeah,” you retort, wiping your mouth with the back of your sleeve like a feral beast. You strip off your shirt and toss it into the abyss, grabbing a clean one from its home on a toppling lamp.

Her bright bursts of laughter make you giddy, a woman who never finds time to play, sitting on your carpet waiting for you to join her.

“Who even are you?” she asks, and it’s so gentle it stops you midway through redressing to ponder her question.

The cotton tank top falls past your hips and you smooth it out, sensitive to the wrinkles in a way you haven’t previously been.  

“It looks good,” Abby blurts, reading you like the sea of books strewn about. “You’re—good.”

There’s something about the fortitude of her honesty that helps you decipher between barbs and a genuine fondness for your idiosyncrasies.

Maybe she’s someone you can trust after all.

She shuffles across the floor to the bin filled with letters and lifts it above her head with ease.

“What on earth are you doing?”

As her brows jump mischievously, she dumps the skeletal remains of a past life onto your floor, filling the room with a waterfall of bones. It ignites a fierce desire to protect this girl—create a time capsule of this moment for the next generation to build upon.

A reminder that not all broken things are hopeless things.

“Well, now you’ve gone and ruined my tidy apartment.”

“My bad,” she giggles.

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

Each passing moment feels like tiny punctures in an hourglass, causing time to trickle away. You’re both aware of it, trying to stretch the night. Abby leaves for a spell to hunt down her chef, in pursuit of caffeine. She returns flushed and sleepy, the bitter aroma wafting through the door alongside her soothing presence.

Curiosity and exhaustion get the best of you, and you ask about her friend. His thoughts on your late-night rendezvous with history. She does a goofy impression that makes you want to wrap your arms around her, and you watch her in fascination like an old cowboy reel, projected onto your heart.

“He says you’re a bad influence.”

“Bullshit,” you snicker, tossing her another envelope.

“Okay, so he didn’t say that. But he did tell me to give him a heads up if I decide to run away with you.”

You try to push that thought aside.

“Really, now? And why does he think that’s in the cards?”

“He thinks you’re my dream girl.”

She speaks as if she’s describing weather patterns to you, and you’re bewildered. The blunt force of her words mixed with the softness of her tone leaves you shell-shocked. You search for a tether; silently categorize every reason it can’t be true.

“What did you tell him?” you ask, busying yourself with a letter you read while Abby was away.

A tale of woe between two quarrelling families. It reminds you of Romeo and Juliet, some less violent, modern-day version, and based on the contents of their struggle, you gather at least one of them was grateful for the pandemic.

“Do you really want to know?” she asks, pinning you with her gaze.

You nod, a buzz of energy flitting through you.

“Yes,” you say.

“I told him to go fuck himself.”

Cackles burst from your chest, finding her candour rather precious. Of course, Abby told the guy off. But she doesn’t look away after she tells you; doesn’t shrug or scoff. She studies your reaction and holds her breath until a tiny smile breaks her anxious expression.

You forget where you are in proximity to the earth for a second.

“I guess I’ll debrief you on that situation at a later date,” you say.

“I hope so.”

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

The sound of her steady breathing is peaceful as the light of early morning whispers through the fog. She idly sips at her coffee and takes her time, setting each letter into their respective piles. It’s engrained in her to keep things orderly, an obvious clash with your paper heap. Unlike you, she finds the government letters intriguing, even the boring ass mortgage and debt related ones, and reads them all thoroughly.

Your hand catches on an envelope shaped differently from the rest. Inside is a card, with a dozen raised hearts adorning the front in varying shades of red. When you flip it open, it reads:

With you by my side, every day feels like Valentine’s Day. Thank you for being my rock, my love, and my everything.

Your family never spoke of this while you were growing up.

“Valentine’s Day?” you yawn. “What’s that all about?”

You show her the card, and she rubs her eyes, nursing the tail end of her own yawn with the back of her hand.

“Give it here, woman.”

She looks it over to confirm her suspicions, and with a knowing smile, sits up straight. She taps the card against her knee.

“My dad told me about this.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, it’s um—it’s a tradition people celebrated near the end of winter. A day to do things for the ones you love, I guess.”

“Like a holiday or something?”

“Sort of,” Abby says, fumbling a bit with her own understanding of it. “Romantic stuff, mostly.”

She rubs her neck, mulling something over while you try to wrap your head around this new information. One day out of the year to do what exactly? Who was supposed to do the things—both people? Did the traditions start after breakfast or were you meant to wait until suppertime? Was it an endeavour meant to last the entire day?

“My dad didn’t really make time to celebrate it,” Abby continues. “He was always too busy at the hospital and then my mom—well, she worked there too, so.”

The veil of exhaustion lifts when you realize she’s peeling back a wound right before your eyes. You suck in a breath and hope she doesn’t mistake it for anything but your desire to let her speak. She drops the card on her lap and wrings her hands.

“They did these small things instead, you know? On regular days,” Abby explains. Her body droops as she seems to pick through her retention of their conversations.

“Like what?” you ask, your voice just a hair above a whisper.

“Like—okay. My dad loved to dance,” Abby says, leaning forward with a sad smile, the slouch of her shoulders regaining composure at the happier memory. “He was fucking terrible at it,” she puffs a laugh. “But he was a music buff and when he met my mom, he said it was the best excuse he could find to get close to her.”

You ache for her to have them here to tell the story, instead.

“So, they danced together a lot?”

“All the time, according to him,” Abby says, her face lighting up. “He told me that my mom was super shy, so she’d always give him hell about it. But he’d ask her to dance pretty much anywhere. Parking lots, gas stations, one time they danced in the middle of the grocery store.”

You try to imagine what Abby’s mom looks like, but your mind can’t seem to conjure up anything beyond Abby’s own image, a showcase of strength and grit.

“Do you remember much about her?” you ask.

“Not really. She died when I was a baby,” Abby explains, adjusting the cuffs of her shirt. “She loved being pregnant with me, though, apparently.”

“Well, duh,” you murmur.

Abby crinkles her nose at you and bites the edge of her smile.

“Dad said her stomach got so big that he started dancing with her from behind. She’d rest her head on his shoulder, and they’d just sway back and forth.”

“I love that,” you say.

“Yeah,” she murmurs, fondness heavy on her breath.

Abby’s speech becomes slurred as the birds on your balcony greet the dawn.

“Every time they danced, the scent of her reminded him of a cabin in the woods, surrounded by these giant pine trees he used to pass on his way to work. He’d dream up this elaborate plan for them to quit their careers and live off-grid. I think he promised it to her about a thousand times.”

“That sounds kind of amazing, actually.”

“Yeah,” she says, tapping her nose with the Valentine’s card, her sleepy gaze drifting to yours. “He was a sap.”

She finishes with the most outrageously loud, cavernous yawn and you’re too tired to do much more than giggle at her larger-than-life spirit.

“You can crash on my couch again, if you want,” you offer.

She wobbles to her feet, reaching for your hand to help pull you up.

“I’m on assignment in a couple of hours anyway,” she says, supporting your elbows while you try not to slip on the paper graveyard below. “I’ll be MIA for a while, but let’s meet up when I’m back, if you’re up for it.”

“Totally.”

“Cool,” she whispers, her fingers tracing patterns on the tips of yours before reluctantly letting go.

As she turns to walk away, her steps falter, and she abruptly spins around to face you.

“Can I hug you goodbye?” she asks.

“Of course.”

Before you can blink, Abby’s arms wrap around you, and you’re a puzzle piece, snug in her embrace. She melts you from the inside out, the comforting rhythm of her heartbeat thrumming against your body. The heat of her chest against your cheek lifts blissful sleepiness from the edges of your resolve and a part of you wants to ask her to stay.

As she gently moves to cup your head and support the back of your neck with her warm hands, you instinctively wrap your arms around her waist, afraid she might drift away.

“I feel so safe right now,” you whisper into her shoulder, and she nuzzles closer, squeezing you tight. Your feet are nearly off the ground before she relaxes her grip.

“That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

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

Two weeks have passed since your visit with Abby and it’s hard to think about much else. It’s a pleasant distraction, even when the memory of her makes your insides flutter as if she tipped a bucket of butterflies between your ribs and set them free.

An unusually large number of soldiers from different stations have packed the grounds, and you’re grateful to have a unique job to keep you relatively separate from the chaos.

Dogs are coming home, but not all of them, and it shatters your heart to toss out their registration papers. You understand the nature of your contribution to this war machine, but it never gets easier. If you could, you’d gather up all the puppies and take them to the same cabin in the woods Abby’s father always dreamed about. Let them bask in the warm sunlight and frolic together amidst a maze of towering trees.

It’s a lovely thought followed closely by the sobering reality before you.

“You’ve done well.”

You drop the leash you were holding, and it clatters on the concrete.

“Isaac. You scared me.”

If Abby is a rare sight at the stadium, Isaac is a ghost. You haven’t seen him in months. He has expanded the WLF across several locations along the west coast and the number is only growing. Reports of a nearby prison piquing his interest have been swirling for a while now.

You’re not sure where he rests his head at night, but it’s almost never here.

“It’s nice to see you too,” he says, inspecting the four-legged fleet without getting close enough to pet them. “I hear your training program is working wonders.”

“I try. They make it easy,” you say, noticing that many puppies have tucked their tails between their legs. “What brings you to the stadium?”

“I’m—restructuring,” he explains, his footsteps echoing as he paces the unit, meticulously inspecting the facility.

Your heart sinks.

“What does this have to do with me?”

He exaggerates a smile, and it sets you on edge.

“You always ask the right questions,” he drawls, heavy hands landing on your shoulders. “I respect that about you. There’s never any fat to trim, just straight to the point.”

It’s more than you can say about him, frankly.

“I suspect you’ve heard about the prison.”

“I have,” you say, bending to pick back up the leash. A narrow excuse to put space between the two of you.

Isaac is still standing uncomfortably close, so you wrap the nylon around your wrist as an act of self soothing.

“Well, it’s proving to be an integral training facility. It’s both secure and unaffected by the flooding, which has been my biggest obstacle up to this point.”

You’d never seen the inside of a prison before, but you’ve read about them. A cold cement cage without access to sunlight, its surface striped with iron. It offered zero curb appeal. You made it a priority to give your dogs a comfortable enclosure for that very reason.

“They need me here,” you say, desperate to get ahead of his plan. “This is where I’ll be most effective.”

“I disagree.”

Your arms tingle with an icy chill as he turns to walk in the opposite direction.

“You said I’ve done well here,” you call out.

“It’s true,” he says over his shoulder. “And your expertise will be crucial. Transport leaves at oh-six hundred.”

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

You should pack to leave, but you’re frozen.

Isaac isn’t one to sugarcoat things and for once, you wish he would’ve.

You curl up in a plastic chair on your balcony and take in the fields below. Neatly organized rows of vibrant crops bordered by fruit trees, bursting with hues of orange and red. Berries snaking through walls of trellis, sweet and ripe. People milling about with baskets of laundry and boxes of produce, keeping society peaceful.

“You should’ve married him,” Manny sighs, dropping beside you. His hand rests on your knee. “Are you okay?”

“No,” you admit, pressing your fingers to the bridge of your nose. “All these fresh faces, and I’m the only one leaving.”

Manny moves his hand to your arm, offering a kind squeeze.

“You are not the only one,” he says, handing you a clipboard.

It’s a short list of dogs you’ll be taking with you, and you’re caught between wanting to laugh at Manny’s ridiculous disposition or sob at your utter misfortune. You wish the dogs could stay behind. They love when the little ones throw the ball for them in the afternoon.

“I have a life here,” you say, and it’s a plea to the universe. “This is supposed to be my home.”

Manny offers you a freshly picked apple and you roll the waxy surface between your palms. The image of Abby’s face flashes in your mind. Maybe it’s silly to feel so much, but you can’t stop it. The weight of never seeing her again makes you nauseous.

“I’m fucked,” you groan.

He wraps an arm around your shoulder to pull you in.

“Keep your chin up, Hermosa. Something tells me you won’t be gone long.”

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

Hey you,

I’ve tried to write this about a dozen times, and I still don’t know where to start. Fuck it, right?

I barely know you and somehow you made me miss you so fucking much while I was away. When I got home and you weren’t there, it felt like someone shot me in the chest.

Manny brought me your bin of letters and I swear I cried for the first time in years.

How did you get under my skin so fast?

I hear you were sad when you left, and that breaks my heart. It kills me thinking of you being unhappy. I hate that you’re somewhere I know nothing about.

What is it like over there? Are you safe?

I check in on the kennels every day. You’re missed around here a lot.

Keep your head up for me. I’m going to make this right.

Please write me back,

A.A.

You’re busy fixing the fence with a skeleton crew when a delivery truck arrives, and someone throws a letter at you. The thrill of it causes your heart to pound in your throat, a rush of adrenaline washing over you. It takes every ounce of self control to keep from disappearing to read it somewhere private.

Trucks come and go regularly, as they divide resources between stations. Isaac seems to prioritize the prison, especially on the artillery front.

You finish reinforcing the fence and race to your cell to lose yourself in your first piece of mail.

You can’t wait to steal a pen to write her back.

Abby,

I read your letter every day.

Okay, maybe more like three times a day, but who’s counting? Seriously… this place has no concept of time and I’m pretty sure there isn’t a single clock to be found.

It makes me sad you were sad. I feel like we’re on a carousel of sadness! We should change that. (Have you seen a carousel before?)

The dogs aren’t doing too bad. They like the open fields here and they’re allowed to sleep in bed with these smelly ass soldiers, which I think is more for us than them, truly.

Thanks for checking in on my crew there. Means a lot.

My bed feels like a hard slab of steel because it is, but at least I don’t have to make it every day. Don’t tell Manny.

It’s nothing like the stadium here. We don’t have gardens and schools and we definitely don’t have a gym. I know, devastating! How will I ever beat you in an arm wrestle now?

The hot water is a work in progress, so I’m learning how to not die during cold showers. That’s also a work in progress, but I squeal less now. Which is something, right?

Try not to worry your beautiful head. I’m tough. I miss your face, though. There’s so much I want to ask you.

Please tell me something about you that nobody else knows. I promise I’m the best secret keeper, ever.

P.S.

If you find any letters from actual prisoners, be sure to fill me in. I feel like they’d have some great tips!

Yours truly,

Me

You hope she lights up as much as you did when her letter arrives. It’s all you can hope for, aside from her safety and possibly a warmer blanket.

To: My Favourite Inmate,

You sure know how to make a girl laugh.

It’s good you don’t have clocks. That way, you can’t obsess over how long you’ve been gone the way I do.

Shit, I should send Manny over there for one of those cold showers. I gave him that polaroid we found, and he hasn’t come up for air in weeks.

It helps a bit to know those pups are there to keep you warm at night. I hope I can be that for you soon. I considered writing another letter because I was afraid to say it, but I think I want you to know. You belong in my arms.

Something I haven’t told anyone before…

Sometimes I miss being a Firefly, especially since things around here are getting worse by the day—but sometimes I guess I don’t want to be anything.

Maybe I’d like to try being just Abby for a while, you know? I’ve never tried that before. What do you think that would look like? Would you want to be a part of it?

I wish you were here beside me.

I’ve made it my mission.

A.A.

P.S.

When you wrapped your arms around me, it felt like lightning.

[cupids-archives]

━━━━━━━━𖥔 how different lmk characters give you head 🪽 ៹ ࣪ 𖥔 ࣪ ━━━━━

featuring. Macaque, Sun Wukong, , Mk,

₊˚♱ ━━━ ₊˚♱ contains… cunniligus, edging, fingering.

━━━━━━━━ 𑄽𑄺 MACAQUE ઇ ࣭ ࣪ ֢

➵ starts off nice and slow, kissing up and down your thighs until your begging him to touch you.

➵ starts by kissing your clit, and using his fingers to go in between your folds. if you try to push him he’ll just go slower.

➵ your all but begging by the time he starts sucking on your clit, inserting a finger in and out of you until your back is arched against the bed.

➵ won’t hump the mattress but he might touch himself if his hands aren’t busy.

➵ loves it when you sit on his face, though he loves seeing your expressions, he loves when you hump desperately on him.

➵ when you cum, he’ll lick it all off and probably be too pent up now to stop.

━━━━━━━━ 𑄽𑄺 ━━━━━━━━

━━━━━ 𑄽𑄺 he starts to unbearably slow, his hands wrapped around your inner thighs. his tounge is wrapped around your clit, already swollen and red. tears swell in your eyes, trying to get the tiniest bit of pleasure out of his small menstruations. you tug at his hair, trying to pull him closer to your edged cunt. he obliges, sucking harder. bringing his hand down to your clit he rotates into rubbing your clit and playing in between your folds. “does that feel good, baby?” you can tell by his smile that he’s teasing you but every time he chuckles it sends vibrations into your poor pussy. tears start to run down your face as he inserts a finger, angling it directly into your sweet spot, making you arch your back and clench onto his finger, your moans getting louder the more fingers and pressure he adds. “you okay up there?” ━━━

━━━━━━━━ 𑄽𑄺 SUN WU KONG ઇ ࣭ ࣪ ֢

➵ can either go very slow or very fast, he keeps his teasing additute and personality though.

➵ if slow, he starts off just that. kissing your neck and rubbing your clit through your panties. muttering nasty and teasing words.

➵ if fast, he’ll move your legs over his shoulders and immediately put his tongue inside you. he’ll grip onto your thighs, and would speed up so your crying for him.

➵ will comment on how you taste in a teasing way, but when you cum he’ll lick it all up.

➵ either way he’ll tease you, but will be so fucking hard the entire time that if you were more sane, you could use that against him.

➵ he loves to finger you while tongue fucking you but after you’ve came, he’ll start to actually fuck you, loving the obscene noises your pussy makes as he thrusts into you.

━━━━━━━━ 𑄽𑄺 ━━━━━━━━

━━━━━ 𑄽𑄺 “aww what’s wrong baby too much?” his hand roughly rubs at your clit, speeding up and than going slow again, teasing you as you cry against him, humping and clenching at nothing. he takes two fingers and slowly enters you, your no doubt absolutely soaked, the mixture of his hands and him sucking on your neck than moving to your breasts. you moan out, entire body shaking as his fingers curl inside you. “fuck baby, you make me so hard” he moves his body down. going face to face with your pretty cunt. “you this wet for me?” he says teasingly, not giving you the chance to answer because he immediately goes puts his tongue inside, drinking up your fluids delightfully. his fingers go back to your clit as he takes his tongue out admiring your lustful expression, “I hope you know your taking me after this.” ━━━

━━━━━━━━ 𑄽𑄺 MONKIE KID ઇ ࣭ ࣪ ֢

➵ so cute while he eats you out, loves hearing your moans of pleasure and your soft voice giving him praises.

➵ at the pace you want him to be, but if you want him to go to slow, might cry and beg for you to let him eat your pussy,

➵ though if he gets to pent up, will start to go on his own pace which is usually medium - fast but will have you gripping the sheets under you.

➵ will be rutting against the mattress the whole time, he might even cum untouched if you sit on his face.

➵ gets pussy drunk very very fast, but will try to stay calm so he doesn’t leave bruises .

━━━━━━━━ 𑄽𑄺 ━━━━━━━━

━━━━━ 𑄽𑄺 his voice is muffled by your thighs, he manages to keep his eyes on you as he devours your pussy, he looks like he’s enjoying this more than you, jumping desperately at the mattress below. his face is absolutely buried in your pussy, his finger rubbing your clit and his tongue fucking into you. you ruffle his hair encouraging him to go faster in which he happily obliges, fucking your cunt with more vigor than before. “your doing so well for me love” his fingers grip your waist more, his body becoming more insatiable.

©cupids-archives . requests are open !!

[l1tw1ck]

Xiao on Dragonspine

Xiao chose the wrong day to visit Dragonspine with you

Bottom!FTM!Omega Xiao x Top!Masc!Alpha Reader

[Event] | AFAB Language Used

CW: Non-Con, Rut, Knotting, Nipple Play, Victim Blaming, Belly Bulge, Breeding, Choking, Squirting, Spanking

📝 W.C 896 | Reader Discretion is Advised

"Focus." Xiao snaps his fingers, his other hand on his waist and an annoyed expression on his face. "Don't get distracted."

You grunt in response, staring at Xiao's chest. His nipples are poking through the fabric of his sheer tank top, making you incredibly horny. It was about time for your rut to start and Xiao wasn't going to make it very easy to deal with.

He luckily doesn't notice your lustful stares, he's only upset with how spaced out you are.

"Xiao.." You mumble, spreading your pheromones unconsciously.

Xiao quickly reacts to them and starts to feel weaker. "Wh- what?" His voice is softer than normal.

You push him to the ground and pounce on top of him, breathing heavily. Xiao tries to push you off of him but to no avail.

"Get off!" He yells. "Why are you doing this?!"

You twist his nipples and make him whimper in pleasure. "You keep teasing me with these, showing off your tits like a fucking slut."

"I wa- wasn't~!" Xiao hits your arms desperately.

"You know exactly what you're doing, you're practically begging to be fucked with the way you're dressed out here. Just a tank top and nothing underneath so you can show everyone your perky little tits." You rip his shirt apart. Xiao may not be affected by the cold, but his body is. His nipples are so hard, it's impossible not to want to touch them.

"No! That's not-" Xiao gets interrupted with a sharp slap to his chest, bringing out a debauched moan from him. His skin reddens from the hit.

You pull your pants down and reveal your hard-on, filling Xiao with even more fear. You rip his pants off then tear his underwear apart, completely exposing his cunt to the cold air. He's already wet from basking in your pheromones.

"Please- please don't!"

"Shut up." You push into him forcefully, stretching open his unwilling pussy.

He cries out in pain, writhing around and trying to get away. He screams your name in hopes of getting through to you and of course his efforts are useless.

"Fuck yes-" You groan, pushing into him. "So goddamn tight."

Xiao sobs, hating (loving) how uncomfortably large you are.

"Gonna knock you up, breed you till you can't fucking move." You lift his hips up, admiring the bump in his stomach.

Xiao looks at you in horror while his cunt clenches around you and drips more slick, his body's reaction contradicting his mind.

"You like that, huh? You wanna get stuffed full of cum, Xiao?." You grab his waist and fuck him at a slow but pleasurable pace. "It's all you're good for, a good little slut should lay down and take the cock that's given to them.”

Xiao whines, feeling unwanted enjoyment from it all.

"You're not even denying it." You laugh, slapping his chest again. "At least you know your place."

Xiao digs his nails into your arms, unsure of if he wants you to stop or go faster.

You suck on one of the red buds, occasionally biting it. Xiao squirms around, trying to run away from the pleasure. "It hurts!"

You pull your mouth off him. "Either be honest or shut the fuck up and take it." You grip his neck tightly.

Xiao rolls his eyes back and comes, squirting on your cock.

"You're a horrible liar. Look at you, coming so hard from being choked." You fuck him harder and faster, giving him zero time to process his orgasm.

He throws his head back and moans, his sore red tits bouncing with each thrust.

"It's good, isn't it, Xiao?"

He only moans in response, all his sane thoughts start to fuzz out and turn into impure thoughts of lust and the need to be bred.

"Dumb little slut." You slap his tits again, eliciting a whorish whine from the smaller male.

Xiao manages to say a few words despite his current state. "Breed me, ple- please~!"

You flip him over and force him on all floors. You slip back into him, his cunt basically molded to your shape, and return to your previously hard and merciless pace.

Xiao cries out in pleasure, gasping whenever you spank him, his ass turning red thanks to that.

“Do you know how whorish you look right now?” You laugh, spanking his ass again. “I wonder what Rex Lapis would think of you right now.”

Xiao rolls his eyes back, too focused on how good he feels to even remember who his Archon is. “Coming~!” He exclaims, squirting all over the ground.

You force him onto the ground, his sore and sensitive tits and clit coming into contact with the cold snow.

Xiao turns his head to the side, a fucked out look on his face as you resume your thrusts. He drools into the ground and moans like a stupid slut.

You lean into the back of his neck, grazing his skin with your teeth. You thrust into him a few times before stopping, knotting him while spilling your seed inside him and biting him hard enough to draw blood.

You calm down, finally getting a clear head. You look at his messed up, tear stained face in awe. You feel a little bit of guilt for doing this to him. "Xiao?"

He mumbles something, a stupid smile on his face. "mmm..so full..."

[brian-in-finance]

After the onslaught of criticism about her IFTA look, I thought of putting together some of Cait's quotes, a look into her character and what she's about.

“I respect and admire people who put work before fame, and life before work.”

"I think as women sometimes we can judge other women's journeys, actions a lot more harshly than we would if it was a man."

"I think there's something in the DNA of actors that we thrive on the lack of stability or regime. I relish the unpredictability of it in many ways."

The sexiest things about a man are, "Integrity, smarts and kindness".

"I just want to be happy in my life. I want to stay sane. I'm lucky that I have a job that I love. It's very important that your career can't be your only thing. So, I feel lucky that I've also found someone who makes me very happy. As long as I can keep those two things going well, then I'll be good."

"While 'Outlander' is a brilliant period show, Claire represents so many qualities of a 10th century modern-day woman: someone who is forging her own path, fighting for what she believes, and doing so with integrity."

"It's such a compliment when people say they can see 'thoughts' on your face. I started theater before modeling and the frustrated actress within me made work interesting by viewing a character or story in the head with interior monologues."

"Life is meant to be lived and not put on the back-burner for one day when you will have time. I love my job and I love work but it can’t be the be-all and end-all." 

“You have to fight to create the life that you want. I’ve been lucky and had a very varied and interesting career so far, but I’m always thinking about the next chapter.”

"I'm very young at heart but combined with a bit of an old soul. I have two sides of myself, one side is this cray-likes-to-party side, and then the other side likes-to-hibernate-and-keep-quiet-and-read. Those two sides constantly battle and that's why I'm crazy!"

"It was something I've been wanting for a while. There's sometimes fear about actors who become producers—that they're going to try to throw their weight around. For me, it's an expansion of growing within this industry. I like to problem solve. I like to look around at what every single person is doing, and [ask], how can we make things better?"

"Wrinkles equal time, equal life . . . trying to love them."

"SM brings out the very worst in people and makes us feel worse and worse about ourselves. So I'm trying to do, at least one day a week, hopefully 2 days a week, where I just step back and, I've been trying to do it recently and because I really felt like I needed to ... there's so much anger going on and there's so much "uhh" that it was making me feel just awful about everything."

"The modeling industry is completely what you make it. I've had a really great career but what some girls fail to understand is that it is a business like everything else. It's a job, not an opportunity for you and your friends to go away together a lot. You have to remember that the reason you're flying off to an exotic location is that you are there to deliver a job."

“The hardest part when I decided to move into acting was trusting I'd made the right decision.”

Thanks for the message, Anon. 😃 I’m happy to share the impressive list you’ve compiled of Caitríona’s quotes, and I hope people enjoy the walk down memory lane. As for the onslaught of criticism about her IFTA look…

One of the things you and I and everyone else are entitled to is an opinion. Some people liked her IFTA look, some did not. I sometimes post “fashion,” but have no expertise in that field, and I don’t necessarily like or dislike the garments or jewellery or footwear or accessories, or how they’re worn.

As for Standing Ground’s collections, unsupported breasts and nipples abound. I’d like to say it’s by design (wee pun), but I don’t know if it’s the designer’s intent in keeping with his natural scheme or if it’s the model’s choice to go braless. (If I were writing in DM, this is where I would say, “Blah blah blah.”)

What I do know, if I owned “the IFTA” dress and could wear it the way I chose, I would be wearing a bra. Everybody, every body, is different.

Most of the time, when I disagree with an opinion, I silently 🙄 or 🤦🏻‍♂️ or 🤯 or 🤬 or 😂, and scroll along my merry way. The odd time when I both 🤬 and chime in is when someone says it’s their opinion Caitríona is not married to Tony.

Literacy Ideas

Remember… opinion has caused more trouble on this little earth than plagues or earthquakes. — Voltaire

[schizoidcel]

Could you maybe write Pomni x reader? just like general fluff headcanons? 🫴🍪

# POMNI x READER ☆

I'm the ultimate Pomni writer at this point somebody get me to hopes peak so I can peg Jin

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

🤍 HEADCANONS !!

• warnings :: Not proofread

You either both are cringefails or you're a genderboss that she admires

Or you're more of a cringefail then her

That'd be kinda hard thou

Anyway.

Pomni did NOT expect that she would get close to someone in the digital world.

Let alone get a S/O

She's greatful ofcourse, but it seems kind of surreal to her at times

Like. Sometimes it makes Pomni question shit even more but sometimes it helps her stay sane

Pomni sometimes fidgets with whatever is on your avatar because of the fact that she's nervous most of the time

She dosen't really know what she's nervous about, but she still is

But being near you and touching you lightly helps her relax enough

I feel like she'd like. Sometimes grab you when she's nervous or scared

Like it dosen't matter what the situation is it could be harmless or literally life threatening she will just grab you.

She loves walking around with you.

It's implied she used to have an office job, so whether she chose that job because she hates walking or just was forced to take it even though she likes walking around dosen't really matter

As she gets more fond of it by just going everywhere with you

Not only does she just like it, but she also learns more about the digital world and you guys can look for "exits" on the side

She's more relaxed when you're near her or if she knows that you're there for her .

So she dosen't have as much breakdowns as much as she used to

She still gets them, ofcourse, everybody does and Pomni just happens to be more vulnerable to them

But she calms down far more quickly when it's you comforting her

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

ׂૢ་༘࿐ Thank you for reading! ♡

HOPE U LIKED IT LUV

[quinloki]

Positively Victorian

Fem Reader x Sabo

One-Shot - 2,450 words

CW: Language, sexual themes, light BDSM, sexual roleplay, rough oral sex, safe sane and consensual, 18+ only.

-:- Table of Consent -:-

Dating Sabo had been a lesson in whiplash. The bright smile and beautiful blue-eyed man had won your heart with clumsy courting, rumpled flowers, and a sense of fashion that was unique and exceptionally well-suited to him. Sometimes he would walk and talk like an aristocrat, and when you found out he did in fact come from money, you weren't surprised. Sometimes he would move with fury and almost animalistic instinct, and when you met his brothers, well, again you weren't surprised.

He could speak in poetry, and with enough alcohol he could also be convinced to belch his ABCs.

The more you got to know him, the more you loved him. The more you wanted him, and the more you wanted to sink deeper into him, and over the last couple of years you had gone from acquaintances, to friends, to lovers.

Now, here you were, sinking deeper into one another.

The tight dress with its hand-stitched flowers smelled lightly of lilac and dried fennel. It felt like cotton and shifted like silk, and the lacy details were thankfully against the dress and not your skin. It had taken nearly an hour to get into the monstrosity, and Sabo had needed a break afterward to clean up from the sweat he'd broken into after man-handling you into layer upon layer of under garments, corset, and skirts.

Though, half-way through getting some of the undergarments in place, you had both opted to skip them. So, you sat at the table, wet between your thighs for lack of anything else down there, and hoping you wouldn't accidentally ruin the dress from your own horniness while quietly sharing a meal with Sabo.

You had been learning etiquette specifically for this little session, the two of you exploring your need to be dominated, and Sabo's desire to turn his aristocratic knowledge into something positive for himself, but the few days of lecture prior to this hadn't been quite enough. Which, admittedly, had been kind of the point.

Finishing the first part of the meal, Sabo regards you with an even smile. He carefully trades the plates out, setting the new course before you before seating himself. Leaning back you can feel his eyes on you and the heat rising in your face.

After a moment of him not moving you look over and meet the unexpectedly devious smirk of his with a nervous smile. "Is there... an issue?" You ask uncertainly.

Sabo's hands are folded in his lap and the smile he gives you is cheerful. "You waited until I began to eat the last time, before you chose what cutlery to use." He points out, and you can feel your stomach drop a bit. "I'm simply waiting for you to pick up the correct items on your own, love."

Ah.

Looking down at the options before you, you take a moment to consider which ones are correct. You tried to remember the lessons for this, but there were ten pieces of cutlery in front of you, and you had barely paid any mind to how to set a place setting, never mind how to utilize one.

Sabo stood up and came over to you while you took time to ponder. Standing behind you his gloved hands slip over your bare shoulders, squeezing gently as he leans down a little. The action nearly shatters your brain, and certainly dashes away the memory of your lessons.

"Struggling a bit, are we?" His voice is low, polite, gentle, and deadly all at the same time. You can feel your skin prickle from it.

"Not at all," you reply, doing your best to sound confident. "I was simply taking a moment to admire the chef's hard work, is all." You assure him, with a smile and a turn of your shoulders, before reaching down and picking up what you hoped were the right items.

Sabo's fingers tense against your shoulders after you've made your choice and his voice holds you in place more than his hands.

"Oh dear, you've picked the wrong fork." He says, his hands sliding down your arms, his taller frame allowing him to cover your hands with his own as he leans against your back. "Whatever shall we do about your manners?"

"For-forgiveness is divine," you manage the words evenly, but you can already feel yourself falling into him.

"Are we forgiving your incorrect choice?" He muses, breath hot against your ear. "Or the insult of not having taken your teacher's lessons to heart?" His tongue is hot against the curve of your ear, but you can't shiver or cry out. To do so would be another breach of etiquette.

"... The choice." You say, your voice is steady but quiet, well aware of the fuel you have provided him. "We are forgiving the incorrect c-choice." Your words falter as he removes the cutlery from your hands and sets it on the table, his lips and teeth grazing the skin of your neck as he moves to do so.

"Then, as your teacher, I will take your punishment to heart, my love." He promises you, gently but firmly helping you stand.

"We... haven't finished eating, isn't it rude to leave now?" You're not escaping the inevitable, but it would be nice to have a meal beforehand.

"I rather think it'd be best for you to not have a full stomach for this." He assures you, as a new delicious shiver runs down your spine.

He moves you almost like he means to dance, fluidly waltzing lazily through the dining room, spinning you around like one of the dances he's taught you. The lack of music gives the whole experience a manic edge, but you let him lead you as best as you're able. After a few lazy movements, he pulls you in close, kissing you sweetly at first, and then deeply and roughly as your back is pressed against the wall.

Sabo had treated you like glass when you had first started going out, and it had taken some time for him to be assured that you weren't so fragile. You're mindful of the snakebite piercings as you return the passionate kiss, his hands holding your wrists against the wall as his tongue pushes deep into your mouth, stealing all manner of sense and air from you. The dizzying sensation causes you heart to race and you're panting heavily when he finally allows you to draw breath.

"You seem out of breath, my love," he muses, a manic edge in his voice as he pushes you down onto your knees. "It's good then, that your punishment requires you to kneel before me."

You reach to help Sabo undo his pants when he takes a step back from you. "Ah-ah-ah, hands in your lap. Just because you're on your knees for punishment, doesn't mean you get to sit like some commoner. Sit properly."

"Yes sir." You say as you straighten your back and place your hands in your lap.

"Good." The praise is simple, but you're happy to hear it. Sabo frees his cock from the confines of pants, gripping it with one gloved hand as he steps onto the excess of your skirts, pinning you to the floor as he draws closer. "Open your mouth and stick out your tongue."

You do as commanded, and look up at Sabo as he's looking down at you. He smiles approvingly as he begins to rub the tip along your tongue. The salty taste of precum mixes with your saliva as he wets his stiff flesh against your tongue before pushing in deeper.

"Keep looking at me as I ravage that pretty little mouth of yours." He commands. One hand is braced against the wall as his hips push his dick into your mouth. You flex your tongue against his shaft and catch the soft appreciative gasp.

You start to press your lips against him, ready and willing to provide all the pleasure you can, when a strong grip on your hair pulls your head back a little. There's a soft chuckle from him that nearly steals your breath.

"No, love. This isn't you pleasuring me, this is me punishing you." He smiles darkly as he pushes his cock deep down your throat. "Do try to maintain your etiquette during this."

You have to grip the fabric of your skirts to stop from reaching up and holding onto him as he begins to fuck your mouth as he pleases. You suck in shaky gulps of air when the opportunity presents itself, and do your best to be quiet. You try not to groan or gag audibly, though the rough pace of his cock down your throat has watered your eyes and run your makeup.

"That's a good girl, look at you, trying so hard." His voice is shaky, but the praise makes you want to try harder. "When your – hgnh! – throat twitches it's hard to, haah, keep my composure."

Your face was a mess as Sabo fucks your mouth. You can feel drool slipping along your chin and dripping onto your chest. Tears cut lines down your face and snot from gagging was making it harder to breathe. Just as you felt you were going to have to end things in order to avoid passing out he releases you, pulling himself out of your mouth and using his gloved hand to urge his cum onto your face, chest, and dress.

You move enough to clean your face so you can see and breath again, but you don't wipe away the semen he's covered you in. When you're done you put your hands back in your lap as Sabo takes a moment to catch his breath, and put his pants back in order.

He kneels down, legs on either side of yours, and slides a finger up the front of your neck, curling it a little as he tilts your chin up slightly. "You look so beautiful when I make a mess of you," he muses, leaning forward and licking some of the mess from your cheek. "I should think I'd like to do so more often." His gaze holds yours for a moment before he leans in and kisses you.

You touch his face gently, letting your fingers twist among the loose curls of his golden blonde hair. As he leans back you smile and kiss the tip of his nose. "As often as you like. The corset aside, this getup isn't too terribly uncomfortable."

"Mm, how easy was it to breathe?" He asks, looking over the mess of the rumpled dress with a few errant stains drying on it.

"Not bad. It just feels weird to be so inflexible."

Sabo smiles. "Perhaps next time I should endeavor to tighten it more thoroughly. We don't want anyone thinking you're attempting to 'bandy about naked', after all." The way he says the words makes it seem like he's quoting someone, and you imagine it's his mother, given the tone he takes.

You smirk, draping your arms over his shoulders. "Why, good gentleman Sabo, did you leave my corset loose to take advantage of me on this fine day?" You ask, in mock horror, practically giggling even as you make an exaggerated motion of nearly fainting.

"Oh, most assuredly miss," he replies as he begins to lay you flat on the floor. "But even better would be for you to lay back and allow me to acquaint myself with your skirts."

"With my skirts?" You start to ask as Sabo hands you his hat before lifting your skirts and disappearing under them. "Sabo what're you- Hhnngnhaahhh... hnnf...fuck." Before you can even catch up to his intentions his mouth is buried between your thighs.

His tongue and lips lap against and suck your sensitive clit and his fingers slip into your dripping cunt with ease. You had been soaking wet since the meal had begun, and you were gasping into Sabo's hat as he went to work, devouring you like a man starved for his favorite meal.

"S-Sabo! M-Mercy!" You cry as the pleasure coils in you faster than any time before. You're going to cum before you can even begin to beg for it. You don't know if he heard you from under the layers of skirts, but an extra finger pushes into you as he sucks on your clit with renewed vigor and the rush of pleasure tenses your body like you've been electrified.

Your hips buck as your back arches and your toes are curling so hard you can feel the muscles in your thighs clench, forcing Sabo to push your legs open as he helps you ride out the hard orgasm by abusing your tender clit. By the time you're coming down from the high your whole body is shaking and twitching from the violent rush of pleasure.

Sabo comes back up from under your skirts, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, a satisfied smile on his face as he lazily crawls on the floor until he's by your side, pulling you into his chest as he kisses the top of your head. "That was a beautiful little song," he hums, petting your hair and giving you a chance to catch your breath.

"You... say that... often." You pant, your head still swimming with pleasure.

"Mm, that's because you make the most beautiful sounds, little song bird." He assures you leaning down and kissing you quickly so you can continue to catch your breath. "And as beautiful as you sound, you are twice as lovely."

You put his hat over your face as you feel yourself go red. "... that's just cruel." You pout.

"Eh? Ehhh?! I – I meant it-!" You move the hat aside and pull him down into a kiss interrupting him as the concerned look on his face turns to one of surprise.

"Embarrassing me is cruel, Sabo." You clarify, giving him a kind smile. "I don't know what to do when you call me beautiful."

He smiles, and it's just as beautiful as you're sure he sees you. "Then, shall I tell you every day until you figure out what to do?"

"... It could take me a long time," you point out as he leans down and kisses you softly.

"Days?" He questions with another gentle kiss.

"More."

"Weeks?" he prompts, kissing you again.

"Far longer, dear Sabo."

"Be it months, or years, I shall stay by your side until you sort it out." He promises, kissing you yet again.

"And beyond that?"

"By then there'll be many more things for us to sort out, and so I shall stay beside you and puzzle this love for years."

partish 2ish?

[not-goldy]

No sane jimin stan would ever want the kinda of push jk is getting for jimin trust me. i would take face and all it’s struggling over the heavy push any day. No hate to jk though you do you boo. I hope jimin stays away from the west and it’s boring industry. He’s the only one giving me old bts vibes and id hate for him to lose that. i know his time is gonna come with or without bh push , he has insane talent and artistry, he always got the entire kpop community’s attention (it boy things) he gets everyone talking about him because he’s the main character. I’m not worried about jimin, he’s always been a winner so jm stans relax ok? We stan an intelligent man who knows what he’s doing and he’s coming for everyone’s necks very soon. At the end of the day talent wins and jm has no competition when it comes to that so what are yall worried about?

Ooooooooooohhhhhhhh yaaaaaaasssssssssssss

baaaabbbbbbbeeeeee!!!!!!!

TALK DIRTY TO ME!

YOU. THE SPOT ➡️🔛

HE KNOWS WHAT HE'S DOING!!!!!!!!

NO ONE UNDERSTANDS WHAT AN IDOL IS MORE THAN HIM.

HE IS SHOOTING FOR LONGEVITY IN WHATEVER NICHE HE CARVES FOR HIMSELF AND HE INTENDS TO DOMINATE IT COS NO ONE DOES IDOL BETTER THAN HIM. NOBODY.

HE VALUES AUTHENTICITY AND STAYING TRUE TO HIMSELF

HE HAS VISION AND A SENSE OF DIRECTION AND WHAT HE WANTS TO DO WITH HIS CAREER

HE IS CAREFUL AND SELECTIVE AND IS CONSCIOUSLY BUILDING HIS BRAND

HE TRULY KNOWS WHAT HE'S ALL ABOUT AND MY GAWD HE'S SO SEXY FOR THAT

BRILLIANT AMAZING SHOW STOPING NEVER THE SAME TOTALLY THE SAME

IF HE STARTS LEANING INTO HIS ART MY GAWD!

IF PARK JIMIN STARTS LEANING INTO HIS ARTISTIC STRENGTHS THE EARTH WILL QUAKE

WE ARE NOT READY

WE ARE NOT READY FOR A JIMIN BLACK SWAN ESQUE SOLO TRAJECTORY

SEE THE WAY YHE GROUND TREMBLED WHEN HE DROPPED SET ME FREE?????

DID YALL FEEL THAT OR WAS IT JUST ME????

YALL FINNA HOLD ON TO SOMETHING

I'm honestly happy with the trajectory of his career. No one understands or sees the potential he is harboring more than me.

I love how he is pacing himself. Taking his time to decide and define his niche. He knows what he wants the world to see him as and if you pay attention to what he says in his interviews and lives with us you can tell the thought that he puts into everything he does.

I'm sorry but Jimin will not rush into something he cannot commit to. Unlike some one like Jungkook- bless his heart- he is not impulsive at all. He's not gonna rush and set up an IG on a whim and delete it a few months later.

Jungkook can be so impulsive sometimes and he is a bit of a live in the moment kind of guy in my opinion and that allows him to seize the day, make hay while its shinning, carpe diem- the whole nine.

To be honest, sometimes I do wish Jimin would losen up a bit and make mistakes and correct them as he goes and be a bit impulsive too- not too much just a little. Teeny tiny little. And I know it's something he's been working at. He keeps talking about this and I'm proud of him for it.

Love Jungkook or hate him, you can't say he is not making the most out of his career even if things should magically fall into his laps. He's a seize the day kinda pal and I truly really admire that about him.

I mean it's right there on his sleeve tattoo 😆

Sometimes it's about working smart not just working hard and also seizing opportunities that come your way. You might never get the same opportunity twice.

I don't know but Jungkook and Jimin are similar yet also so different so when people compare them sometimes i wonder if they take all these differences in their characters into consideration- and I know I said we should leave him out of discussions about Jimin but my mind keeps drifting back and forth between them 😭😭😭😭😭😭

[scottishaccentsareawesome]

OK, so I’ve been thinking about this a lot....

And after their fight in the debriefing room, you don’t see Rooster and Hangman interact with each other until they’re on the tarmac right before the mission and Hangman says “You give ‘em hell.”

No more confrontations or apologies, but that doesn’t mean there wasn’t one.

Like, say...after Ice’s funeral  (that I’m only admitting happened for the sake of this post).

Rooster was at the funeral. Hangman was at the funeral (he was standing next to Bob in the lineup of Daggers in their uniforms, I just recently noticed that).

...And Hangman probably knew (twenty bucks says he heard it from Phoenix) that Rooster knew Ice.

So, after the funeral, maybe a bunch of the Navy personnel go from there to the Hard Deck to toast the Admiral.

And Hangman looks out the window and sees Rooster standing by himself on the beach.

And something inside Hangman is telling him that, no matter how they feel toward each other, Rooster shouldn’t be alone out there.

Because similar to when he’s in the air, he needs a wingman right now. A good wingman.

So Hangman goes down to the beach.

“...Penny for your thoughts, Bradshaw?” he says, as he reaches the bottom of the stairs, leading to the sand.

Rooster sighs, but keeps his eyes on the ocean in front of him.

“Leave me alone, Seresin, I’m not in the mood,” Rooster replies.

Hangman nods. “I can understand that. You knew Admiral Kazansky, right? You guys were close?”

Rooster swallows. “Yeah,” he says.

“Well, then, I’m sorry for your loss,” says Hangman “...I really am.”

Rooster looks back toward Hangman now, looking slightly surprised at his words.

“Uh...thanks,” he says.

Hangman nods, and sits down on a bench nearby.

Rooster hesitates for only a moment, then sits down next to him.

“How’s Maverick doin’?” Hangman asks. “He flew with Kazansky, right?”

Rooster nods. “Yeah, he was his wingman,”

Hangman actually cringes. “That’s a hell of a loss,” he says.

“Yeah, they were really close,” Rooster continues. “Mav always said that - “ he pauses “ - that after my dad died, the only people who could keep him sane were me, my mom and Ice.”

“...Sounds like they made a good team,” says Hangman.

“Yeah, they were a great team,” Rooster agrees. “I can only hope to have a wingman that good someday.”

Hangman bites his lip. “Still haven’t found a good one yet?” he asks.

Rooster glances at him for a second, then quickly looks back to the ocean. “Nobody that’s lasted very long.”

“Huh,” is Hangman’s only reply, as he processes this information.

“It’s just...that’s something pretty damn special, y’know?” says Rooster. “Having a good wingman, like Ice and Maverick were to each other. Somebody you can count on to always have your back, no matter what. In the air...even on the ground. I mean, your WSO’s got your back, obviously, but they can’t come to help you with extra firepower when you’re getting ambushed by three bogeys and you need backup, y’know?”

“Right.”

“And ice and Maverick, they could always depend on each other,” says Rooster. “...Hell, they were damn near everything to each other.”

Hangman quirks an eyebrow. “Just how close - “

“ - That’s classified,” says Rooster, with a small smirk.

Hangman now takes a moment to process this information. “Huh,” he says. “Well, I guess when you’re that close with somebody, it can be hard not to get...classified,” he says. “Getting to know somebody that well, becoming so dependent on that person...”

“...That’s why you always leave them hanging, isn’t it?” Rooster asks. “You don’t want to depend on anybody, don’t want anybody to know you that well.”

“Yeah, I guess I have a few trust issues,” says Hangman.

“It’s a wonder you made it this far in your career,” says Rooster.

Hangman scoffs. “You’re one to talk, given the trust issues you have.”

“I trust people.”

“You don’t trust yourself.”

Rooster stares at him for a moment, and blinks. “...Maybe you’re right,” he says. “I guess I could use a good wingman, myself.”

“Well, I can only help you if you can keep up with me,” says Hangman. “That way, you can help me out when I need it, too.”

Rooster actually manages a smile. “...You offering to be my wingman?”

Hangman smirks, and shrugs. “Well, when I’m declared Mission Leader I will definitely consider you,” he says.

Rooster rolls his eyes. “Well, if you’re chosen as Mission Leader - “

“ - When.”

“If,” Rooster repeats. “...and if you choose me as your wingman...I’ll have your back, I promise.”

Hangman looks over at him with a smile, and there’s something in his eyes that Rooster can’t quite read.

“...I’ll have yours, too.”

[qqueenofhades]

My partner and I have a good friend from uni who has become really involved in the Gaza war online. It’s quite impressive, the amount of research and time they’ve put into it. We haven’t talked about it a lot, mostly because we haven’t been talking as much lately with how busy things have been personally, but today they sent my partner and I, out of the blue, a tiktok video explaining the “no commitment movement” (and I can’t help but bristle a little to hear it called a movement) and a link to a website explaining how to register to vote (as if we have never been politically active and conscientious of that in all the years we’ve known each other). I’m a little frustrated, and alarmed, because I hadn’t realized how much they’ve taken to the online left’s discourse, but perhaps I should’ve seen it coming. That said, I know they mean well, and I know I can’t just change their mind. But I’m going to go back and review some of the asks that’ve come through your inbox recently just so that I’m ready in case things escalate in the group chat. Just wanted to share this with you to say thank you for keeping things sane over here in this small corner of the internet. I’ve pulled back from almost all social media in recent weeks because I’ve become more and more aware of how easily folks online can get a reaction out of anyone, and I’m weary of being caught in those emotional traps. Your insight always reminds me to slow down and think things through for more than just a few seconds before having a reaction. I think we can all agree that your work is admired and appreciated, Hilary!

Thank you, that means a lot to me. As it can often feel like draining the proverbial ocean with a straw to even remotely attempt to combat the misinformation, fear-mongering, and bad-faith attacks flying around every corner of the political internet right now, I'm glad to hear that you appreciate the work (of all kinds) that goes into those posts and you find them useful in having direct conversations with people who have been sucked down the propaganda rabbit hole in one way or another. After all, that is what I hope to do when I take the time to answer asks and construct arguments even outside of my very demanding full-time academic job, and why I continue to do it even when it can be tiring and taxing. I appreciate this kind message and I hope you're able to use whatever materials of mine that you can. :)

[perfectprofessorloverapricot]

Finding purpose | Male OC (or male reader)

Chap 2

Summary: In a world that is dying and there is no way of saving it, the humanity takes mater into their own hands. They flee from their home planet with hope of conquering another in order to survive. Among them, a couple of brothers with no idea what they’re doing.

Pairings: Jake sully x Oc (friendship), Tsu’tey x Oc (friendship), Neytiri x Oc (friendship). [No current love interest]

Warnings: Mention of violence, mentions of death, use of drugs or alcohol, bad ways of coping mechanisms and obscene language.

Note: - This is not a request and it’s the translation of the original story in wattpad. - My native language it’s not English - The Oc’s name is Eli Thompson.

Prev part - Masterlist - Next part

"Is this thing on?" Eli asked as he pushed some buttons on the camera. He realized that he was recording until he turned to see the screen next to him. "Oh yes it is."

Behind him were Norm, Max and Jake in their respective seats doing whatever on their computers. Jake, like him, was practicing on his first record.

"My name is Eli Thompson. After being asleep for 5 years and 9 months I am finally on the planet Pandora." The soldier started making a face trying to think of what he has to say. "My purpose is to take my brother's place and lead an avatar body that looks like one of the natives here... or something." He scratched his head in some confusion. "Aaaaaand… I think that’s it." He turned to see Norm and Max who were behind him. "Hey Norm. Is that all I have to say?"

The scientist turned when he heard his name. "Yeah, we just have to make sure we document everything we see and feel." Said the man.

Max poked his head from behind Norm's shoulder. "It's what will keep you sane for the next 6 years." He joked.

Eli gave him a small smile, shaking his head and turned to the camera. "Okay. Eli out."

He reached out and turned off the camera.

End of stream.

"Grace Agustin is a legend," Norm said with great admiration evident in his tone of voice. So much so that Eli couldn't help but roll his eyes at him. He had already heard many things about that woman and not many of them were good. "She's the head of the avatar program. She wrote a the book. I` mean, she literally wrote the book on Pandoran botany"

"Well, that's 'cause she likes plants better than people." Max said, backing up Norm's idea about the female scientist.

Jake looked at Eli and raised his eyebrows in a gesture that said "Won't they really shut up?" bringing a smile to his friend.

"Here she is, Cinderella back from the ball." Upon hearing the aforementioned, both soldiers turned to face the front, finally arriving in the presence of a woman with an aura that gave off arrogance.

'This will be good' Eli thought as he saw the doctor.

"Grace, I'd like you to meet Norm Spellman, Eli Thompson, and Jake Sully."

With very little interest in the newly arrived, except for one of them, the doctor turned around, removed her glasses and pulled her cigarette from between her lips, showing that he had her undivided attention.

"Norm, I hear good things about you. How is your na'vi?" she asked in a surprisingly soft tone.

Norm, clearly nervous, raised a hand in the form of support to search for the words he wanted to say. He was in front of his idol. "May everyone's mother… smile upon our first meeting."

Eli brought a hand to his forehead to massage between his brows. The idea of having to use that new language that his brother tried to stick on his head like a mantra wasn't very appealing. He could understand most of the words, so it wasn't hard to form an idea of what they were saying, but speaking it on his own was out of the question.

And it was worse when he saw how pleased the doctor was at having received the words of greeting.

"Not bad. You speak a bit formal."

Norm let out a nervous giggle, but went on with his talk with more confidence. "I studied five years, but there is much to learn."

"Um, Grace? This is Eli Thompson and Jake Sully." The smile on the woman's face disappeared as Max tried to redirect her attention to the soldiers.

"Ma'am." Jake reached out his hand to shake the doctor's. He was trying to remain respectful despite the scientist's clear distaste for having soldiers within 1km of her work area. Eli, on the other hand, stood idly behind Jake.

"Yeah yeah, I know who you are and I don't need you. I need your brothers" the cold words of the woman put a metaphorical wall between the soldiers and the scientist, causing the calm attitude of the soldiers to instantly change to a more hostile one with just an exchange of glances. "You know?" She asked Max, answering before he could. "The PhD who trained for three years for this mission?"

"They're dead. I know it's a big inconvinience for everyone" Jake's tone of voice was evidence enough that they were now on thin ice.

The woman, for a tiny moment, thought about giving them a chance. But her way of giving them that opportunity was nothing short of dismissive. "How much lab training have you had?" She ask abruptly.

"I dissected a frog once." Jake answered with complete confidence.

Eli snorted at the memory of the chaos of that day in class. "I blew mine up." The soldier laughed.

Grace gasped in shock and outrage. Intend to give them a try. "You see?..." she spat at poor Max. "You see? I mean, they're just pissing on us without even the courtesy of calling it rain. I''ll talk 'm going to Selfrigd." The woman turned around with every intention of hitting someone, genuinely panicking poor Max.

"No, Grace. I don't think that's a good idea."

"NO, MAN, THIS IS SUCH BULLSHIT!" She complained without stopping to pay attention to them. "I'm gonna kick his corporate butt."

Max stopped in his attempts to talk sense into her. Instead, he turned to the soldiers to give them one last piece of news before continuing with the job. The tour was over. "Here tomorrow, 0800... Try and use big words."

Eli and Jake raised their eyebrows in surprise and somewhat amused to see the scientist leave with the last word from him. They were both sure they wouldn't listen to him. They didn't plan on getting along with the woman, but they would try to make an effort not to make enemies with people they will see for 6 years in a row.