#it's. somehow very specifically that + fucking with their head. also being on a boat in the middle of the zee with no way out

[thegreatyin]

What is the Scoundrel thinking about as they go through in this ship? Did they get down to the lowest level yet.

...did they find the thing that is in the deck. Admist the wax?

it isn't thinking anything, really. it's just- moving. quickly. no it's not breathing frantically that's just how its chest works. no its hands aren't trembling they just happen to feel a bit chilly today. if they pick on the (now thoroughly blood-soaked) bandages on their arms, well, that's their business!! it doesn't mean they're scared. they're perfectly calm. look at them!!! they're smiling!!!!! they're having a Delightful time!!!!!!!!

now where was that pesky-

oh.

oh, they need to get the hell out of here.

[shxxxbi]

EVERYTHING THAT WASN'T INCLUDED IN LOVE SEA THE SERIES 🌊

Episode 3 (Chapters: 8 - 12)

<-prev next->

Writer's block

Tongrak is staring at his work, unable to write. The character in his novel is desperately in love with another man, willing to do anything to get that same love in return and yet Tongrak can't seem to proceed. The only thing he can think of are the words he had heard shortly before: "TongrakMahasamut". They had shaken him deeply and he couldn't help but consider the situation hilarious. Not only he thought the boy who had pronounced them was ridiculous, he also found himself ridiculous for writing a scene like that.

"Why would people be willing to do anything just to get love from one person?"

Vi's scandal

Vivie is a rising star, who has been the main actress of many successful dramas. Therefore, anything about her life is always gossiped about by the public, especially how she managed to act in so many works. For example, her first acting job was based on a story written by Tongrak, so the public wasted no time in speculating she had gotten the role thanks to their relationship. This time, the scandal is about her and her very famous co-star Frost.

Little trivia: Frost is Prapai's uncle, the actor Sky loves in "Love in the air". Also, he's the main character in the novel "Love Director", where he falls in love with an intern called Paint. Vi complains about the two men being head over heels in love, so much so they disappear every time they get a break on set.

Horny Mut🍆

In the novel, this scene takes place the night before, after Mahasamut warns Rak about the storm. He had just come home, wet from the rain after securing the equipment and the boats, when he gets this text. Mut is frustrated, constantly worried about the writer's feelings after their conversation on the boat, so he decides to take a shower to distract himself. As soon as cold water touches his body, however, all he can think of is Tongrak and realizes he is more affected by that man than he thought. He had slept with other guests in the past, but no one had left him with such a strong sexual desire. So much so that, over the past week since they met, Mut had to release himself several times because of the pretty man. He stroked himself harder and faster, as his mind got filled with images of soft cheeks he wanted to kiss again, a smooth neck he wanted to lick, and those sexy moans that still echoed in his ears.

"Mut, hurry up"

"Fuck me"

And he was done.

"He was addicted to Khun Tongrak"

I feel like giving someone a good smack to teach them a lesson

For three days Mahasamut had become addicted to his phone. Because for three days, the message he had received was always the same: "I'm busy, don't come". On the first day, he decided to let it slide. On the second day, he still somehow accepted that "his pretty one" could act this way. But on the third day he lost his patience. Because, contrary to the writer, he hadn't forgotten when Tongrak was scheduled to return to Bangkok. And he didn't like the thought of Tongrak going back home one bit.

A change of scenery

Mut lost his patience to the point he barged into Rak's room, saved his work, slammed his laptop shut and dragged him away like this. The two fight for a bit and, when Mahasamut finally convinces Tongrak to get on the bike, the older man can't resist giving him a whack on the back.

"Don't hit me, please"

"Why, does it hurt?"

"No, I'm worried you might hurt your hand"

Rak bites his lip so hard it hurt. He never thought Mahasamut would speak about him with so much concern.

The night sky🌌

Even though he liked watching the many stars scattered above, twinkling like diamonds, he liked the feeling of that warm body embracing him more. Specifically, he liked the scent that came from it: clean, mixed with the sea's fragrance. Rak loved perfumes and owned countless bottles of famous brands, but none of them made him feel as flushed or made his heart beat as fast as Mut's scent.

"It just so happens that I'm a lover boy"

(Let me start off by saying that this chapter is called Mr. Delulu. I wish I was joking)

Tongrak shivered at these words. He didn't like this feeling. It was something he had never known and never wanted to know. His instinct told him to flee. He'd never wanted love, never desired it. And yet a soft voice in his head asked "Really? Haven't you ever been envious of friends who were in love?"

He rejected this voice with a fact the brought him comfort. He had bought all of this with money. So he forced himself to believe that everything that had happened between them, everything that was happening right at that moment, was nothing more than a transaction between a seller and a buyer. No feelings involved. Nothing to expect at all.

"You want me to buy love?"

🌶️

"You can start working now"

They took a wild nc away from us, not gonna lie. One where Mut pushes Tongrak's shirt up to the writer's mouth and stuffes it with it to devour his chest. One where Rak begged to be licked, sucked and bitten hard. Where Tongrak gets fingered hard while he's on all fours on the sand, moaning heavily, and Mut kisses him hungrily after saying "I love hearing your voice, but not today". Tongrak panted heavily, rubbing the large bulge in the younger boy's pants, "Do it faster, take it out already". The two men crazy with desire for the other.

"If you fuck me well, next time I'll use my mouth"

"Even if I don't do well, you'd still want to give me head anyway"

They took away from us Mut fucking Rak while pressing down on the bulge of his dick on Rak's belly. Tongrak moaned so incessantly, Mahasamut had to push a finger in his mouth to shut him up. It sent the writer over the edge, collapsing on the sand as he released. But this didn't stop our island treasure, because he penetrated Rak deeply once more, confirming his belief: Tongrak liked to be filled continuously, even after climaxing. So they fucked for hours, Mut turning into a wild beast, to the point where Rak lost count of how many times he had been taken.

Sumchamgo love dive✨

Yes, they were actually naked here. Yes, they went to wash themselves from all the cum, the lube and the sand. It's not explicitly said, but I think the wording suggests they fucked again in the water🤸🏽‍♀️

A cuddly kitten

Tongrak invites Mut back to his room and then hides away in the bathroom. He blushes at the realization that, for the first time, he had invited a man to his room just to sleep. Better said, to cuddle. Something he only seeks from his close friends. But now he wanted it from Mut. As he walks out of the bathroom he meets the younger boy's eyes and notices he is staring at the multiple bites on his neck and chest.

"Does it hurt?"

"If I say it hurts, will you stop sucking and biting?"

"No, your skin is too soft. It makes me want to bite."

"Will you take me there?"

The real reason our pretty princess wants to go to Mut's house is pettiness. During his previous conversation with Palm, the little shit asked Rak "You've never been to his house? Oh, you two are so close. Thought you'd been there already". And that was it. Tongrak was dead set to go there. He tried to force himself not to care, but he couldn't fathom the thought they knew every mole on each other's bodies and yet he had never been to Mahasamut's house. He didn't understand the feeling of wanting to get to know someone better.

Little trivia pt.2: Mut's house is actually a two-storey house. On the ground floor there's the shop, where he offers diving tours to tourists. He co-owns it with his japanese friend Ken, who also regularly sends him big groups of clients. On the top floor there's his house. Tongrak describes it as "nothing he had ever seen before": it was a small room with a mattress, a tiny wardrobe, a bathroom, a broken fan and a storage cabinet.

🌶️🌶️🌶️

Let me tell you, this nc was WAY wilder in the novel. Even wilder than the one on the beach. Tongrak wants to "offer himself up to Mahasamut, and have the other man take even more". Even poor Mut was hesitant, worried his butt would still be sore and swollen from the night before, but the older man kept on insisting: "I'm ready. It'll be easy to enter". That poor storage cabinet got baptised. More than once. It saw Rak getting his ass licked, sucked and fingered. It saw Rak getting his front pushed against it and get fucked raw from behind, while crying from pleasure. And once he'd unleashed the wild beast, there was no stopping it. He climaxed so many times, he couldn't stand anymore, Mut had to scoop him up and cage him against the cabinet as he kept on fucking him. Thrust after thrust followed, Mut was so lost in his desire he couldn't stop. He kept on apologizing to Tongrak but the only thing the writer managed to say was "Kiss me, please give me a kiss".

Ask me if I can stay

His heart was beating so fast, he feared Mut might hear it. Yet, Tongrak didn't understand himself when he uttered that sentence. He should've been happy it was time to go back home, to see his friends again."So why? What was he hoping for?". Mut, on the other hand, felt disgusted at himself for even suggesting such a thing. No one had ever indulged him, not even his own parents, so why should Rak? But Tongrak did. He accepted. He even allowed himself to be embraced, despite the heat, the sweat and the one broken fan in the house. He layed there. Cuddled in Mut's arms.

I have a secret. Do you want to know what it is?

As they cuddled on the bed, the two men started sharing stories about their lives. Mut told Rak about his father, about how they fought and he had to leave home at barely 15 years old. His father never goes back on his word and his mother was never one to have a say, so his parents just acted as if they never had two sons. They focused all their love and attention on Mut's younger brother, who had always been very obedient to their father, and boasted to everyone about how he had gone to university on the mainland.

"Do you pity me?"

"What if I say I do?"

"It's good, pity me more. That way you'll grow fond of me".

In exchange, Rak confessed to Mut his biggest secret, the one only few people knew about: he couldn't write unless he had sex. Not just sex scenes, but sweet scenes and dating scenes in general. He had no concept of love, never experienced it and never understood it, so he considered sex the closest thing to it.

"That's also considered as love, isn't it?"

"So, does that mean you love me? Since you're making love to me"

"I don't know".

And Rak really didn't. He knew he had never submitted to anyone like this before. But was it love? He was definitely infatuated with Mut, that he knew. That was also the reason he wanted to stay on the island. He hoped that feeling would go away.

[quillandrapier]

You asked for it so here's the state of constant 'i don't actually want that' that i have been in for a while.

I like to stay at my family's cabin in the middle of the woods and play boardgames, learn new things about people and be dumb.

I don't like how i'm not precieved as i am even by the people who're supposed to know me. My brother said to me that i cry a lot. I did that only once more than a year ago because i was physically very hurt. So hurt that i had to go to sleep, i remember it was like i had been up for days. I knew i was seriously injured then because i had never gotten tired from an injury before, but nothing was bleeding so i was pretty sure things were okay. Still i can't stress enough how scary it was to finally close my eyes and fall asleep, still it was the only thing i could do, but that not so little voice in my head feared that if i closed my eyes i would not wake up anymore. Obviously i was mostly fine but still it stresses me to think about that.

Then that thing i hope will never repeat again because it was so fucking innoying and uncalled for and it managed to make me look like a fool too. Nothing, absolutely nothing happend to cause that reactions. Curse her.

And then there's this field i chose, i like the work of a mechanic, it's interesting and i want to know more about it but i have this creeping suspision that i might not be going good here. I don't think it the fault of the people here and we've got some really good equipment and a lot of workspace. The averege of days in a week where i can't even move to go in there is about 1 or 2, witch is just too many. It's nice when i do, not when i think of how lacking my sbilities are.

It would be a dream to work on a boat or a cruise liner or a cargo ship, but as it turns out, i would have needed to hsve gone to school for those, they also cost money and time. If i could get eccepted into somewhere where i could get the skills needed i would go. But now that's not much of sn option. I have told everyone 'things are going great' because what else could i do? They slready think i'm not suited to do this. If i can get out of this in two years i want to go be a sailor, if i can, if i get eccepted, if i even get out of this.

Why are things so complicated. I should have though of this before. Only a year ago i was happy i got eccepted to be a mecanic, now i just try and mostly fail to pretend like i know anything. Working has never, ever been a dream of mine and it still isn't.

And then some people think i can't handle socal situations because, an example they always use is, if i am at a store with someone, they are the one's who'll go and pay and be social, not me, i pack. Of cource i can handle it, over 90% of my trips to stores i do by myself and i handle all the interactions there just fine with no problems. They just weren't there to see it because that's the whole point! What they think of me are just tiny shrapnels of very specific situations from two years ago witch pain me as someone who can't do with people, can't do with stress, can't do with uncertanty and as someone who needs help. I do not. I have said this to them. I have proof. The proof is that i have been in these situations multiple times and have been absolutely fine. But they continue to talk about the things that aren't true anymore, they weren't even true then.

I am tired of everything, i just want to be comfortable, i don't want to think of this shit because it's useless and amounts to nothing.

I hope you'll have a nice restfull sleep

I understand greatly the idea of being perceived as someone you no longer are. I have a lot of trouble communicating with my mum because it feels like she still see me at my lowest and worst self, my teenaged self and its hurts and its frustrating and means every time she says a anything vaugley postive I feel its backhanded.

But somehow you have to pay it no mind. Almost as if "That's interesting you seem me like this but I don't think that's accurate." and move on. Live like it doesn't bother you and hope the maturity of it will change their opinions. It's not fair or right but it's all you can do. Other people don't like when people change, it means they have to change themeselves and how they interact with you. But at some point they won't be able to deny it anymore.

For your career thing. Maybe voice this to someone else around you, see if it can be made any easier? Again, more skills and stuff are transferable to other industries than you think and you don't have to be beholden to the person who made that decision a year ago. Take stock and fight for what's best for you despite what's hard or seems impossible.

I think you are so vaild in wanting to be comfortable but our society makes it so hard, maybe think about your image of comfortable and the steps you need to realistically achieve it?

I hope you sleep well too, and I hope you feel lighter too. If you want feel free to dm me. I know im not a therapist and I may not wholly understand but I relate a lot to this and I also wish you the best.

Ask me, I won't say no, how could I?

[risottoneroo]

I read your Mista tiddyfuck fic and oh my god my brain melted! May we ask the same for Jotaro?

a/n: absofuckinglutely. however this one did get away from me. wish i was sorry

WARNINGS: MINORS DNI, NSFW, titfucking, questionable dynamics, slight verbal degradation, teasing

You tied the strings of your bikini around your neck, looking up at yourself in the mirror. You were really glowing, you had to admit. Being on a vacation for your PhD research was doing you some good. You were a marine biology student, working on a thesis about sharks. Your school had paid for you to visit the Caribbean for the entire summer in order to research the specific kind of shark you’d focused on in their natural habitat.

It was truly eye opening. Blacktip reef sharks behaved very differently in the wild than they did in your research facilities up north, and it was really beefing up your thesis defense. You were excited to continue your research. All the swimming and time in the sun had toned your body and given you a soft glow that you were enjoying as well. You didn’t lack attention from men, but there was one you had your eye on. The unfortunate part was that he was your thesis advisor.

Jotaro Kujo was acclaimed in the marine biology world for his thesis on the Morioh starfish. He’d made many groundbreaking discoveries, and you were so excited to discover he was your advisor. But nobody had told you he was so hot. You’d developed a crush on him, which was only made worse by spending so much time together. You’d caught his eyes lingering on occasion, but had never been lucky enough to catch him alone for long. This trip would change that. It had been a week, and you were ready to make your move.

The first part of your strategy was the string bikini. You’d somehow finangled a day off, and also convinced Jotaro to come with you to free dive and drink on the boat provided by the university. Something convinced you he was no stranger to breaking the rules. All you needed was to push him a bit, and the bikini was the perfect move. It supported your breasts surprisingly well, and would hold together just enough that you could ask him to retie it often without having a true wardrobe malfunction. You looked at yourself in the mirror again and blew a kiss. Perfect.

You opened your bag and checked inside. Food for lunch and dinner, beer, and rum. Perfect. 

You trotted out of your hotel room and down the hall. Your hotel was a local business that survived on being quaint and clean. It even still had real room keys for everyone. You and Jotaro had exchanged the extra key, in case anyone needed something. You knocked twice on his door, then slid the key into the lock and opened the door. “Doctor Kujo, are you decent-?”

He was not. He was coming out of his bathroom in only a towel, and when he saw you, he froze. The towel slipped, and you caught a glimpse of black, wiry pubic hair surrounding his soft cock. You flushed red and turned away. “I’m so sorry!”

He sighed softly. “Y/N, we agreed that the keys were for emergencies. Not barging into my room because you’re impatient.”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. You were still turned away from him, staring back out at the hallway. He sighed again, and you could hear him getting frustrated. “Good fucking grief. Close the damn door and sit down. You’re already here.”

You nodded and closed the door. You turned back towards him. He’d picked up the towel, but still wasn’t covering himself. He turned towards his dresser, offering a tempting glance of his soft cock from the side. His endowment was impressive, even flaccid, hanging heavily between his legs. Your mouth watered and you looked away. He snapped his fingers. “Hey. Y/N. Sit down. You’re ready to go, so it looks like you’ll have to wait.”

You cleared your throat and looked back at him. “I shouldn’t stay if you’re-”

He tilted his head, a glint in his eye. “Naked? Like you haven’t thought about it before. Sit on the bed until I’m ready.”

You sat. 

He pulled out a tight “jammer style” suit, sliding it up his muscular legs and over his cock. It clung to his body perfectly, cupping his bulge. You swallowed hard and looked away. Watching him was turning you on, and you shifted a little bit. Why was he showing off? 

Jotaro’s soft chuckle caught your attention, and when you looked at him, that same glint was in his eyes. “You thought you had me by the balls, didn’t you? Thought I didn’t know why you were asking me to go free diving and drinking? I wasn’t born yesterday.”

You opened your mouth, and he cut you off. “I was married, but I’m sure you know that. And I’m sure all of you coeds jump at that past tense, too.”

He approached you slowly, stretching his arms over his head. He gripped your jaw in his hand. “Nothing to say now, huh?”

You blinked. “Doctor Kujo, I’m sure I don’t know-”

He chuckled and let you go. “Don’t know what I’m talking about? That’s funny. I’ll play your game. You’re interesting, and I enjoy your company. We can do this.”

You were confused, to say the least, but you decided to go along. Jotaro shouldered his bag, which you assumed had your diving gear and towels. “Let’s go.”

You followed him wordlessly. He led you out of the hotel and across the street, to where your boat was docked. He stood at the wheel and started the boat, and you sat next to him. You stayed quiet until he started up the boat and you were well on your way to the reef you’d planned to dive on that day. “So, I’m not in trouble?”

Jotaro chuckled and looked over at you. His blue eyes were unfathomable. “With the university? No. But with me? That may be a different story.”

You swallowed. “I don’t know if that’s preferable.”

His deep chuckle sounded again. “It’s preferable to being kicked out of your program for making advances on your advisor. I think you’re very intelligent, and it would be a waste to deprive the world of your discoveries simply because you saw me naked a few times.”

He cut the engine. You’d reached the reef. He stood and looked down at you. You cleared your throat. “I’ve only seen you naked once.”

He reached out and traced your cheek from your temple to your chin. “I also think you’re very attractive. If today goes the way I suspect it will, you’ll see me naked a few more times.”

You shivered. You were definitely losing control. You stood, still about a foot shorter than him, and looked him in the eye. “Then let’s start by leveling the playing field.”

Keeping eye contact, you untied the strings on your bikini and let the top fall. His pupils dilated, but his eyes stayed locked on yours. You reached for the string at the bottom and pulled them free of your body. You held your swimsuit bottoms up to him, smiling. His whole body was tense. You’d regained control. “Well, Doctor Kujo. I think that makes us even.” 

He made a move to grab you, but you slipped his grasp and jumped into the ocean. 

The water was quiet and cool, a perfect contrast to the blazing heat of the Caribbean around you. You relished the feeling on your bare skin, and sank deeper into the blue.  

You heard a loud splash, and turned. Jotaro was in the water now, sans his own swimsuit. You grinned at him and swam away, but he was fast. His hands closed on your waist and pulled you to the surface. You both breached the water, face to face. He tilted his head. “I’ve wanted to do this for a while.”

You giggled. “Skinnydip with me?”

He growled. “No, this.”

He grabbed your face in both hands and kissed you hard. You kissed back fervently and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer. His skin was warm against yours. You could feel his cock against your thighs, slowly thickening. When you wrapped your legs around his waist and slid your tongue into his mouth, he groaned and broke the kiss. “Get back on the boat.”

You nodded, clambering up the ladder and onto the deck. He followed, now towering over you again. He grabbed you from behind, pulling you to his chest. You could feel his cock pressing into your back. He was fully hard and throbbing. “Bend over the side of the boat and stay there.”

You nodded, and he released you. You bent over, gripping the side and wiggling your ass at him. You expected him to slide his cock inside you, so it was a surprise when you felt his tongue sliding over your cunt. You moaned, knees shaking already. “Fuck-”

He chuckled softly, pulling back. “Your pussy tastes good. Good girl.”

He smacked your ass roughly and went back to licking your cunt, his tongue sliding back and forth over your clit. He was talented. You were already gushing over his face. “D-Doctor Kujo, that’s so fucking good-”

He started flicking your clit back and forth faster, and you shuddered. “Oh fuck-”

He moaned, his hands gripping your hips and pulling your pussy harder onto his face. You felt your knees threatening to give out. You gripped the side of the boat with white knuckles, moaning louder. “O-Oh, yeah- Yeah-!”

He growled, licking you harder. Your thighs shook. “Fuck, fuck!”

His grip on your hips was bruising you, but you relished in it. Your stomach was tightening up, and you gasped out, “Doctor Kujo, I’m gonna cum-”

He pulled back, his thumb resuming his tongue’s pace on your clit. “Cum on my fucking face, baby. Be a good girl.”

He leaned back in, his hand sliding back to your hip and his tongue flicking your clit. You squealed and came hard. Your pussy gushed all over his face, running down your thighs. He moaned, one hand moving from your hip to grip his cock. Your orgasm rocked your body hard, and you were trembling when he finally pulled away. 

You slid down to rest on your knees, breathing heavily. He pulled you to his chest. “You were so good for me.”

You nodded, catching your breath. “Thank you, Doctor Kujo.”

He kissed your cheek and stood. “I’ve thought about this for a while.”

He stepped around you and cupped your cheek. “So pretty on your knees like that.”

You drank in the praise, leaning into his touch. “What are you going to do?”

He smiled wickedly. “Those tits of yours look starved for attention. Sit up.”

You obeyed, and he cupped them in his hands gently. “Perfect.”

He pushed them together, practically salivating. His cock bobbed, clearly deprived of touch. You leaned in and licked up the underside, and he groaned loudly. “Dirty girl.”

You smiled up at him. “Do you want to fuck my big tits, Doctor Kujo?”

He nodded. “For a long time.”

You leaned up, presenting yourself. “Do it.”

His cock twitched, precum drooling from the slit. “Fuck.”

He thrust between your tits, his precum lubricating his way. You hummed softly, watching as his tip emerged from between your tits. “Does that feel good on your big cock, Doctor Kujo?”

He gasped. “F-Fuck yes. It feels so fucking good-”

He began to buck his hips, his thighs shaking. “Goddamn-”

He threw his head back, squeezing your tits tighter around him. “F-Fuck- unh-”

His thrusts sped up, making him moan loudly. “Oh, yes- Oh- Unh- hah- Fuck!”

He looked down at you with hazy eyes. “Fuck, you’re taking my cock between your fucking tits- G-Good girl, good girl- Hunh-”

You bit your lip, watching him thrust desperately. “Cum on my face, Doctor Kujo-”

He gasped and moaned, cock pulsing hard. “Fuck yeah- Unh- Gonna cum- Gonna cover that pretty fucking face-”

He rammed home, cock throbbing and jumping. “C-Cumming-! Cumming so fucking- UNH-!”

You closed your eyes just in time for his first rope of cum to land on your cheek. Jotaro was gasping and bucking shallowly, the biggest orgasm of his life washing over him. “Cumming on that fucking face- fucking slut- Unh- Unh-”

His vision whited out, and he staggered back. You opened your eyes and pulled him back in, sucking his cock into your mouth and milking the last few spurts. He panted, hanging onto the side of the boat. “F-Fuck.”

You pulled back and looked up at him. “Good?”

He nodded. “Good.”

You smirked. “Now I need to wash this off.”

Jotaro chuckled. “Probably.”

[sohin-ace]

Bucciarati - My little Seastar

Sister reader. Enjoy~

"Hey, Bucciarati! Can you help me for a sec?"

You turned towards the direction of the voice calling you and stopped in your tracks on the wooden docks.

"What do you want, Valentino?" You spat, a bit more harshly than intended.

The smug boy who was crouched on his zodiac chuckled at you. "Aw, come on, Bucciarati! Don't be like that. I just need some help to tie the rope. Your dad is a fisherman, right? You should know knots like no one else!"

Even though he had said this as a way to woo you and flatter you somehow, you couldn't help but hear it as a condescending remark. You crossed your arms over your chest and he pouted at the glare you sent him.

"Pretty please~? No funny business, I swear! Look, the guys aren't even here, I'm all alone. You can trust me!"

That's right. Valentino and his little gang took great pleasure in teasing you and bothering you at every corner and it pissed you off. No matter how much you insulted them, ignored them or avoided them, they never seemed to stop their stupid and useless bullying.

But sadly, oh so sadly, the Bucciarati that you were was kind. Too kind. You despised that you were so gentle-hearted, but in the end, this is how your father and brother had raised you.

You huffed and slumped your arms loose along your body, defeated. "Fine!" You dragged your sandals over the dock and approached him. "It better be quick."

The boy beamed as you embarked on the zodiac next to him, "Sure thing! Thanks a lot, girl. I'll make it up to you!"

He gave you the ropes as you crouched down at his place and got to work. But without you noticing, the boy had swiftly slid his leg over the vehicle and easily jumped back into the dock, leaving you behind.

Before you could even turn around and ask where he was going, the brat, now accompanied by all three of his little buddies that appeared out of their hiding spot, all kicked the zodiac off of the dock before you could even tie it.

"Waah-!"

You lost balance at the violent jerk of the boat and yelped, letting go of the ropes that could have saved you from your demise.

You couldn't even get back to your knees and try desperately to grab onto the dock's wooden planks. You heard the boys snickering and laughing at you as you drifted farther and farther away from the land into the water.

"I fucking knew it you disgusting piece of TRASH!" You yelled at them, angry with them obviously, but also angry with yourself for granting that bastard the benefit of the doubt. "You know damn well I can't swim!"

They all seemed to laugh even louder, obnoxiously. "Too bad for you Bucciarati! Maybe you shouldn't be so stupid next time! BWAHAHAHA!"

"YOU'RE AN ASSHOLE VALENTINO! SCREW YOU!"

Your curses and wails seem to fall into deaf ears as you drifted even farther away from the coast, with no way of even paddling back.

Looking around towards the much bigger boats parked along the docks, you could only hope 'he' would hear you.

"PAPA!! PAPAAA!!!" You called desperately. Surely he would hear you, he wasn't far after all, you did come all the way here to bring him his lunch. He must still be somewhere around the fishing boats.

After a few more vain attempts to call for your father, you settled to accept that he wouldn't hear you, nor would the other fishermen that were already far gone from their boats to bring their catches to land.

You sat on the damp zodiac and brought your knees to your chest, not even caring if your sundress slid down your thighs indecently and got stained by the salty water. Stupid Valentino couldn't even keep his tiny boat clean.

"Stupid, stupid..." Your voice cracked, threatening to break into a sob. "If he was a sailor he'd be dead before even sailing. That's how stupid this stupid boy is. Stupid."

With only your expletives to reassure you in your demise, you buried half of your face in your arms now craddling your cold knees.

Everything was so silent, the sea did a great job at muting every sound around the coast and you felt the loneliest and most scared you had ever been since you were a child.

You thought nobody would find you, and you'd be dead drowning because you could never learn to swim and since nobody even noticed your absence in minutes that felt like hours, nobody would cry for you if you died here either.

And so the stinging tears prickled at your eyes.

"Y/N?" You heard a familiar voice calling your name, but brushed it off as the wind. "Y/N is that you?"

You looked up towards the insistant voice in a sliver of hope and, like an angel fallen from heaven, you were met with the caring blue gaze of your big brother from the railings of one of the high boats right next to where you had drifted to.

"Bruno!" You gasped and got up immediately, almost falling over from the sudden sway of the boat under your weight. "A-ah! Bruno help me, I'm stuck!"

"Hold on!" The worried face of the male hesitated to leave you for even a split second. "I'm coming down. Don't move."

You nodded at his strict tone and waited for him as he disapeared. Your breath caught in your throat with stress, even though you were reassured to finally have a savior. And what a savior it was, your one and only big brother.

Barely a minute passed before you saw him come back and unravel an emergency ladder down to you. He made sure the ladder was all tight and secure and almost immediately after, Bruno jumped over the railing, to your grand fright, and started climbing down, your heart pounding with worry for him.

He finally arrived down and stepped into the zodiac, joining you, like a glorious hero, saving the day. You barely let him any time to react as you threw yourself into his chest and gripped viciously at the back of his shirt, scrunching it without care, scared to be alone at sea again.

Bruno wanted to scold you and yell at you for recklessly playing around all alone in the docks and ending yourself in such a dire situation. But when he felt you trembling and squeezing him like your life depended on it, which ironically it did, the elder couldn't help but sigh and wrap his long arms around your shoulders, a gesture of comfort.

"... What happened to you?"

"It's-" You choked a sob and Bruno tutted and shushed you softly, patting your head to calm you down, just like your mother used to do when you were a child.

"Shhh, it's okay bambina, I'm here now."

He felt you relax and you sniffled a few times before mumbling into his shirt. "It's Valentino! He tricked me! I hate him! He's such a coglione!"

"Hey! Language." He scolded and pinched your arm, earning a little 'ow' from you, "What would dad think if he heard you say such words? Bite your tongue, young lady."

"S-sorry..." You croaked a little ashamed of your outburst and lifted your head up at your brother. "They always do this to me... Valentino and the others... Why...? They know I can't swim and they throw me into the water all the time..."

Bruno let go of you to cup your face and wipe your tears off. He did not let it show to you but he was infuriated. There was only so much patience an Italian man could have when his family was being targeted. Especially his little sister and the only lasting woman of his life.

"Shh, stop crying now, mia stellina marina. I'll deal with them later, okay? Let's get you home for now."

"They'll see." You sniffled as your breath steadied, calmed by Bruno's soft tone, "When I'll marry a big, tall, goth policeman, he'll beat them up for me and then, they won't act so cocky anymore."

He huffed with amusement at your words before he let you go and laid a gentle hand on your back to usher you towards the ladder.  Bruno, still with a bit of confusion, mumbled to himself without you hearing it.

"... Why goth, though?"

Only now had you noticed the zodiac had stopped drifting since Bruno found you, held onto the much bigger boat by a phantom blue and white arm and a golden zipper that you'd recognize from a mile away.

"Can we... Can we let the zodiac in here?" You asked hesitantly towards your brother who paid no mind to it.

"Who cares? It's not ours."

With thoughts of Valentino's expensive motorboat getting lost in the sea, you slowly took ahold of the ladder's ropes and started climbing, Bruno keeping it steady for you until he was sure you embarked in safely.

He then joined you up and lent you a spare jacket that he thankfully thought of taking with him in the morning, covering you from the cold of your drenched dress against the littoral wind.

"Thank you Bruno..." You softly uttered and hugged his warm jacket closer around you, "I always cause you trouble..."

"Nonsense, piccolina. I could never live knowing my sister is crying, cold and afraid somewhere." He squeezed your shoulder against him as you approached the stall your father and his colleagues were filling with freshly caught fishes. "I'll make sure you're the one that never gets troubled again..."

Fortunately for you, the day ended much more peacefully than it had started and your father was happy and relieved to find you safe and uninjured. He had specifically instructed Bruno to not get involved or make a scene, but of course, his son was a stubborn mediterranean who could not let anything just slide.

It was not the first, not the second, nor even the third time this boy, 'Valentino' and his friends, had taken offense towards you.

So, Bruno would make sure the zodiac Valentino had worked oh-so-hard to afford, part-timing as a waiter, cleaning after people's messes, scrubing disgusting shit-stained lavatories and cutting his hands off of plastic and metal scraps scattered along the beaches for a few cents per day, got thoroughly anihilated to pieces.

"NOOOO!!!! MY ZODIAC !!!! MY 50 000€ BAAABYYYYYY!!! WHYYYYY???!!"

The very next day, as you walked along the docks to bring some fishing materials to your brother, you heard the painful wails of a very familiar boy kneeling down and crying on the woodplanks, his screams echoing against the shore.

"SHUT UP BRAT! You'll think about your money after you pay for the fines I'm about to give you. You think you can get away with polluting the water with your gross ass wreckage?" A tall and burly policeman wearing purple lipstick growled at the kneeling boy, no signs of mercy in his baritone voice. "You'll have a reason to cry when you pay for the oil you spilled in here. You're lucky I'm not throwing your ass in jail right now."

"Officer please-" Valentino pleaded miserably, but the policeman did not hold back on pushing all fives of the different citations he had owned by having pieces of his zodiac scattered all around the precious ressourceful ocean.

"You have two weeks to pay up and clean all that shit." The officer fixed his shades over his nose before turning around to leave. "And expect to receive a salty lawsuit soon. Fucking whiny bitchbaby..."

The policeman left with a determined and impatient step as you witnessed the entire scene with wide eyes, not noticing your brother approaching.

"Oh no... That's horrible..." You gasped with sympathy and worry, "I hope the fishes and corals won't get impacted by the oil spill..."

"Oh don't worry," Bruno chuckled, taking the heavy loads off your hands, "I made sure to zip that out of the water."

You blinked, confused.

"...What?"

"What...?"

That fic was inspired by the very first scene of H2O, I love that show so much, and I can't wait to post my mermaid fics in store!

[chaos-has-theories]

Part 1: The Eye of John

You’ve heard of „Alecto is a Resurrection Beast“, „Alecto is Gaia“ and „Alecto is a seamonster“, you’ve heard of John’s sun symbolism, now get ready for:

John is Ra and Alecto is Mehet-Weret

or less specifically Hathor, or The Eye of Ra

[Image description: A picture in the Ancient Egyptian style. It shows a large blue cow with stars along its belly. There are nine people under it, keeping it steady. An empty boat floats by its back legs, and another boat by its front legs, this one with the god Ra as a passenger. A large red arrow points at the cow and is labelled “Alecto???”.]

(More under the cut, because this shit will get long.)

First, for the record, I am emphatically not a learned egyptologist, so I might be getting things wrong here.

Secondly, ancient Egyptian mythology is a gorgeous mess. You can’t ever just say that x is the child of y, because they’re bound to also be siblings, and spouses, and x is also a and b and y is also b and c and... yeah.

Anyway, let’s do this.

---

I was rereading Harrow the Ninth with my roommates and we got to this part:

"Your sword will not rend its armour”, he said, with his back turned to them. “It’s weapons will ruin your flesh. It will not stop until it has subsumed its quarry.” (HtN p. 329)

and I thought to myself, huh, that kind of sounds like the Eye of Ra.

So let’s talk about that!

Now, the main story of the Eye of Ra is that, long ago, when the gods were still like, living on earth with the humans, people started to criticize Ra, their ruler.

That pissed off Ra, so he sent off his „Eye“ to punish them. She did, killing almost all the humans, but then Ra couldn’t really get her to stop. So the gods made a bunch of dyed beer with some blood in it, and the Eye drank it all and became drunk and docile.

So far, so good. Technically, at that point Teacher is talking about the Sleeper, but we all know that there are heavy parallels between the Sleeper and the Body. Also, there’s more where that came from.

"My lord,” said Augustine formally, “you told us the truth about Annabel–about Alecto–because she knew the truth too, and you never could control her.” (HtN, p. 478)

”Annabel Lee... was not the dying kind,” said the Emperor. It might be more accurate to say that I switched her off.” “You came to us and we asked, Is she dead?” said Mercy. “And you said, As dead as I can make her... I remember, Lord, that you wept.” (HtN, p. 479)

Neither Alecto nor the Eye of Ra are stopped by death or reason but instead kept somehow subdued.

But it gets better, and weirder.

The most famous version of the Eye of Ra is probably Sakhmet, the lion goddess. Sometimes she's a cat, Bastet; but just as often she’s depicted as a cow, Hathor.

There's a specific version of this myth called „The Book of the Heavenly Cow“ or „The Destruction of Mankind“. Here’s a translation of it.

I just learned about this myth. I learned about it under the Name of „Mehet-Weret“. Hathor and Mehet-Weret are… the same goddess? Not the same goddess? Sometimes the same goddess? They’re both cow themed, and occasionally take the same roles. Mythology is confusing, y’all.

Here’s what Wikipedia has to say about it:

Hathor was given the epithets "mistress of the sky" and "mistress of the stars", and was said to dwell in the sky with Ra and other sun deities. Egyptians thought of the sky as a body of water through which the sun god sailed, and they connected it with the waters from which, according to their creation myths, the sun emerged at the beginning of time. This cosmic mother goddess was often represented as a cow. Hathor and Mehet-Weret were both thought of as the cow who birthed the sun god and placed him between her horns. Like Nut, Hathor was said to give birth to the sun god each dawn.

Since I remembered the name Mehet-Weret and was very proud of that, that’s where I actually started my research here, and…

Mehet-Weret or Mehturt (Ancient Egyptian: mḥt-wrt) is an ancient Egyptian deity of the sky in ancient Egyptian religion. Her name means "Great Flood". She was mentioned in the Pyramid Texts. In ancient Egyptian creation myths, she gives birth to the sun at the beginning of time, and in art she is portrayed as a cow with a sun disk between her horns. She is associated with the goddesses Neith, Hathor, and Isis, all of whom have similar characteristics, and like them she could be called the "Eye of Ra". Mehet-Weret is primarily known as being the "Celestial Cow" or "Cow Goddess" because of her physical characteristics, but she contributes to the world in more ways than that. She is also the Goddess of Water, Creation, and Rebirth; in Egyptian mythology, Mehet-Weret is one of the main components in the making and survival of life. (...) She was credited for the birth of Re, also known as the Sun God Ra; she is also the one who protects Re. (Wikipedia)

SHE’S (a version of) THE PRIMORDIAL FLOOD, Y’ALL.

You said, “Teacher, what destroyed the House of the First?” “Not much,” said the Emperor, and he tried to smile. It was awful. “Rising sea levels and a massive nuclear fission chain reaction...it all went downhill from there.” (HtN p. 346)

"Even the devil bent for God to put a leash around her neck (...) But when the work was done (...) they bade him kill the saltwater creature before she could do them harm...” (HtN p. 328)

Next to you, the body said quietly, “The water is risen. So is the sun. We will endure.” (HtN p. 294)

On this same read-through I snagged on „The water is risen, so is the sun“ because it sounds so much like a quote, but I couldn’t find anything. Yes, John has sun symbolism and Alecto all that water stuff, but where is the connection?

Well, here. It’s just Ancient Egyptian Creation Myths.

The different creation myths have some elements in common. They all held that the world had arisen out of the lifeless waters of chaos (…) The sun was also closely associated with creation, and it was said to have first risen from the mound, as the general sun-god Ra.

That makes Alecto literally the First One. It makes her John’s protector as the Eye. It gives her a connection to water and and even death and the underworld. (It also gives her a connection to the sky, which always fits in a Space Fantasy.)

Essentially,

I can see two figures in Egyptian mythology that fit what we know of Alecto. Those would be the Eye of Ra, an uncontrollable creature of rage and revenge; and the flood from which the sun god rises during the creation of the world. And Mehet-Weret fits into both.

But you’re not convinced yet? Alright then. Remember how Hathor/Mehet-Weret is a cow?

"Oh, singular,” said Dulcinea quietly, more to herself than to Gideon. “Lipochrome...recessive.” (GtN, p. 106)

When she spoke at last, she sounded frozen and numb. “I see. I understand. Lipochrome. Recessive. You are the evidence.” (HtN, p. 410)

I did not know what the fuck to say to her incoherent spew. She said, ragged, peevish: “What? No tongue in your head, you–you mutant, you mistake, you great big calf-eyed fuck-up?”

If you’re like me and know nothing about biology, you’ll hop over to Wikipedia  and find this:

A lipochrome (from Greek λίπος ("fat") and χρῶμα ("color")) is a naturally occurring, fat-soluble pigment. Lipofuscin—a product of fat breakdown in lysosomes—is a type of lipochrome that is associated with the decomposition of cell membranes. Beta carotene, a lipochrome, was found in the retina, pigment epithelium, and iris of cattle eyes.

This is the entirety of the article by the way.

…and I was wondering why Tamsyn didn’t just call the eyes „Amber“.

Now you might say, but Chaos, you know they’re not really her eyes…

Yeah.

They’re John’s eyes.

They are, you might say, the Eyes of John.

---

THERE WILL BE MORE PARTS because I am LOSING MY MIND OVER THIS but this post is already longer than it has any right to be.

In the meantime, here’s an article on Mehet-Weret that I think is actually well researched and probably does a better job explaining how all these different gods fit together than I ever could.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

tuxedo iii, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, mentions of previous jungkook x reader

summary: It’s the next morning. Your cat is still a man. Fuck. He still thinks he owns the place, including you. Sigh. Well, you still have to do your job, because, yikes, your cat-man has spent a small fortune on new clothes (spending like he’s got a black card, what’s up with that?). Ah, but... maybe both of you are starting to finally acknowledge that he might be a more man than cat – at least for the time being...?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, mentions of the coronavirus pandemic; possibly full-on crack; mentions of and a tiny bit of smut (fem reader, spanking, doggy, unintentional??? voyeurism, dry humping / thigh riding); domestic and soft moments with your cat-man; non-idol!AU - cat!Yoongi x human!reader; ft slightly cocky Jeon Jungkook (+drama!!!) and bestfriend!Kim Seokjin; breaking of the fourth wall; are YOU a furry? yeah, I kinda think you are

*deep breath* I reference a certain boat that was stuck in the Suez Canal, Yoongi's livestream where he poked himself in the nose with the coffee straw, his love for tangerines, too many Twitch chat memes, that time his mom called him a boiled dumpling, 'BST' pink pajama Yoongi, DTS, TXT's 'Cat & Dog', etc...

–

part i | part ii

-

You woke up slowly. 

A perfect, peaceful morning. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Neck cradled by your memory foam pillow? Check. Back well supported by your soft mattress? Check. Not sleeping on your sofa and destroying your spine? Check. Hey, you’re moving up in life! Ah, what a normal day already. You opened your eyes a crack; vision blurred from the morning sunlight filtering through your curtains. Bundled in your minty-green duvet? Check. Wearing your extra soft black-and-white striped pajamas? Check. 

Large pale human hand firmly gripping your right titty? Check. 

Wait… 

What?

Your eyes snapped open and flew to your left. 

Min Yoongi's face was centimeters from yours, buried into your pillow, messy bedhead sticking out everywhere. Black choker with the tiny silver bell around his neck. Still had those black velvety pointed cat ears and glowing pale skin, pretty pink lips ever-so-slightly upturned, warm exhale against your ear. 

Your cat still a disturbingly handsome man?

Ah, yup, check. 

His hand was on your right breast, fingers molded to the soft curve. A quick glance and, whew, he was still fully dressed in his black t-shirt and sweatpants from yesterday. Yes, fully, completely dressed. Shit, what if he caught you staring? You quickly flickered your eyes up at the ceiling, hastily wiping the drool away from your mouth. Whoa there. That would be embarrassing if he caught that.

Also, kind of gross. Don’t be gross. Keep it together.

Hahaha…

Well, yup, this was still awkward, the whole hand-on-the-titty thing, hahaha, but not as awkward as it would be if, hahaha, you accidentally, oh, don't know, hahaha, got really, really, really disgustingly drunk and, hahaha, had somehow lost all impulse control and, hahaha, fucked your cat?

Man.

Cat-man. 

Hahaha, that would never happen. You’d make sure of that.

... 

Unless?

No, no, no, stop, he's your cat, your cat, he's literally been a (cat) man for one fucking day, albeit a incredibly hot, deliciously built (cat) man who put your facial massager on your nipple and let you touch his human dick in the shower and he was hard for a hot second, so... no, no, no, stop, you are not a desperate thot, get a fucking grip – well, you kind of are – but not him, for fuck’s sake, you still don't understand what the fuck is going on or if he even remotely likes you and, let's face it, he probably doesn’t because you almost paid a guy to chop off his nuts–

"Are you dying?"

You choked on air and lurched sharply at the sudden deep, raspy voice. The grip on your right breast tightened, preventing you from moving away. You did what any sensible human being would do in this situation and wheezed like you were on the verge of passing out. 

"Urk!"

"Do you have high blood pressure?" Yoongi yawned calmly, turning his face to the side to avoid breathing in your face, thereby pressing his body even closer to you. Your neck and ears heated to five billion degrees. "Your heart's beating abnormally fast. Maybe you should see a doctor."

You definitely needed to see a doctor for something as well as several gallons of holy water and a priest to get an exorcism for that horny demon inside you. 

"Y-Your hand!"

Yoongi grunted. "What about it?"

What about it???

"It's on my tits!" you squeaked.

Yoongi lifted his head, squinting. "It is." Then his head dropped and he closed his eyes again. 

HELLO, Min Yoongi? That's ALL you have to say???

"Is there a problem?"

IS THERE A PROBLEM???????

"I've always slept like this," he mumbled.

That's... true though. Your tuxedo cat, previously named Shooky until you realized he had his own name, did used to always sleep next to you, when he wasn’t trying to murder you by sitting on your chest, that is (he was adamant on letting you know when he needed breakfast). Usually, your cat was splayed out by your left side, his long body extended and pressed against you, his white, sock-like paws encircling your arm. Shooky had basically been a small furry heater that kicked you sometimes in his sleep. 

Keyword: small.

"Y-You w-were a cat!" you sputtered.

"I'm still a cat."

"No, you're a man! With arms!"

"The reach is a little farther. Who cares?"

WHO CARES???????

Before you could very loudly inform Yoongi who exactly cared – that’s you, by the way, yes, you – he wrapped his arms around you and yanked your body to his, turning you into a red-hot chili pepper with the amount of heat your face was now emitting. Then his free hand grabbed your other titty. Without asking! Without even so much as buying you dinner or, hell, giving you a goddamn cracker! You didn't need to be wined and dined, but at least a single fucking snack before using your tits like his own personal stress ball!

Yoongi pressed your back into his chest.

You froze. 

He pressed his crotch into your ass, shivering slightly.

Your soul left your body. 

"Ugh, this human body is terrible," Yoongi muttered. "Always so cold. I need this extra body heat or I'll die."

You'll die? YOU’LL DIE?

You were pretty sure that you were already dead. Rest in peace.

Hang on. 

Something was stuck in a very specific place, quite similar to a far-too-large boat in a narrow canal.

"Um."

Er...

"What?" your cat-man grunted.

"Your..." You gulped. "Dick."

"What about it?"

"You, uh... have morning wood."

"Is that a human euphemism?" he grumbled impatiently, clear annoyance in his tone. "I don't understand your species. Wouldn't it be easier to be straightforward and explain yourself clearly?"

A muscle in your eye twitched, reaching breaking point.

"Your dick is rock-hard and you're shoving it between my ass cheeks!"

"Yeah, so? It's cold too."

Your irritation fizzled out at Yoongi’s self-assured, completely calm response. In fact, he sounded borderline bored and exasperated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. His hard dick was cold, so he put it in the warmest place he could find, your ass, duh. Nothing weird about it, of course. Your mind reeled, unable to compute what the fuck was going on. Thus, your body did what it did best in these moments where you did not want to give a response that would most certainly expose you and your dire need to get dicked.

Not deal with it, of course.

You fainted.

-

"Fuck!"

You shot out of bed at the harsh yell, tangled in the covers, barely registering that Yoongi no longer had a death grip on your tits – in fact, he was no longer in bed at all – and stumbled towards the source of the sound, highly disoriented, your earlier fainting spell turning you into a bumbling mess.

Admittedly, not that different from your usual self.

(Ouch, roasted.)

"What, what, what?" you croaked, running into the doorframe of the bedroom and nearly taking yourself out. 

Might as well, maybe it would have been a blessing in disguise, considering the way your life was going. 

You finally tumbled your way to the kitchen, where your cat-man was hissing at the pan on the stove. 

"I was trying to make eggs," Yoongi spat, pointing accusingly at the frying pan. His ears were flat and his tail was sticking straight up. "And then it attacked me."

If you had three functioning brain cells, you would have remembered Yoongi putting his morning wood between your ass cheeks this morning, but alas, you only had two at the moment – you did run into the doorframe, might have lost one there – so instead you nudged him aside and rolled up your sleeves, taking the pan and shaking it so the eggs wouldn't burn. 

"Was it the oil? Sometimes it pops," you asked as Yoongi continued death glaring at the pan.

"I saw you doing this yesterday. You didn't seem bothered," he mumbled, finishing with a low, angry hiss as if the pan was sentient and mocking him. The oil popped and seared your forearm, but at this point you maybe had five hair follicles total on your arms with how many times hot oil had splattered in you. It used to bother you when you were a kid, but years of cooking had desensitized the feeling, turning it to nothing more than a mere annoyance. Yoongi stayed behind you, intermittently letting out hisses of rage as you cooked.

"I told you, my dad's a chef. You get used to it," you said, tipping the pan and flipping the thin egg pancake with ease. 

"That's bizarre," Yoongi muttered. "No normal animal gets used to pain."

Normality was starting to become a bit of a foreign concept to you.  As for being an animal, well…

You took the pan off the heat and rolled the egg onto a plate with a spare set of chopsticks, turning it into a log shape. A literal egg roll, ready to be sliced into bite-sized pieces. You took a sniff. It seemed to be seasoned already. Had Yoongi simply copied what you did yesterday? His observation skills were insane.

"Then again, you seem to enjoy–"

"Yoongi," you blurted, not wanting to know what he thought you seemed to enjoy, but very sure it was going to be one-hundred-percent embarrassing and only for you. "There's some leftover beef and vegetables in the fridge you can have with the egg and rice."

He raised his eyebrows. "Beef? Why didn't you say so earlier?"

Because I was asleep and maybe half-dead? "Did you brush your teeth?' you asked suddenly. 

Yoongi scowled. "Unfortunately."

"Right, so should I, goodbye now."

You marched away hurriedly, trying not to think about how your cat had surely witnessed you getting spanked while being fucked from behind by none other than, surprise, surprise, his not-so-favorite human being, Jeon Jungkook. Tattoo guy strikes again. The worst part was, you couldn't lock the door on your cat either, because then he would meow incessantly while you were getting deep-dicked and that was even worse. 

"Your cat really likes you, huh?" Jungkook mused as you yanked open the bedroom door to the black-and-white tuxedo furball. 

"Like is a strong word," you muttered at your cat, who yawned and sauntered past you to his cat tree, acting like he owned the damn place. 

"I like you."

"Hah... wait, what?"

Jungkook grinned as your eyes found his. Took a while. You were a little distracted by his nakedness. His tattoos up his right arm. His tan skin. His muscles. His white teeth biting on his lower lip, tiny mole underneath flashing. His long black hair, framing dark chocolate eyes and teasing, cocked eyebrow. 

"I like you," he repeated, voice deep and sexy.

You turned red and made the most coherent noise you could. 

“... Urk?”

“Noona.”

Why did he look so fucking hot and disrespectful at the same time when saying an honorific?

Jungkook came up to you, hand cupping your head and tangling his fingers in your hair. He brought his face close to yours, lips brushing against your swollen ones, taking your breath away.

"Wanna go back to me spanking you while you get off on my dick?"

Respectfully, of course. 

"How much rice do you want?"

You started, poking yourself in the nose with your toothpaste-covered toothbrush and smearing mint up your nostril – almost as bad as poking a coffee straw up your nose during a livestream in front of millions of people, yikes – as Yoongi appeared behind you, breaking you out of the memory. Your cat-man watched you with mild disgust and displeasure as you coughed and dunked your head into the sink, hurriedly rinsing off your burning nose.

"Whatever, I'll just fill it halfway."

And he left you sputtering, pajamas and hair soaking wet in your haste.

Awesome. 

-

“I’m ordering some groceries,” you announced in between bites of rice and egg. You tapped lightly at the phone screen as you spoke. Green onions, tofu, cucumbers… “Do you want anything?”

“Meat.”

You swiped rapidly and added packages of chicken, pork, and beef into your cart. Why the fuck not? You like meat. All kinds of–

“Yes, Yoongi, I’m getting meat. Anything else?”

“What else is there?”

You made a face and handed him your phone. “All sorts of things. Household products too, in case you don’t want to smell like my soap.”

“Your soap is preferable,” he said absentmindedly, scrolling through the online grocery app. You continued eating, shoving things in your mouth and none of it dick. Sad. At least it tasted good. Your cat-man had seasoned the egg well. You jumped as Yoongi spoke again. “I want these.” He turned the phone around.

You squinted at the screen, staring at a picture of orange balls. “Tangerines? Why?”

He turned the phone back to him. “They’re small, round, and look tasty.”

You blinked at him, then shrugged. “Sure, why not? I guess your palette might have changed. Try whatever you want.”

He pursed his lips and pressed a few buttons as you ate. You realized you needed to order more groceries now that your cat was a man eating your human food and no longer a cat eating his rather expensive cat food. Sigh. You had put Shooky’s cat bowls in a cabinet earlier this morning before sitting down to eat. It seemed weird leaving them out on the floor like that. Kind of offensive, maybe, now that your cat was a man and all…

“Okay, I ordered it.”

“Ah, okay, that’s good. They’ll probably come later this week.”

-

After breakfast, you spent nearly half an hour with Yoongi trying to pick out something for him to watch from your various streaming services, only for him to select a historical drama series. Like what? You cat (man) wanted to watch historical drama out of all things? Instead of learning about the modern world, he wanted to watch a depiction of the past?

Whatever, it had seventy-seven episodes, so at least he would be occupied for a while.

You let him be and went to your computer, intending on getting some editing done. Sure, the universe decided your cat was a man now, but you still needed to pay for said cat-man’s existence. You still didn’t know what you were going do to with all that cat food, cat toys, cat tree… ugh, this was all a problem for future you, not present you.

Present you needed to splice five-hundred images of PepeHands together and overlay it over a League of Legends one-shot compilation.

Uh, so, it was this meme of a green frog named Pepe holding up his anthropomorphic hands in despair, therefore coining the term PepeHands for a particular Twitch chat emote… never mind, it just meant you were spending some time video editing for a gaming YouTuber and it required concentration, shitty memes, and well-timed captions. And you were getting paid good money to do this.

Yeah, it’s a weird world.

You sat at your desktop and got to work, doing the rough cuts of the video first. Thankfully, the YouTuber had already sent you the timestamps of the noteworthy moments, therefore making your job a lot easier. You spent several hours compiling the clips before adding your extra flair and effects. You had a library of images and sound bites that you commonly used (including Goofy singing Evanescence's ‘Bring Me to Life’) and was in the middle of grayscaling a video clip and adding the familiar audio of all around me are familiar faces before being scared shitless.

“Woof.”

You swore someone was singing ‘Mad World’ as they were narrating your life right now.

“Gah!”

You jerked in your seat to see Yoongi leaning over behind you, eyebrow raised as you gawked at him.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that!” you exclaimed, pulling back an earcup of your headset.

He frowned. “How can I sneak up on you?” He flicked the silver bell on the black choker around his neck, making it jingle cheerfully. “You put stupid thing on me, remember?”

You winced. “Well, I’d take it off, but there’s some kind of voodoo magic on that shit – and hey, don’t change the subject! You have that weird cat thing where you’re silent no matter what.”

Yoongi looked unbothered. “Weird cat thing? Thought you said I was a man?”

“Thought you said you were a cat?” you shot back.

You glared at him and he gave you a blank expression. Then he cocked his head to your desk.

“Your phone is flashing.”

You jerked your head to see your phone screen flicker. You grabbed it off you desk and unlocked it, checking your messages. Five messages from – ah, but of course – your best friend. Kim Seokjin.

LET ME SEE YOUR CAT

LET ME SEE YOUR CAT

LET ME SEE YOUR CAT

LET ME SEE YOUR CAT

LET ME SEE YOUR CAT

You pursed your lips. With the pandemic and all, you hadn’t visited Seokjin in forever, but every week he would text you, asking for a photo of your cat and he would send you a picture of his sugar glider. With every week being the same and nothing interesting of note happening, it was hard to think of conversation topics. Therefore, Seokjin and you came up with this weekly event so your friendship wouldn’t deteriorate. Also, both of you were serious introverts, so he spent most of this pandemic playing MapleStory while you spent most of it on your couch watching Netflix with your cat. It was a miracle you two hadn’t morphed into actual potatoes yet.

You glanced at Yoongi, who was inspecting his nails and picking at them. You frowned and batted at his hand. He frowned back and smacked yours, harder. You glared at him. He gave you a vacant stare, as if he had done nothing.

“Why are you picking at your cuticles?” you muttered, going back to your phone and sending Seokjin an old picture of Shooky. You couldn’t exactly send him a picture of current Shooky. He was… well, currently not a cat. You stared at the picture of the fluffy tuxedo cat curled into a ball, asleep in your lap on the couch.

That moment wasn’t even that long ago.

Somehow, it felt like ages since you had last petted that furry butt.

“Hm, dunno. Occupies my hands, I guess,” Yoongi replied distractedly.

“Well, you shouldn’t. It’s not good for you.” You noticed you had another message from the local delivery service, saying a package had arrived at your doorstep. You stood, placing your phone on the desk and looked at Yoongi, who was staring at his old cat tree, the one by the window. When he was a cat, he used to poke his head between the curtains and look outside, watching the birds. It was his favorite haunt.

Now…

“Why’d you say woof?” you asked abruptly, giving him a quizzical look. “I thought you were a cat.”

Yoongi shrugged, tearing his eyes away from the cat tree to give you an uninterested stare. “Thought it would surprise you more. You’ve heard meow for long enough.”

You furrowed your brow. “Why would you want to surprise me?”

He shrugged again. “I was bored.”

“… You were bored so you decided to sneak up and scare the shit out of me?”

He paused, black tail swishing back and forth, pointed ears perked. Then he nodded.

“Yup.”

Sigh.

-

You lugged in the huge cardboard box, Yoongi standing out of sight of the front door as you huffed and puffed with your weak arms. Okay, it wasn’t even that big, but it was quite heavy and you weren’t exactly John Cena. Your arms were about as strong as a bowl of overcooked ramyeon noodles and that was putting it kindly. You weren’t the working out type. People who worked out diligently were dog people. People who preferred sleeping as their primary workout regimen had cats. What were the kinds of people who had cat-men then? The kind of people who like sleeping, but also needed a…

(You already know the answer.)

Yoongi snapped the door closed the second you managed to pull it on far enough to do so.

“You look like a boiled dumpling,” he commented.

“At least I’m delicious food,” you wheezed, inspecting the box. You recognized the clothing brand. “Is this the stuff your ordered? How did it come so fast?”

“I selected next-day delivery.”

You paled.

“I need clothes as soon as possible, don’t I? Or should I go back to being naked, since you’re a pervert?”

You choked, ears burning. “I’m not a pervert!”

“Mhm.”

You tried not to think about the hit on your wallet as you grabbed your keys from the side table and opened the box, seeing all the plastic packages inside. Monotone, in white or black. Figures. You tipped the box to the side and the clothes spilled out, tumbling all over the floor. It took a firm shake to dump it all on the ground. You got on your hands and knees to spread them out, tossing the cardboard aside carelessly to shift through the items. Hopefully, Yoongi had read the listings and selected the correct sizes. From your brief glance, you noticed the tops were quite oversized. Maybe he liked that fit? He had been quite a fluffy cat.

You spotted the packing slip with all the prices listed. You fished it out and then heard a thunk-thunk-thunk, the sound of cardboard on hardwood. Huh?

You looked up to see Yoongi swatting the box around.

“What… are you doing?”

He shrugged. “Investigating.”

You blinked. “Investigating what?”

“Don’t know. I simply feel the need to investigate, thus I am doing so.”

You stared at Yoongi for several minutes as he continued to… uh, investigate (???) the cardboard box, holding it this way and that, smacking it around, watching the flaps bounce in the air as it rolled. His velvety ears perked upwards, sleek black tail swishing with interest.

His expression was completely neutral.

For the first time since becoming a human, you thought Yoongi was more cat than man.

“Uh… okay…”

You glimpsed down to the paper in your hands, seeing the total cost.

You felt the color drain out of your face.

My… wallet…

F in the chat.

You fainted.

-

You felt someone poking you in the head.

“Are you dead?”

You gasped and jerked up like a drown victim coming up for air, still in mild shock of the sudden financial hit of your cat becoming a man. It was okay. You weren’t poor. You just didn’t expect Yoongi to be a shopping like he owned a fucking black card.

“Did I spend too much?”

You snapped out of your stunned state at his soft tone. Yoongi wasn’t looking at you. He was kneeling on top of the pile of clothes, dark eyes on the paper in your shaking hands. With a start, you realized his words were heavy with guilt, his ears pointing downwards and tail tucked against the ground.

“No,” you said quickly, putting the receipt down. “No, Yoongi. I asked you to buy clothes, remember? And besides, it’s better for you to buy things you like and are interested in, rather than me wasting money on things you’ll never wear.”

He raised his head a little, eyes darting from your face to your hands.

You smiled at him, reaching up to pat his head and stroke the fur on his ears. “Hey, don’t worry. It’s only money. Money will never be more important to me than you, okay?”

For a second, you saw something flicker in Yoongi’s eyes. It was so fast that you barely caught it. Relief? Gratitude? Fondness? Then he ticked his head out of your hand, fair cheeks flushing pink.

“You… you don’t have to do that,” he muttered.

“O… oh.” For some reason, you felt a pang in your chest at his words. “R-right.”

Yoongi made eye contact with you, dark brown orbs guarded. He spoke quietly, without emotion.

“Do you wish this never happened?”

“What?” You furrowed your brows. “What do you mean?”

He gestured to himself, waving a hand up and down carelessly. “This. Human me.”

Human me.

You answered instantly.

“No.”

Yoongi gave you the disbelieving side-eye.

You let out a sheepish puff of air. “I always kind of wished you were human.” You scratched the back of your head aimlessly. “No one listened to me like you did. Even if I was having the shittest day of all time, you always made it better. You were the best cat ever.” You chuckled, smiling up at him. “Sure, your species changed, but you’re still the same, right?”

His eyes shifted, his cheeks still a light pink. “I’m still a cat,” he mumbled awkwardly.

You raised your brows. “Mhm, is that why you were playing with the box?”

“I wasn’t playing with the box,” Yoongi huffed, sounding insulted.

“Then I’ll break it down and recycle it.”

“No,” he snapped firmly. “It’s useful. We’re keeping it.”

“We don’t need a box, Yoongi.”

He tutted. “Hmph, humans. So wasteful. A perfectly good box should be reused.”

“Right.”

You tried to hide your laugh as Yoongi refused to look you in the eye.

-

You left Yoongi to examine his new wardrobe on the floor. You tried to pick them up but he stubbornly remained on the pile of clothes, not letting you move them. When you stood up to leave, you asked him when he was going to move – he replied with, "When it feels right", just cat things, you supposed – and hurried off to export the edited video you were working on earlier. The due date was today and you had to review it for quality.

A certain quality. 

A certain quality of... of... 

Needing the money.

Because your cat (man) had spent fat chunk of it on clothes, only to be more interested in the box they came in and sitting on said clothes rather than the actual items themselves. 

Sigh. 

-

"I ordered the wrong color."

"Oh?" you muttered distractedly, clocking on the export button. You'd been going cross-eyed for the past two or three hours – had it really been that long? shit – and checked your phone to see Gukmul, Seokjin's white sugar glider, peering up at the camera on a white fluffy blanket. You smiled, typing a response to praise his cuteness, completely ignoring the fact that Seokjin had also stuck his handsome face in the photo, smiling with a thumbs-up next to his pet. 

The reply was instant. 

hello, acknowledge my BEAUTIFUL FACE

You deliberately didn't answer right away to piss Seokjin off even more. 

"What's wrong with it?" you asked, looking up. 

Your jaw dropped. 

You dropped your phone. 

Yoongi, your cat-man with excellent reflexes, made absolutely no move to catch it. 

It smacked you in the calf and hit your toes – fucking ow, holy shit – before clattering to the floor. You had a protective phone case on it with a cute tuxedo cat graphic. The screen wouldn't crack with the protector on it. In this moment, however, you didn't give a shit about your smartphone, Kim Seokjin, or even the blinding pain in your foot. Nope. 

You were ogling at Min Yoongi in pink silk pajamas.

-

We interrupt your regularly scheduled program to–

Oi!

No, don't you dare scroll past! You think you're clever or something?! Hm? Advertisements always happen at the most crucial parts, you say? 

This is just an ad? 

Look here, Lemona Vitamin C Powder can provide a lot of benefits, including providing natural energy and boosting your immune system in, say, a worldwide pandemic–

STOP TRYING TO SCROLL PAST!!!

-

Jeon Jungkook stared at his phone. 

At a very specific number. 

He put it down, sighing a little, looking out the window instead. It was a nice day, but he couldn't enjoy it the way it was meant to be enjoyed. Pandemic and all that. He frowned, looking at the urban jungle surrounding him. Had he made a mistake moving here to the big city? Sometimes he wondered. Back then, he had moved to finish school and pursue his ambitions. Back then, his choice had seemed full of opportunities, but now.

What did he have, really?

A tiny apartment with a kind and understanding landlord. The world at his fingertips from his computer. Still a decent amount of savings left. Online courses that he needed to finish to get his film degree. 

Loneliness.

He delved into his memories, smiling at the recollection of confused looks, awkward smiles, indignant huffs. So very unlike him to tease so much, but it was too fun and he hadn't felt the usual nervousness and shyness he had around others. There was something comforting about that smile, that apartment, and that fluffy tuxedo cat that loved to interrupt everything. 

He shouldn't have played it off.

He shouldn't have distracted.

Not after he admitted it.

"I like you."

Jungkook said it to the air, to the memory. So vivid that he reached out to touch those lips, but then it all disappeared, just like that. 

Ah.

He looked at the back of his phone, wondering. But now he was too nervous and shy to pick it up again. Why was that? When he was there, being seen by those surprised eyes, he could do and say shameless things. But far away, when he was alone, Jungkook was hesitating, suddenly afraid.

Sigh. 

-

You sneezed. 

Very loudly and jerking your head away from your cat-man in luxurious pink silk, jamming your nose into your elbow.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow. 

You sniffed, rubbing your nose. 

"Someone must be thinking about me..." you muttered. 

Yoongi looked down, plucking the collar of the pajamas. "The cotton shirts are the same size, but for some reason this one fits tighter. Why is that? Is there no regulated sizing in human fashion?"

Dude, be glad you're not a girl, you thought dryly. "Might be the fabric," you coughed distractedly. Distractedly because you were staring at quite possibly the most gorgeous man in the history of men and you stared at a lot of men in your short lifetime, so you had experienced eyeballs.

Wait. 

Man or cat-man?

Well, Yoongi was definitely the most gorgeous cat-man considering you were pretty sure there was only one in current existence.

His pointed ears stood straight up in interest, black hair messy from taking clothes on and off, fair cheeks and nose flushed pink, perhaps from physical exertion. Dark brown eyes sheepish, not quite looking at you. The black leather choker stood out on his neck, silver bell gleaming against his collarbones. The material was a mauve-pink silk, clinging to his lean body, showing off his shoulders and long limbs. The button-up shirt created a rather deep v-neckline, a sliver of pale chest visible. And his legs! His slim legs reminded you of a nimble dancer, ending in fuzzy black slippers. 

There was a weird lump in one of the pant legs, going down his thigh. 

Whoa. 

"W-Why did you pick them?" you tried to ask in the least awkward way possible, attempting – and failing – to not to stare at his delectable thighs. 

Yoongi shrugged. "They looked like the ones you have. I meant to get black, but I suppose I didn't read the listing closely enough. They're comfortable though," he mused before making a face. Your eyes bulged as there was a sudden jerk in his pants, creating a large tent in the crotch. 

Alarms sounded off in your head, arousal shooting up like a rocket. 

Oh. 

Oh??? 

Oh!!!!!!!

"My tail is stuck," Yoongi grunted, lowering the back of the pink silk pants. The sleek black cat tail slid out, swishing in the air, tent in his pants gone. 

Oh…

Right. The tail.

Because he's a cat... man.

Your inner thot was sad. Your dignity smacked you upside the head, highly disappointed in you for falling for that, then calmly shot down your arousal rocket with your shame. Oof.

"Can you show me how to sew so I can fix my own clothes from now on?" Yoongi asked as he readjusted the front of the silk shirt. 

You bent down to pick up your phone, trying to do something with your face and hands to disguise your embarrassment and burning ears. "Yeah, of course." You placed it on your desk and turned back to face him. 

Yoongi was right next to you. 

Literally so close that you could feel his body heat. 

"... Urk!"

You jumped in your seat, banging your knee against your desk and howling in pain, computer chair rolling and making you lose your balance, ass about to slip before Yoongi grabbed your chair and shoved it into the table, making you trip and fall back into the seat, head hitting the headrest a little too hard, seeing stars and rubber duckies for a second. 

Wait, were they rubber duckies? They were white and glittery, almost as if they were made from snow…

Yoongi slapped you in the face.

“Ow!”

You rubbed your cheek, blinking rapidly to clear your vision before glaring at him.

“Checking if you were alive,” was his placid response.

Alright, it wasn’t that hard, but the unexpectedness of it still hurt. You frowned, only for the pain to slowly melt away, quickly being replaced by something else as you realized Yoongi was still half-leaning over you, a knee on your computer gaming chair to prevent it from rolling. The sting in your knee was temporarily forgotten. Yoongi spoke again, his voice low and deep, almost a sensual purr.

“You hit yourself pretty hard.”

He doesn’t know what’s he’s doing. It’s just a coincidence. A kitty-incidence, Seokjin would say.

Your eyes widened as Yoongi closed in, peering at your unfocused gaze. Now you could see down his shirt. Holy shit. Were you so deprived that you were getting mad horny from seeing Yoongi’s fucking clavicle and sternum?

Is that even a question?

Yes.

Yes, you were.

“You look like you did last night.”

“What?” you breathed, still unabashedly looking down his shirt.

“Your pupils are dilated.”

You froze. His cool fingertips were on your neck.

“Heartrate increased.”

You wanted to pull back, say, no, wait, don’t do that, but Yoongi was too close and his exhale was too feathery, brushing against your lips, and you couldn’t move, trapped in your chair, between him wrapped in pink silk and your mind reeling, him still playing fucking doctor while you were trying not to jump his half-covered ass.

“And that smell.”

You finally tore your gaze away, eyes drifting up to his.

You swallowed.

“S… smell?”

Oh no.

Oh no, no, no.

Ohnoohshitwhatifhecansmellmypus–

Yoongi’s eyes narrowed, surveying you closely. He was so close you couldn’t see his lips, only his dark brown orbs. He didn’t say anything. He smelled like your soap, reminding you of his naked body pressed against you in the shower. Your heartbeat was leaping to your throat, threatening to choke you with your own horniness. Honestly, at this point, would you even be surprised?

You chuckled nervously, clinging onto your last shreds of self-preservation, which, admittedly, were rapidly yeeting out of your hands.

“Hahaha… but you’re… a cat… yeah?”

Right?

Seconds passed.

Right???

Minutes passed.

RIGHT???????

Yoongi’s lashes lowered, not quite looking at your eyes. Staring at your lips.

“I’m a man too,” he whispered softly.

Your eyes widened.

Yoongi kissed you.

You were so shocked that you swore your eyes nearly left your head.

It was a soft kiss, his eyes closed, tilting his head slightly to fit better against yours, pressing you back into your chair. Your head hit the headrest and you gasped, your tongue lightly flicking his lips and they parted, his own tongue sliding against yours, gentle licks, your brain malfunctioning, but body remembering, hands coming up to grab his shirt and yank him closer, pressing back against him. He backed up a little at your suddenness, exhaling hard. Your eyes snapped open, suddenly aware of how forceful you were.

Yoongi looked away, pointed black ears flicking back and forth uneasily.

You kissed your cat. Man. Cat-man.

He’s been a man for not even two days and you just tried to make out with him like a demented beast!

“A-ah, Yoongi, no, I’m so sorry, I-I… please, I didn’t mean to…” you stuttered, letting go of him quickly, but also not wanting to let go, but you should, your hands getting confused by your mental signals, repeatedly clasping and unclasping the pink silk, not realizing that he wasn’t even trying to move away.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Yoongi said slowly.

You clutched his shirt, staring at your white knuckles, unable to look at him directly.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… you’re so handsome, but I’m your owner… and I cracked…”

“What you are is a desperate, sexually deprived human.”

You jerked your head up, seeing his unreadable expression. “I-It’s been over a year–”

All of a sudden, Yoongi lowered his knee and grabbed you by the ass, scooting you down on the rolling chair. You yelped at the swift movement, gasping as your crotch collided with his thigh, wincing as you heard the squelch of your panties jamming into your soaked core.

Yikes.

Welp, you can’t hide that shit now.

“You like things like this, don’t you?” Yoongi murmured.

Your cheeks heated. “T…Things like w-what…?”

Oh, you knew what. You knew very well what, but you also couldn’t form coherent sentences.

His fingers sank into your ass and he pressed you into his thigh, rolling it into your heat. The whines tore out of your throat involuntarily, grabbing his arm and staring up at him with shaking eyes, seeing his curious gaze looking down at you.

“B-But, Yoongi… I’m your o-owner,” you panted, resolve slipping with every second, your hips already rocking into his thigh, the slippery thin fabric doing nothing to hide his lean muscle, your own thighs clamping around his leg. “I’m supposed to t-take care of y-you…”

And last more than two days, fucking shit, get it together!

But you couldn’t get it together, especially not as Yoongi’s voice dropped to a lower octave, one side of his lips curving upwards.

“It’s a little different now, isn’t it?” he drawled softly, lashes lowering, eyebrows raising, his black hair darkening his gaze. “Since I am now capable to take care of you too.”

You whimpered, losing it.

Just started freely humping his leg, self-preservation completely gone. Did he even know what he was capable of, really? Did he have any idea what he could do? Surely not.

Surely, he had no idea how good he could make you feel.

Yoongi bit the side of his lip, frowning. “How will can I make it feel better? I’m only cop…” He trailed off, furry ears anxiously flicking.

You tugged on his arm, getting his attention. “Angle your leg a little more downwards… Y-Yeah, like that…” He did as you instructed, his thigh now pressing down on your clit and your rocking hips moving faster, clinging to his arm and setting your jaw, moaning at the added pleasure. “A-ah… yeah, fuck… yes, I c-can… like this…”

“You can what?” Yoongi breathed, watching your face closely, firmly holding the armrests of the chair so it wouldn’t slide.  

Your head tipped back a little, bucking harder into his thigh, so wet your juices were soaking through your leggings and drenching the pink silk, turning it darker, the strong scent of your sweet arousal clearly evident. Your eyes drifted to Yoongi’s dark orbs covered by black hair, vision hazy, noticing the slight inquisitive upturn of his upper lip. There was no point in hiding it anymore.

“Can cum, Yoongi, fuck, I’m going to cum…” you moaned, inhaling his scent, his presence, saying his name and looking up at him, the stimulation and touch of another enough to get you there, eyelids fluttering as your orgasm swept down, taking you away and filling you with serene satisfaction, crashing waves soaring through you, washing away the sand of your dry spell, a different kind of euphoria than when you were on your own, pulling Yoongi close, kissing him deeply, breathing hard.

“Y… Yoongi…”

“Was it nice?” he murmured. “Was I what you needed?”

“Yeah…” You kissed his soft lips again, semi-breathless. “I–” The wave of guilt came now, your words dropping, brows furrowing, a sharp pang in your chest. Rising, rising. Panic. Yoongi lowered his head, black hair and soft pointed ear rubbing against your eyebrow, nuzzling your cheek. Once. Twice. Again, headbutting you lightly, smoothing the worry away from your forehead, a small laugh bubbling from your throat.

“What are you doing?” you chuckled, patting his arm, smoothing out the wrinkles you had made while furiously humping him. Your eye caught the dark mark now on one of his thighs. Welp. You lasted less than ten minutes.

Pink pajama Yoongi was dangerous.

“You liked this,” he mumbled. “When you were upset.”

You chuckled, instinctively reaching up and caressing his velvety ear. “You were a little smaller then.”

“Only a little.”

He slowed until he came to a full stop, dark eye staring into yours, cheek to cheek.

“I have to look after you, my clumsy human.”

-

part iv

--

masterpost

[dreamsinkandcoffee]

LoH Pride Parade Headcanons

Because this fandom lacks weirdly specific headcanons nobody really felt the need for, and I am too lazy to write a whole FanFiction about this. Some a bit more serious, some just silly. Modern Day AU, of course. Not all characters are here, if you want to add, feel free to! Enjoy!

Rosanna paid good money to get a boat decorated with rainbow colours and have it pulled from a car at the head of the parade. She has a megaphone where she screams colourful insults at anti-LGBTQIA+ people and Walther needs to stand beside her to make sure her anger remains at a manageable level. This is a celebration, Rosanna, please try smiling a bit more instead of being an angry chihuahua...

Aslan and Helga are the two very straight parents that go with their very lesbian daughter Alev because she really wants to, but big crowds and new things make her nervous. While they prepare for the parade (they got her a T-shirt with the lesbian flag! And pins!) Aslan finds out about the father that hugged people at a parade and decides that it’s an AMAZING idea, and gets a “Screw your homophobic dad, I’m your dad now” T-shirt and a “Free Dad Hugs” placard. Helga, after telling him he can’t go around hugging everybody at the parade, gets the exact same T-shirt and placard with “mom” instead of “dad.” They will be dispensing hugs at victims of homophobic parents and wil make Alev cry of joy many times during the day. She is very proud and feels very lucky.

Charles is the closeted gay with a homophobic and bigot family terrified of being found out, hidden under a cap and some big sunglasses and walking pressed like melted cheese in a cheese sandwich between his two very much huge companions Zaira and Krom. They don’t mind, because they both wanted to go and they love him very much (Extreme Mode anybody?), but none of them stopped to think that their own presence there is a dead giveaway that the guy walking between them is, indeed, Charles. Everyone stops to say hi, nobody understands that Charles was trying to hide his identity - it is hot as Hell, he might as well just be trying to defend himself against the sun! Shit will ensue when Astrid photographs him holding hands with Krom.

Speaking about Astrid, she somehow manages to be anywhere in the parade anytime her friends (or enemies, depends how you look at it, Joshua isn’t happy with being called her “friend”) do something cute or funny. She will print out a whole album that she will share with everybody, super proud of her work!

Joshua didn’t want to come but was dragged along and now basically anybody leaves him their bags and water bottles. ESPECIALLY Astrid and Solphi. Happy Pride, lil’ gay baby. He comforts himself looking at hot guys getting their shirt off because it’s too hot - do not judge him, he has been single since forever, ok?

Laphlaes is the parent with the overexcited baby that should be kept on a leash. He has to always hold Nine’s hand to avoid him running up to drag queens to touch their wigs or trying to steal snacks from other kids. Nine would actually prefer to be carried, because he wants to see more of the parade and being short doesn’t help with that, but Laphlaes doesn’t have enough strenght to carry him for so long. Also, while they prepared for the parade, Nine REALLY wanted a cool thematic T-shirt, so he and Laphlaes made one by hand with the colours of the non-binary and the trans flags on - and it says “My dad is also my mom, get over it.” Nine actually wanted it saying something like “Fuck you and your binary-parents” but we don’t shame other people’s gender identities in this house, Nine, and who taught you those words anyway?!

Mei Ling spends the whole pride on Dhurahan’s shoulders. Lairei got Dhurahan a T-shirt that says “Ally supporting the gays” and she finds it hilarious.

[erza-haninozuka]

Hi! So I had a thought for some ATLA headcanons but it involves AUs. Which AUs do you think fit the Gaang, including Zuko of course!

So I don’t know many AUs at the top of my head so I had to find a list in order to fully do this. XD If this inspires any fics/one shots please tag me or direct them my way if you create them.

Aang

Yogi AU. No one can tell me otherwise. The thought of Aang being a yoga instructor and having his own gym just fits.

Camp Counselor AU. I feel like this one may seem odd to others however throughout the series we see how he is around kids. Like he’d be the type to just have a lot of fun with them. He’d be their favorite too.

DRAGON AU!!! Just give me an even further fantasy vibe. 

Tattoo artist AU. I mean he’s inked up himself. I just really like the idea of Aang being a tattoo artist.

Zookeeper AU makes sense to me as well. 

Katara

Doctor/Nurse AU. I mean this comes hand in hand with her healing abilities. But she’d be one of the most respected people on the staff with her range of knowledge and skills.

Veterinarian AU. Something about this just fits to me.

Teacher AU. This one also just fits. Katara knew the best ways to teach Aang and even encouraged Toph to follow the flow as well. I really do think Katara would recognize the best ways to teach students and really care about them.

Modern AU. Now the reason I picked this wasn’t because of the typical modern AU. I picked it specifically because she would be one of those people who would travel the world helping others. Like building homes and helping farm. 

PIRATE AU PIRATE AU!!! This is mainly because if you’ve read the comics Katara and the Pirate’s Silver, it just makes sense. I really do think Katara would make a kick ass pirate. 

Gimme Life Guard AU Katara please.

Sokka

Out of all the marriage aus, I really think the Arranged Marriage AU fits Sokka the best. 

Give me Bodygaurd AU or even Bounty Hunter AU Sokka for reasons...

Fishermen AU. Sokka just owning his own shop and boat. I mean it just fits!!

Chef AU. He’s a man who loves food. You cannot tell me he knows his way around spices. He would be PERFECT for a chef au. 

Mechanic AU. This just hits different. Like we see how inventive he is throughout the series and even in the comics. He manages to break things or can’t really work on them that well, but in an AU where he can? Oh my god. I realy do just love the idea of him working on vehicles or being an engineer. 

Detective AU. Need I say more???

Brothel AU. Some are gonna be like whaaa? But if you’ve read Birds of Shangri-La this just somehow fits to me. Like whether he is the prostitute or the fluffer just fits to me. 

Toph

Artist AU. I feel like there’s come confusion with this, but something about Toph making abstract pieces full of texture just speaks to me.

Boxing AU is pretty self explanatory. She’s a bad ass woman who can kick ass.

Military AU. This does come from the idea where she was running her own Metal Bending school. I just enjoy the thought of her being in the top chain in the military commanding her own people. Plus how she talks down and is very brash just really fits this AU too. 

Genderswap AU. Something about this fits as well. Toph was never one for being super girly anyways and if anyone in the gaang was to be part of the trans or non-binary community I think Toph fits into this perfectly. 

Mechanic AU fits Toph as well. People might bring up that she’s blind. If she wasn’t blind or knew ways to work around this I really do feel this would fit her.

Hero/Villain AU. Give me villain Toph please. Something about it just hits.

Zuko

ABO AU. Give me Alpha Zuko please. Like him just being primal and giving into his instincts. YES PLEASE 

Now I have something about lumberjacks but for him it just didn’t fit so instead I’m giving him Fire Fighter AU. Like MY LOINS

Bounty Hunter AU. This just fits, I mean he was able to track the Gaang all over the world... 

Spy AU is for the same reasons as bounty hunter. However with this he would have different roles to play and I mean this one just makes sense as well. 

CEO/Boss AU. Zuko inheriting a corporation from his father. Like this company is corrupt and Zuko manages to turn things around. Just give me Zuko in a fucking suit please. He can use that tie on me and bend me over his desk.

Mafia AU. Pretty self explanatory and the idea of him being covered in tattoos just is hot to me.

Punk/Band AU. THE EMO AU FOR THE EMO BOY

[whoslaurapalmer]

so i never do this but i put a lot of thought into really specific details about the structure and scene layout of (the three-part folding mirror) and i really really really want to talk about it so here are some of my notes and some general commentary 

-the crux of the fic, at least the way i had envisioned it, is what vfd does to family, how it becomes biological family vs the family created by vfd

-what vfd did to specific families: -physically separated the calibans -morally separated the denouements and the snickets -somehow brought the anwhistles closer together

-in terms of ramona and olaf, ramona was there to stress the distinction of biological family vs. vfd family but also how they’re so inextricably intertwined with each other, and olaf, this is harder to tell bc he doesn’t have a point of view here, but olaf is scoping out potential candidates for his personal group of firestarters – his own sort of “family” (ramona bc she’s a duchess, ernest because he has a similar line of thought, josephine because her husband is working with the mushrooms, the white-faced women because, well they wind up in his troupe and I have very vague headcanons about how that happens)

-related; the reason frank asks olivia about miranda at the end is because, at that point in the fic, frank feels so terrible about what he said to ernest that he’s trying to reassure himself that his family is still okay because (dewey’s right) at least they’re together, compared to the calibans, who haven’t seen each other in years. it was one of the first ideas I had when I was jotting ideas down in april and it stuck with me the whole way through. I really wanted it in there. I went back and forth before I got to this plot, though, on whether or not frank or ernest would be the one asking it. but I think it fits frank. -(ahahahahahaha the kicker being that miranda really was at the party the whole time and olivia didn’t recognize her) -anyway 

-the parallels in the fic were: -the denouements start the fic together, and end the fic alone (by being honest about how they feel about each other) -the snickets start the fic relatively separated, and end the fic together (by being dishonest about what happened during the party) -the denouements start the fic by playing their game, and the snickets end the fic with theirs -frank is mistaken for ernest, ernest is mistaken for frank -frank pretends to be ernest on accident, ernest pretends to be frank on purpose -dewey has never slammed a door in his life; towards the end of the fic he slams the tray -i….think that’s all of them. I think

-character-wise, jacques and frank both see themselves as the people holding their families together; when in fact for the denouements, it’s dewey, which I think is clear in this, and for the snickets it’s lemony, which is less clear here? but definitely something I agree with -dewey and kit see themselves as the most ‘normal’, and they both have relatively solitary positions of acquiring information -ernest and lemony clearly both vibe on a ‘question vfd’ wavelength -i was also interested in kit and ernest, as siblings who feel stifled by an older/perceived older sibling, and dewey and lemony, who are sometimes unnecessarily protected by their siblings because they are the youngest/perceived youngest -this doesn’t show up in the fic bc olaf’s parents are still alive, but I thought ramona and olaf were also interesting foils re: reacting to their parent’s deaths

-some narration notes: -frank never refers to ernest and dewey as his brothers, except in the scene where he argues with ernest. because frank doesn’t necessarily see the split of biological family vs vfd family but has definitely swayed more to vfd family -ernest and dewey always refer to each other as brothers. -similarly, frank refers to the members of vfd as associates, most everyone else refers to them as friends. -ernest refers to vfd as strictly VFD because he’s distanced himself from it, while everyone else calls it ‘the organization’ -frank doesn’t swear even in his narration when he’s thinking them and not saying them because it’s, still his narration. he still wouldn’t quite completely say the words. (oh, he’s like gansey, like that. the raven cycle is still on my brain. i had so many scene sketches where ernest and frank were way too callous to each other bc they kept coming out like ronan and declan.)  -kit’s line at the beginning is “someone in this very room has betrayed us” which is jacques’s line from the building committee meeting in unauto. the clock saying wrong afterwards is because the someone who really betrayed them (lemony) isn’t in the room. 

-the costumes, which i did decide very arbitrarily: monty: clearly a snake. olaf: sigh. wolf ramona and olivia: oh, there was actually a slight distinction that just no one notices because none of them have looked at an insect (and also because describing clothes properly but succinctly is the hardest thing. i've written fic for a long time!!!!! i did my time in block paragraph clothing description hell!!! it haunts me!!!!!!!!!!), but ramona was the butterfly and olivia was actually a dragonfly. their masks are roses because, well 1) I thought that would be cool 2) butterflies and dragonflies land on flowers…. jacques: the boxwood, but a lion otherwise. josephine: ocean widdershins: the octopus with the pirate hat jacquelyn: the gold star suit (because gustav said she should do it for a play on. star. like. actress star.) miranda: uranus’s moon named miranda. it was very vague and I put that in the fic before I decided to have her in the little scene with esme. and then i thought i would put her in that scene too. gustav: phantom of the opera.  haruki: tree frog hector: tree (not because of haruki’s costume but because i literally could not think of a damn thing for hector to be) lemony: uhhhhhh I had vague ideas he was. a cloud or something. like a stormcloud???? couldn’t pan out though. I like him in grey anyway. kit: I really just wanted her in red. with a big cape. and i spent so much time mentally deciding if i wanted her to have glasses or not in the archives that i forgot to mention her mask. everyone has one i swear to god  white faced women: did anyone recognize that was them? :) it’s not mentioned in any way at all but in my head they were all dressed identically as flappers

esme actually doesn’t have one, because I, forgot, to give her one. I’m taking suggestions. 

-references to lyeekha’s fics: -“that which is essential is invisible to the eye” is what frank says to jacques at the end of edge, and also the title of their snicket/denouement series  -it initially wasn’t in there, because I was worried it wasn’t, like, in the right tone, re: what happens in edge vs how I was interpreting jacques and frank? but i liked it a lot. so i put it back in.  -“frank quit smoking, but you didn’t” is a reference to frank smoking at the end of rigged  -guess the guest and the clock alcove are from the end of fragments, with dewey and ernest watching hotel guests. this is my favorite thing in the whole world and something i actually keep forgetting is not canon because it is SUCH the perfect beethoven parallel  -kit’s tattoo, which I was specifically imagining as the giant bombinating beast tattoo from ink on her back, which is definitely not around her neck but that was the only spot of skin she was showing so it was available and my thought was, it was kind of a low-cut in the back dress, and she was wearing the cape to cover up the giant tattoo on her back because beatrice was not there to cover it up with makeup (also bea picked out the dress.) (bea: if I can’t be there you have to make a statement) (kit: I have to what) -lemony being a “powerful, mythical figure” to the sugar bowl gen was actually something I wrote a long time ago, back in 2013, and I put it in the fic because I thought it fit, and then happened to reread double edged VERY late into the rewriting, literally THE DAY after I wrote that line in, and i saw a similar line of thought, and I was like “*cooper voice* sometimes you just get lucky ~ ” -jacques being in a lion costume, from the masquerade outfit sketches

additionally – -yes I am still cackling about ‘angel of my apple’ -angel of my apple -ANGEL OF MY APPLE  -writing olaf is constantly like, he can say the funniest fucking things. and then turn around and say the absolute cruelest shit and the balance can be difficult.  -but, angel of my a p p l e 

-i can’t believe that out of all the people here, frank and jacques are the ones having the most semi-successful romantic relationship. well, ramona and olivia, too, but frank and jacques actually kiss so good for them -i know it was very vague and it’s because writing romance is physically embarrassing, but yes that last line was supposed to be them kissing, i’m so sorry 

-undercover underwater was a last-minute addition because I didn’t want to take the time to try and google something real and good because I didn’t have the time. my guilty pleasure is super shitty hallmark murder mystery movies (I like good murder mysteries as well, thank you.) and my mom’s been reading terrible murder mysteries during lunch (where I was sitting across from her, also eating lunch, but also hiding behind my laptop and writing the fic) so I just came up with undercover underwater on the spot, but my mom came up with the tagline. it was originally ‘sleeps with the fishes’ (especially because i love the godfather movies which also, clearly has a very big stress on family vs The Family) but I thought ‘diving for the truth’ was funnier. -my mom and my brother (who has no interest in shitty murder mysteries, but loves to verbally smack them down with me re: their predictable tropes) and I decided that the plotline was something like, single woman scuba dives and keeps running into stuff (you know, hidden treasure, dead bodies, the like); her love interest drives the boat; her overbearing family member is an aunt; this is definitely like, book four in the series. there’s probably twelve books or something. (she goes on vacation on like book six and still finds a dead body, come on it practically writes itself.) (she probably owns a little fish tank......it’s a small sunny beach town.........etc etc.........) (it’s so easy to do this.)  -oh, fixer upper is the worst hallmark murder mystery series, murder she baked is the best. in my opinion. 

-dewey and lemony were supposed to have an actual conversation at the hors d’oeuvres table but every time I tried to put lemony in earlier he just wouldn’t work. it didn’t feel right. so he got saved for the reveal. -but i’m still delighted by the idea of lemony literally doing the shot of gazpacho.  -dewey uses a spoon because he doesn’t have the composure or the guts to do a shot of cold soup  -lemony was also supposed to have a scene with kit and one with jacques, i’m pretty sure, to lead up to the gazpacho conversation and the commiserating re: siblings. but again, didn’t work out. so then dewey had to fare alone in the scene. -oh!! the line about how lemony hides, in the least likely places, was actually something that was in my initial write of lemony’s scrapped pov of my ellington fic. jacques being responsible for sending olivia to the hinterlands was from a scrapped jacques fic.  -steal from your unused fic. 

-because I had to take scenes with lemony out, I had some, gaps in the night that I had to fill in (especially because this is a party more people are there than the snickets and the denouements), so that was how esme, the herpetology squad, and olaf and josephine came to be. (also olaf needed to show up again somewhere else otherwise he kind of, disappeared awkwardly, I thought?) -also because initially there was going to be a scene of bea and bertrand, elsewhere, but I wanted to keep the fic contained to the hotel, because one of the ideas I wasn’t able to put into the fic all that much was the sense of the hotel being its own world -oh, bea and bertrand don’t know that lemony used them as cover. the assignment they were working on instead of being at the party? planning the opera. the scene would’ve come right after ramona and olaf’s conversation. -the herpetology squad not only serves to highlight that people can’t tell the denouements apart (part of the foreshadowing that ernest would pretend to be frank), but was also me roasting myself because writing like a million different characters I had never written like this before had me very concerned about if their characterization was consistent, specifically for kit. (specifically, her with dewey.) also defining a character down to one base trait can be helpful when writing and creating characters, but for people no it’s not ideal. -haruki’s estimation of the denouement’s traits were not how i was mentally keeping track of them, because i definitely do do the ‘one base trait’ sometimes, but i had a lot more going on when i was thinking of them -but yes dewey is kind. in the way that bertrand is kind, but bertrand’s like, way more smooth about it. 

-lemony does not have his own pov because, for me personally, I can’t fathom writing him in any other way besides first person, and it just would not do to have one scene out of the whole fic not in third person. unless he was secretly narrating each scene, which, he clearly was not. i would’ve had to do it in a whole different style. 

-i love that dewey and kit are like ‘ahaha we’re the normal ones though’ and their normal conversation is them literally going ‘hey these creepy fish are AWESOME THOUGH’ -i looked at so many fish. for hours.  -ALL BECAUSE I came up with the phrase ‘oceanic intrigue’ as a fun phrase and decided I had to commit my soul to it and never look back. -oh, the fairy shrimp are really very cute though. and i think the cookiecutter shark is, fucked up but a neat little guy. 

-i’m eternally going to be laughing about this too  kit: where the fuck is frank frank: /three floors down, making out with jacques

-oh!! 40-49 is unassigned in the dewey decimal system (which I googled. many, many times.), and was previously biographies. there’s another section for biographies now, but because biography was the closest I could come to like, some sort of, identity category, I thought it was more fitting if it was the section that used to be biography but was now as blank as frank felt.

-dewey is the one responsible for the clock sounding like it does. he just thinks ‘wrong’ is a fun word. that, and frank recognizing jacques by sound, were from my earlier scene sketches for this when i thought this fic was going to be much, much shorter. 

[ilguna]

Lacuna - Chapters 13-16 (f.o)

summary: they say the odds tend to favor those who need them. well, they were wrong.

warnings; swearing. MURDER, GORE.

wc; 10.3k

NOTES; I give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

-- CHAPTER THIRTEEN --

If this is what it’s like to be dead, then you don’t want to be dead anymore. 

First off, it’s cold as all hell in here. It’s like when you were younger and your brothers would throw you into the frigid ass water for fun in the winter. Of course, you could swim back then. Like every other person in district four, you had learned to swim at the sprightly age of four, probably younger. You start young when it comes to knots, fishing and swimming.

By the time you’re seven or eight you’re basically blending in with the water. Most kids by then can swim like they never left the water, they’re fish themselves. You used to race the kids back home all the time to see who could swim fastest from dock to dock. And those were like a quarter to a half a mile apart each. Every single damn time, you somehow managed to beat them. The runner up would always be at least thirty seconds behind you. On good days, more.

Fishing? Well, if you’re old enough to hold a rod then you’re old enough to get your ass sat on the boat. You can surely get something caught on the line, and then your parents would reach over and get the fish off of the hook for you. Then, you throw the sucker back in, and the process repeats. Really, they’re doing all the work, you’re just sitting there to keep the rod from going anywhere when something does tug back.

And knot tying is easy. Clumsy fingers get better as time goes on, but you observe until you’re eight or nine. You don’t start the knots until you’re nine to ten because the chances of the kids fucking up a perfectly good line with a bad line, is more common than you think. Even the prodigies are prone to messing up on the simplest ones. It’s fine though, they’ll learn it in the next couple years of their life, and soon they’ll be doing it in their sleep.

When they’re bored, they’ll ask for a rope or a wire to mess with so they can fuck around and tie knots. Practice gets you everywhere in this day and age, so there’s no better way to do it than when you’re bored. If you can do it without looking, then god damn, you might as well be teaching the others. Sometimes, you still catch Reed looking down to tie them, and he’s been doing it for over ten years by now.

The room is cold, and it only gets worse as time goes on. Sometimes, it’ll ease up just a little bit, but that’s rare. Every couple of hours, you’re certain. It’s not a constant feeling of the warmth of a goddamn grizzly bear snuggled right up against your side. You wish it was though, then you wouldn’t be shivering and chattering your teeth. They hit against each other, and you think that you’ll bite your tongue or chip one of your many teeth.

Not to mention the fact that it’s wet. There’s always the sound of water running, every now and then you’ll get a drop of water on your forehead or something. Furthering the fact that you’re cold. Who knew a single drop of water could ruin the temporary warmth that you’d falsely given yourself?

You, you guess.

“I-I-It’s cold as b-buh-balls in he-here.” you mutter, going to turn over.

The stabbing pain in your lower abdomen makes your eyes snap open, a muffled scream tries to leave your mouth, but a hand reaches over to place it over your mouth. Your entire body begins to ache. From your neck to your thighs. The left side of your face is swollen and your nose is very much crooked. It’s throwing you off.

When you raise your hand to grab the arm, you see that your own are littered in purple, blue and black bruises. In a panic, you shove whoever it is off, as you desperately tear off the sleeping bag without actually ripping it.

You know who it is next to you. You can see the wide green eyes staring at you in shock. His blonde hair is stuck to his forehead like he just came through the waterfall a minute ago. He’s in nothing but his pants, probably letting his jacket and shirt dry. You can already hear him asking you what you’re doing and he hasn’t even opened his mouth just yet.

“Woah--” Finnick starts, the second you unzip the jacket, pulling it off, “Are you cold? You might have hypothermia--”

“It’s not burning!” you snap, pulling your shirt up, and only then do you slow down for a moment. To see the shirt wrapped around your waist and the blood seeping through along with the bruises blossoming across your stomach, “How many of my ribs are broken?”

“I don’t know.” Finnick sits down now, rather than crouching, “I thought you were dead when I found you.”

You look to him, squinting, “When did you find me?”

“The uh--the night that two had died?”

“Very specific.”

“A couple days after Allio had died.” he tells you.

“Three days?” you ask, you’ve barely been keeping track, and now that you’ve been out for fuck knows how long, this entire thing has thrown it off balance.

“Yeah,”

“Who died? I only heard one cannon.” you mutter, zipping the jacket back up, and you notice that the jacket isn’t very breezy in the back.

Motherfucker! He’s tied his shirt around your waist and gave you his jacket. He has to be freezing, and he’s doing it to make sure that you get better. Or Finnick has an ulterior motive, he’s trying to win you back after he pulled that ass move and left you behind.

Finnick’s face twists with worry the second your eyes turn on him, “I’m sorry, okay? I couldn’t just stay there--”

“Like hell you couldn’t!” you shout, shouting hurts your side, but it’s a dull pain.

“Playing pretend? Playing house? I don’t know how you lasted for so long.” he says calmly.

“It was going well until they fuckin’ figured out that I killed Allio,” you sigh, propping yourself up on the rocks behind you.

“You killed Allio?”

“You killed the girl from six?” you mock.

“And Thyme.” he tells you, moving away from you now, and before you can ask, he answers, “Mercy kill.”

“Who died after that?” you ask, running your fingers over your nose. You’re not too thrilled when it doesn’t hurt as badly as you thought it would. It means that it’s setting. Your nose is going to be fucking stuck like this.

“Guys from ten and three.”

You nearly choke on your spit, “Blaire? Blaire’s dead?!” 

“Is that ten or three?”

“Three!” you cry, you can feel the frown on your face before it’s even settled, “He saved me from Lennox. If it weren’t for him, I would have been beaten to death. But I guess he felt like he owed me after I saved him from starving.”

“You saw him a second time?” Finnick looks over his shoulder.

“The day you left I saw him down by the lake or something, don’t remember exactly. Spent most of my time at the pond-lake and he kept showing up. My little bit of company.”

“Leave it to you to make friends in everyone you meet.” he mutters, you glare at the back of his head.

“Leave it to the fourteen-year-old boy to bail on his first alliance to deal with the career pack alone.” you pick up the nearest rock and hurl it at the back of his head for emphasis.

He groans, rubbing it and giving you a small glance over his shoulder, “Like I said--”

“I don’t want another apology.” you tell him, “Or an excuse.”

He doesn’t say anything, staring off into the water.

“Anyone else die?”

“Boy from eight.”

“Any of those kills yours?”

“The girl from eight on the first day, Thyme and the girl from six. Then the boy from ten and also the boy from eight.”

Quick mental math tells you that it’s five. He’s killed five so far, the same as you. Ten people that were in this arena have been killed by the district four participants. Everyone back home must be thrilled. You can’t wait for people to ask you what it’s like being a murder. It happened to Mags, it’ll surely happen to you.

And your response? You’ll ask them if they want to be added to the numbers.

“Damn. You know mine already.” you begin to push yourself up, and with all the noise, Finnick turns.

“What are you doing?”

“Fresh air.”

“You’re going to get the bandage wet.”

“Then I’ll take it off, it’s bloody anyway.” you begin with the jacket.

“Wouldn’t be if you stopped moving.” he mutters.

“I’m going to give you a black eye.” you threaten.

“To go along with yours? Along with that broken nose?”

“Finnick I swear to god, I don’t have a problem with stabbing you to death in here.”

He laughs, “You’re weak. Probably can’t even hold your arms above your head.” it’s quiet for a moment as you debate if you’re willing to prove him wrong, he adds, “That wasn’t a challenge.”

“It’s about to be.” you tell him, grabbing the bottom of your shirt as you very slowly pull it off. It starts in your ribs, and then slowly travels to your shoulders. When the rim--is that the right word?--of the shirt hits your swollen eye, you wince. 

“We’re in the third week, I think. Six people left. Four if it’s just me and you.” he looks over.

Final numbers.

“Well, good.” you say, but it’s not good. You’re covered in bruises, broken bones and a stab wound in your stomach. You’re useless. Finnick could have killed you in your sleep and you wouldn’t have known. It would all have been done for you.

Once you start kicking at your shoes, Finnick realizes that you’re serious. He moves over, untying the boots and then helping with your pants. He carefully unties the bandage, since you hadn’t touched it just yet. And then he takes off his own socks and pants so it won’t get wet. Might as well come back into the little cave with dry things to wear.

It’s daytime, you can see it through the water. You put one hand over the stab place, passing through the water. It’s a little hard on the head, from the gallons of water hitting your head. But as soon as you pass through, you’re heading for the pond-lake water.

“It’s salt.” Finnick says as if you don’t already know.

You slip in, and you can hear Finnick splashing behind you. Probably worrying that you’re going to end up drowning or anything. You can swim even in the worst conditions, he can go fuck himself.

Despite this, he holds beneath your arms, helping you into the water slowly. You want to leave the second that the salt water enters the wound, but you push through it. He can clearly see how uncomfortable you are, but allows you to continue. He’s smart, knows not to try and tell you what’s best for yourself. You need to be up and on your feet, running around like you’re good as new.

Not saying that you want to kill off the last four, but there’s no way that you can stay in here for another week. Another goddamn agonizing week of eating fish, drinking iodized salt water and shivering in a sleeping bag. It has to end, you’re hungry, you’re tired, you’re absolutely exhausted to your very bones.

“Mac, Trink and Lennox and whoever the last--”

“Girl from five.” Finnick interrupts, and you nod.

“Girl from five.” you agree.

“What about them?” his hands are very gentle on your sides, and they eventually fade away in the water.

“They need to--” you try, but Finnick’s hand really is ripped from your arm now, jerking you harshly. You’re about to complain, until he’s pulled beneath the water, sending water flying into the air, “Finnick?” 

How? How has he--you’re standing in the water! You’re fucking standing in it!”

You take in a deep breath, even though your lungs complain, following Finnick under the water. And you see the crevice he slipped into. A ravine in the middle of the pond-lake, and it goes down a while.

He’s reaching up for you, pointing to his ankle, and then making a stabbing motion.

His knife is on the seafloor, so you grab it. Something is holding onto his ankle and he needs you to save him.

You return to the top for air, knowing that it’ll be your last for a few minutes, and then you dive down. It’s probably not smart to have the knife sticking out from your mouth, or for it to be placed there in the first place, but it makes it easier for moving your arms. Before you know it, you’ve hit the crack, and you’re getting closer to Finnick by the second.

You take it out of your mouth, offering the handle to Finnick. His fingers graze it, and then he takes it after. Your lungs are burning, and you wish you could stay, but you’ll only drown. He’s working at his ankle, as you’re swimming up and occasionally looking down at him.

Then, he gets free, and he’s swimming faster than you are straight towards the top. On the way, he makes you wrap your arms around his torso, before he continues. When you’ve broken the surface, he’s gasping for air, you have a pounding headache, and it feels like you’ll never be able to hold air ever again.

“We need to leave.” you tell him, taking his arm as you pull him back to the waterfall, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, fine.” he tells you, and hisses when you take his hand instead.

You pull it up to look at, tilting your head when you can’t see anything, but then you bring it closer, seeing all the little cuts on his fingers, palms…

“Are you using vines?” you turn to look at him, he nods.

“How’d you know?”

“Because Blaire had the same cuts.”

“Sounds like you and Blaire were getting cozy.” he mutters.

“No time for jealousy after you ran off with Thyme.” you tell him, “the cuts aren’t poisonous I don’t think. You’ll live.”

“Thanks.” he says, “Hungry?”

“I guess.”

It’s a bummer that the pond-lake time was cut short. You were really looking forward for planning out the future. What you want to do as soon as you’re better. Mags has to send shit now, you’re awake and there’s no better way to heal your wounds than when you’re cognizant. 

You’re ringing out your hair, which has grown a little longer in your time of being in the arena, when there’s a series of chimes, stopping you. Finnick looks to the sky from where he’d been staring off into the water.

“What the hell?”

“Congratulations on being the final six alive.” The gamemaker tells you guys, you feel like this is a trap, and you reach for Finnick immediately, he takes your hand, “There has been a rule change. If you and your district partner are still alive, then both of you may be crowned victors in these hunger games.”

You turn to Finnick the same moment he looks to you.

The gamemaker repeats what he says, as if you guys don’t understand. But you heard him the first time. A loud, crystal clear rule change. Who else would miss something this big?

“We can go home.” You laugh, grabbing Finnick, “Four more people and then we can go!”

“Only four?”

“Only four.” You confirm, pulling him closer.

-- CHAPTER FOURTEEN --

The rule change benefits two districts only. There’s obviously yours, you and Finnick are very much alive. District four has to be celebrating at this exact moment. Mox definitely cried when he received the news, and Reed was surprised. You can see it now.

This isn’t the first time the gamemakers have made this change. Every now and then, when there are districts with two people left in them, they’ll make this change. The particular district that wins, brings home their two kids. Celebrations are grand, bigger and better. And it’s expected that the winners are especially grateful. After all, you guys are supposed to be learning from your mistakes your ancestors made.

It’s only happened ten other times in the last sixty years. It’s not allowed during the Quarter Quells, at all. Because those are the special events. The twenty-fifth they chose the tributes, the fiftieth they got double the amount, and in eleven years there will be a third one. You’re just glad that you’re going to be a victor now. So they can’t throw a huge twist like six kids go in or something.

The rule change is never predicted, it’s a random choice. There have been times in the past where someone was able to guess that it would happen. People found out the system on why they did it, and started to find their way around it. After having the rule change twice in a row, the gamemakers realized that tributes were manipulating it.

They would choose the couples. So when everyone was beginning to cuddle up with each other—except for the huge age gaps like the twelve year olds and the fifteen—it became more common. Again, they figured this out and stopped doing it. Now it’s a once in a blue moon sort of thing.

You got really lucky.

You know that Reed is on the edge of his seat now. He’s cheering you on harder, telling you more advice, even if you can’t hear it. He has to be driving everyone around him nuts, even himself. He’ll be afraid to get on the boat to fish because he doesn’t want to miss anything important, like you or Finnick dying. Reed will be counting on Finnick to keep alive.

However, if Finnick were to die, it’s not an automatic crowning to district one—they have Trink and Lennox still alive, which is why there’s a rule change—they have to survive the other tributes. Kill one of them, Trink or Lennox, it doesn’t matter, then the rules will revert. There will be one victor only.

You could still very much win, it would be a lot more difficult. You’ll be fighting against the four others to make it home. Trink or Lennox would have to be the first to go. To even the playing fields, if one of them is dead, then they can’t team up against anyone. 

District One will probably shower the brats with all the riches they can afford. You wouldn’t doubt it if they got special treatment from the Capitol too. They have so many goddamn victors, it’s annoying. There are constantly houses being built for a new victor each year. They don’t win? No biggie, they’ll win next year.

Four won’t get the same treatment as one, or two. You guys will get the houses, the infinite riches and the celebrations the same as everyone else. But it won’t be as grand, it’ll be like the other districts. Four is a career but four is treated like it’s one of the rich districts but nothing important.

Anyway, the rule change is very important. Keep you and Finnick alive, kill the others and go home. You need to wipe out Trink or Lennox, either or, doesn’t matter. And the others will fall into your hands eventually.

“These vines are insufferable.” Finnick whines, you look from where you’re sitting to see that his hands are completely raw.

“Stop touching it!” You kick his arm with your foot, before going back to the fish.

“I can’t, it needs to be fixed.” Finnick mutters, you get up, yanking the damn thing out of his hands before throwing it through the water, “Hey!”

“Mags will send us rope or something,” you tell him, going to look at his expensive ass gift in the corner of the cave, “And then we can make a proper net.”

“Do you even know how?” Finnick puts his hands into the water to wash them off.

“Didn’t I tell you already? Blaire taught me how. I’ll be able to make a sturdy net with some rope.” You tell him.

You take a moment, deliberating if you want to go through the water or not. But the music from a sponsor makes your ears perk up practically, and you’re stumbling through the water, trying to keep your balance from the force of the water. 

Mags has sent a couple of things since you woke. The first thing is the cream for the wound on your side. You’ve been applying it every night, and it’s done it’s magic. It’s nothing but a bright pink scar now. She had nothing for bruises, or broken bones. So you’ve had to tough it out.

Finnick got his gift a couple days after he had left, sometime during the second week. You hadn’t even noticed it until you and him went back inside after the rule change. To see the silver trident staring back at you. Finnick was all smug talking about how it had to have cost thousands. All you could say was that he could have done just the same with a spear. But he told you that it wasn’t the same.

Whatever, both of you have your respected weapons now. He told you his technique on how he killed so many. You listened as he informed you of the net, that he would throw over the people, get them trapped and tangled. Then he would come in with the trident and kill them just like that.

Unfortunately, with that technique, it meant he kept losing the vine-nets. He’s made four, and he was on his way to making the fifth. Finnick wasn’t too fond of the idea of untangling the bodies of the people he killed from the nets. So instead he just let the gamemakers take them, because they’ll be able to cut it apart and take the body after that. Plus, he didn’t want to take the chance of the gamemakers getting impatient.

But with a rope, no more tiny cuts in the hands. It saves time, it means you guys can kill more people with the light through the waterfall technique. It draws people in, he nets them, kills them, and then the process repeats. But the nets took so much time to make that it would be hard to get two in a day.

Finnick splashes through the water faster than you can. On the way, he steps on the vine-net, and he hisses. Jumping on one foot for a second, holding the other he whines about the thorns. And then he continues, wobbling on his feet slightly.

“This is why you wear shoes!” You tell him, kicking the vines off to the side, away from where either of you would bother to go.

“It’s the hunger games, I don’t need shoes!” He tells you, grabbing the floating sponsor gift. He brings it all the way back over, being careful not to let it touch the water.

It would be fine, if it can float in the water, then it can sink or take in some. It’s probably waterproof, actually. But you can say that you’ve ever seen a gift sent when the tributes were in the water. This is a first for you.

Finnick stands on the rocks next to you, and carefully unravels the parachute, and then opens the lid. It’s a fairly big gift, so when it shows a shit ton of rope, you cheer slightly.

“See! Told you—“

Finnick tilts his head, pulling up the paper. It’s sogs a little in his fingers since they’re wet, but it would be the same for you. Going through the waterfall had completely soaked you like you were swimming in the pond-lake like Finnick had.

“It’s from our district.” Finnick tells you, moving it so you can see.

And clear as day, it says, “This will work better than vines, District Four.”

Tears gather in your eyes and you have to cover your face for a moment, “Just a second.”

“Don’t worry, I’m crying too.” Finnick laughs, and you move your hands.

He pulls out the rope, weighing it in his hands, “Can this stand four more?”

“It could stand the entire twenty-two had we gotten it at the beginning.” You laugh, he joins in.

You look to the water, there has to be a camera on you somewhere, “Thank you, it won’t go to waste. We love you, and we’ll both be home soon, I promise.”

Finnick nods along, “We miss you tons.”

“Can’t wait to start fishing again.” You snicker, and Finnick punches your arm this time, “No but seriously, thank you.”

You and Finnick slip into the cave, being sure to cover the rope so it doesn’t get wet. When you get inside, you unravel the coil, and grab your knife.

“Gonna teach me how?” Finnick asks, you grin at him slightly.

“Sure. If you promise to be a good sport about it.”

—

If Finnick says that it has worked four times before, then it’ll work this time too, if the others will take the bait. The singles are probably desperate to wipe out the doubles so they’ll be able to go home. It’s the same tactic that you were saying before. They’ll be able to make it home if the doubles are taken out because they can’t team up.

The fire is like luring them to their deaths, almost. The both of you are prepared to take them down, and they might be thinking that you’re stupid for even trying a fire in the first place. Wondering how you’ve managed to stay alive so long with such stupid ideas. 

Instead, you guys are clever. You guys have got everything on lock. The fire, the net ready and the trident and spears within grasp if necessary. Unlike all the other times though, Finnick has someone to help. All it’ll take is for them to get caught and for him to stab. There’s no reason for him to even bother helping you with the net.

You’ve made it big enough for them to get caught in, and you didn’t cut the string for the rim. You pull it shut, there’s no escape, and they're tangled in the mesh. Finnick can get them within a couple of seconds, send the body off, and stomp out the fire. Make a new net, rinse and repeat.

“How do you like your fish? Burnt or extra burnt?”

“Preferably not burnt.” You look over to see that they’re practically black, “Remind me why I put you on cooking duty.”

“Because you were wallowing in your own misery?”

“Y’know Finnick, it’s really not that hard to not be a dick.” 

“Some girls think it’s charming.”

“I’m not some girls.” You huff, “But I’m guessing Thyme was?”

Finnick rolls his eyes before shoving the burnt fish your way, “I didn't like her like that.”

“Try again.”

“You are jealous.” He looks smug, again.

“Were you jealous when I told you that Blaire, boy from district three that I was hanging out with for a week straight, no supervision. Just me, him, the vines and the water were together? Him teaching me how to weave the vines, me feeding him so he didn’t die? Were you jealous then?” You tilt your head, watching as the smug falls and turns into something else.

“No.”

“Your voice cracked. You’re a fucking liar.” You tell him, “And by the way, it’s your own fault that I had to make friends with other people while you abandoned me. Leaving me to the fucking hounds.”

“You managed it seems.” He goes to eat.

“That’s not the point.” You tell him, “Partners in crime. An alliance! We were in this together!”

“At least we’re in it together now.”

“Yeah,” you mutter bitterly, going to eat.

It has to be only five minutes of silence, before the splashing of water interrupts you both. Finnick jumps immediately, kicking everything out of the way as quickly and quietly as he can. You take one final bite, getting a mouthful before the net is in your hands.

“Dumbasses.” It's a female voice, but it’s not Trink.

“Who?” you mouth to Finnick, and he thinks for a moment.

“Girl from five.” he mouths back, and then shrugs, “Trink?”

You shake your head.

The splashing gets louder as time goes on, and then you can just barely see her silhouette through the water. Finnick nods to you, letting you know that you should do it.

You get a little closer, hands through the water and then you toss it. There’s a yelp, and you yank the rope, trapping her inside. Finnick goes through the water.

“Wait!” the girl screams.

“Who’s the dumbass now?” Finnick asks, and then the cannon sounds.

Crouching down, you cut the rope, “You can send her into the water.”

“The careers--” Finnick barely gets out, you grab onto the spear. Your heart is pounding in your ears when you stumble through the water.

It’s just Lennox in the water, and he’s bearing a sword. When he sees you, he hisses, “Bitch!”

He turns to leave, but you raise the spear, going to throw it. Finnick grabs your hand, stopping you, “Not today.”

“I can hit him.” you reason, and Finnick goes to your ear.

“They’re going to want a show.”

He’s right, Snow will want a show. So, you’ll just have to wait for another time to kill them. It’s a shame, because you could wipe Lennox right off the fucking map, and all you’d have to kill is Mac and Trink.

When Lennox is out of sight, you send the girl from five off. 

“He knows where we’re staying.” you lean into Finnick a little.

“He won’t come until he’s prepared with Trink,” Finnick tells you, and you watch as the girl gets taken away. You wonder how the family is taking it. If you make it, then that means on the victory tour you’ll have to see their families.

For you, five to six--you’re not sure if the five girl will count as the sixth, since you didn’t kill her directly, you just assisted--different families you have to face. Stand tall and bear your chest and try not to cry because you’re guilty to the very last cell. You killed their family. You killed that twelve year old boy from twelve.

You killed the girl from ten, the boy from eleven, Eytelle, the boy from twelve and Allio. And now the girl from six. You’ve got five deaths on your hands, and you’ll have to face them.

Is it even worth it?

Yes, it is. You’ve gone all this way, you can’t just bow out of it now. You’re almost done, three more to go.

“I’ll go make a net big enough.” you turn, leaving Finnick outside.

-- CHAPTER FIFTEEN --

The sound of a cannon jolts you awake. Finnick, who’s beside you, jumps three feet in the air as he suddenly reaches for his trident. He creeps out of the only sleeping bag that you have, and he goes to the water. Before he can cross it, you grab his ankle.

“You’ll get all wet.” you whisper.

“I need to see.” he tells you, but he knows you’re right. So he strips free of his boots, socks, jacket, shirt, and pants.

He leaves it in a disorganized pile off to the side. Out of reach of any water that might backsplash when he walks through. You watch as he winces at the cold water, before disappearing. The faint sound of splashing allows you to calm down a little bit.

It would be a blessing to get up and follow him. So he wouldn’t be going out there alone, you’d be right next to him in case there is someone else. Ready to pounce and strike.

They know where you are, so sitting here, inside of this cave makes you feel like you’re trapped. At any given moment they could show up and you would be fucked. Especially with Finnick gone, there’s nothing you can do.

Whatever you caught while being in here, it’s bedridden you. Getting up and around is painful. It’s hard enough to sleep at night when it feels like a thousand tiny needles are jabbing into your stomach. It took you over two hours to fall asleep, and you can take a safe bet that you only slept for a couple of hours.

It feels like it’s only been a couple of hours. You should be wide awake, ready to help Finnick if he were to call for help, but your eyes are drooping. Begging for another couple of hours before your body realizes you’re awake and starts the pain. You don’t close your eyes, laying your head down instead.

The spashling has long since stopped. It’s almost pure silence, except for the sound of cicadas and the random shuffling of leaves. The water is a constant, you’ve managed to drown it out by now. Not even background noise, it’s silence due to the consistency. However, you can hear the waves, coming up onto the shore of the rocks nearby.

You try to focus on them, hoping that there will be an irregular rhythm, but it turns out that they too have their own system. Before you know it, your eyes have closed on their own. You grind your teeth to keep yourself awake, it doesn’t work. Your jaw will go slack and it jolts your awake almost.

With a sigh, you push yourself up. Your muscles complain, and you’ve already stirred something in your stomach. Ignoring it, you begin pulling off your own boots, following with the socks.

You strain to hear any sort of sound that would indicate that he’s alive. Water splashing, heavy breathing, the trident accidentally hitting the rocks, but you get nothing.

The clothes come off a little faster now, socks, jacket, pants. You take a breather because the shirt is going to cause more pain that it’s worth. When you feel like you can tolerate it, two hands on the bottom of the cloth, and a quick movement. 

The stabbing appears, and the lines are blurred between your still very broken ribs or the sickness in your stomach. When the shirt is off of you, and you have a moment to breathe, nausea hits you like a truck. You place your hand on the wall to steady yourself, thinking that the cold will jolt your brain.

It works a little bit, but the idea of you puking is at the front of your mind now, unwillingly. You can’t puke, it’s taken you days to work up an appetite. Whatever you have has completely gotten rid of hunger, which is making you drop weight. Finnick can see it, you know.

He gets this worried look in his eyes each time he watches you get up and move. Or try to choke down food, even if it makes you gag. He probably isn’t on your back about it because he knows that you’re trying. You’re not trying to be bedridden, you’re not purposely starving yourself. He knows you want to live, and you guess that he’s waiting for the moment you give up.

It’s charming for him to be worried like that but it makes you feel like a baby. If you wanted to be babied, you would have acted like this since the beginning, even if you weren’t sick. Being incapable of taking care of yourself isn’t a trait that you want in here. Doesn’t get sponsors, at all.

As you get up, you feel like you’ve gained forty years of age. Your muscles are aching, everything hurts in general. The dizziness and the pounding headache comes back. Besides this all, you reach over for the spear, using it as a cane as you hobble your way out of the cave.

The water is cold, and once again, the force of tons of water hitting you nearly knocks you off your feet. On a regular day, sickness and injury free, you would be able to walk through this like it’s nothing. Look at what time has done to you. Made you the goddam laughing stock of the pen.

It’s still dark out, the moon is fairly high, you guess that it’s midnight to one in the morning. It’s an odd time for someone to die, unless Trink and Lennox we’re hunting down Mac or something. Could be the other way around and got himself killed. Mac killed one of them, got away. One of them died of the same sickness you have…

Possibilities are endless here. There’s hundreds of ideas they could have used on you guys. You just want to know what’s so special about midnight, if the gamemakers had done it. Maybe all of you are having trouble sleeping and this is their way of torturing you guys. Subtly, and with sacrifices.

There’s no sight of Finnick, anywhere. Even though you’re already soaking wet, you’re not too fond of the idea of going into the water. The night time is when the creatures come to life. If Finnick had gotten grabbed, then that’s it for him. You can’t go in to save him blind, the automatic right to the win would be given to District One.

You sit in the cold water, knees to your chest as you look over the water, and then the nearby trees. Then to the sky as if they’ll display whoever it is that died. You’ll have to wait tomorrow to see, unless that’s what Finnick is doing.

If he went to the cornucopia by himself then he’s stupid. You get the motive—he goes to see if Trink and Lennox are there, then comes back without being seen—but he’s half naked, soaked in water with a metal trident. The motherfucker is probably slipping and sliding out of his hands. 

You sit out there for another ten minutes, no longer tired, splashing the water onto your stomach every now and then to ease the pain. Eventually, you hear splashing that isn’t coming from you. Your eyes dart over, and you see Finnick, trident in hand as he wades through the water. He makes stabbing motions to keep the creatures away.

“Sorry, I didn’t think I’d be so long.” Finnick tells you, “But it’s hard to leave when they’re talking about an attack plan.”

You perk up, “You’re forgiven, what did you hear?”

“Well, Mac is the one that’s dead.” He tells you, but you guessed that already. The psychopaths from district one are smarter than whatever Mac did to die.

“That’s fine.” You tell him, “A bummer, he was nice. But fine.”

Finnick chuckles, he takes a seat next to you, and then presses a quick kiss to your lips. You scowl, because you’re not looking forward to him getting sick too. But really, he would have had to be sick by now if it’s contagious. What the fuck did you get sick off of?

“They want to attack in two days. Build up on body weight and all of that again. They don’t know if we’re the ones that are dead or killed Mac or whatever. Taking a guess it was Mac that died at least.” He informs, you nod along to it. 

“Two days to plan their murder, huh?” You quirk an eyebrow at him and he chuckles.

“Any ideas?”

“A few.” You admit, a small smirk coming over your face, “Remember how Lennox choked me?”

“Wasn’t there but yes.” He says, crossing his legs.

“And my last name is Gallows…” you trail off, splashing water a little bit.

“Uh huh.”

“What if we take that extra rope, tie it into a noose, lure him in and hang him?” You look over to see him with the same sickening grin that’s covering your face.

“Sounds interesting. Who’s luring and how are we hanging?”

—

Finnick has to watch you way more carefully now. One of your hands are either on his shoulder, so that you may catch yourself in case you stumble. Or it’s in the crook of his arm, where he’ll be able to swoop you into his arms if your legs buckle beneath you. The sickness is eating away at your muscle.

There are times when you’ll be standing, perfectly fine, and you’ll forget about the illness altogether. And then, your legs will give out, Finnick is diving across the room to catch you so you don’t snap anything like a wrist, trying to catch yourself. Your body will slump, like you’re lifeless, but you’re so very aware of it.

It’s scaring him now. He doesn’t think you’ll make it out alive, he thinks that you’ll die in here, from whatever you caught. You’re not hungry, you gag and throw up most of the food you get down. The lack of exercise is diminishing what little muscle you came into the arena with. There’s a high fever, you’re sweating almost constantly, but then the chills will swoop in out of nowhere. Not to mention the round-the-clock headache. 

You want it all to stop. You’ve never got this sick back home, it was the common flu that went around. Only the very, very poor, skinny kids would die to it, since their immune system can’t handle anything. But that’s hardly ever the case, even the poorest people in the district have a fair chunk of change to carry around.

If you’re going to die from whatever Capitol-altered disease, you’d just have it done in a snap. It’s been almost a week of you having it. And the fact that it had gotten so bad overnight is not a good sign. It was just earlier this morning, midnight when you were conspiring with Finnick on how to end this.

It evolved and it’s completely ruined your body within an eight to eleven hour time span. This means that today, tomorrow, or the day after are your final days. You die tonight, it just leaves Finnick to deal with the others. You can’t do that to him, you can’t send him home alone after all that has happened.

You’re not going to give this up.

“Eat.” Finnick shoves the fish into your hands and you take in a small breath, to keep your side from being stabbed. 

“Finnick this won’t stay down.” you tell him calmly, but you pick it apart anyway, using the water to drink it down.

And then you stop as you stare at the water, then back to the fish. There’s only really two ways you could have gotten sick. It wasn’t because of Blaire, he was healthy as fuck, and the only reason why he died was because he attacked Lennox while he was trying to kill you.

You couldn’t have picked it up from Trink, Allio or Lennox--assuming that it had some sort of incubation period--because that means they would have to be crawling with the disease too. From what Finnick has told you, they seem to be just fine. You’re the only one dying in here. 

Finnick is an automatic no, he isn't sick either and he isn’t catching it. Another reason why you couldn’t have caught it from the others, is because it doesn’t seem to be contagious through human contact.

Which narrows down the possibilities. You got it from eating berries and leaves, fish, or the water. You haven’t eaten berries and leaves in a while though, so those have to be out of it.

It’s the water and the fish, they have something to do with it. It can’t be an allergic reaction, because it doesn’t deteriorate the body like this. If it was a reaction, then you’d be breaking out in hives, through closing in and you’d been dead by now. Unless it’s a small allergy, but that’s not the case either. 

“Finnick, what are some diseases passed through water?” you ask, slowly setting the food down.

He tilts his head slightly, “Uhh, E coli, Cholera, Typhoid, Salmonella--? Why?”

Typhoid is the one you recognize, because of the few cases some of the neighborhood kids back home had. With the right treatment, they wouldn’t die, but for the few who let it go on for too long, or didn’t have the money to pay for it, their kids--or themselves--would die. 

“The symptoms to…” you lean back, “What’s the--?”

The headache seems to increase, stopping you from thinking any further. You press the heels of your hands to your temples to ease the pain. Of course, it does nothing, but it feels better than just sitting there. You clench your teeth and squeeze your eyes, rocking back and forth.

Think, think!

What the fuck is the cure to Typhoid? Hell, what are the symptoms? What’s it related to? How can you get it?

“(Y/n)? What’s wrong?”

Few cases back home. Parents who go down to the sea to collect water. Use for baths, and the kids accidentally drink it. It’s not the salt its--its the bacteria.

“Water,” you look to Finnick, “Have you been treating the water?”

His face twists, and then he pales, “I--I forgot once--”

That’s enough for you to catch it. Just a little bit of contaminated water will get it going. Your body has been fighting off this sickness for a week, and it took you this long to think it over. 

That’s not the matter, though. The matter, is that if you don’t get medicine, you’ll die from it being untreated.

“Mags, if you’re listening--it’s Typhoid fever,” you tell her, “Untreated it’ll kill me. Please, please send me something. Whatever it is that’ll cure it. One pill or sip is better than none, please.”

Finnick looks guilty, but you don’t care. It was an honest mistake, he didn’t know that the water was carrying the disease. None of you would have ever knew if he hadn’t accidentally skipped it. You’d still be up on your feet moving around like none of it ever happened.

This must be what he’s thinking, “Finnick, don’t punish yourself for this. Not now, do it later when we win.”

“What if we don’t win because of my mistake?” he asks, you point your finger.

“Hope. You have hope now, because I can’t carry it for the both of us. I forgive you, we’re going to win.”

Silence, as you wait for the sound of a sponsor gift. But the chiming never sounds, letting you know that you’re on your own. It must be far too expensive, or they just can’t hear you.

“We have better things to worry about, Finn.” you shake your head, “We need to do it tomorrow. We can’t wait until the end of the week.”

“I know.” he whispers, “Are you sure?”

“We have to.”

-- CHAPTER SIXTEEN --

There used to be a song that your mother would sing when you had caught the cold. It was more of a poem, but she would sing it like a lullaby to ease your headache and get you tired. It would always be the first couple nights of the cold, which are the worse days, and as it got better, she would stop. A bedtime remedy, to getting you to fall asleep quickly instead of letting you toss and turn through the night.

As you lay awake most of the time now, you think of it all the time. Reciting the words back to yourself softly. You can’t necessarily sing it without waking Finnick, so instead you turn it from a chant to a couple of lines at a time. You decipher the words, find meanings and then you’ll repeat it back to yourself when they make sense. 

It tires you out a lot quicker than you thought it would. Lately, it’s been working like a charm. Tonight, it offers no comfort though, because later today, you’ll be luring the last two tributes to their deaths. You’ll be using the last of your strength to win the games. If today doesn’t work, you give yourself permission to fall over and croak.

You’re in the final hours of your life. Finnick might be seeing it, but it’s not as clear to him. He’s not feeling all of it directly, he’s watching you pretend. He’s not seeing the way that you flinch and wince when his back is turned. If only he saw how much pain you’re in. 

The second you win, you’ll be fine. You’ll be on that hovercraft, they’ll be feeding you to doctors as Finnick has to watch. They’ll be hooking you up to water and liquid food, and medicine that stops the pain and diminishes the fever. They’ll be working their best to save you, because they can’t have a victor die on the craft. 

Finnick wouldn’t need anything done to him. They’d probably take him and marvel. They’d have to fix up a few scars but that would be it. There would be no reason to save him from anything. Unless something goes wrong today, he gets stabbed or something. Not going to happen on your watch, even if he doesn't like it.

The sun rises a little faster now, and you come to terms with the fact that you'll be working off of nothing today. There’s a few things to do to set up the scene, and then you’ll be able to execute it perfectly. 

“Finnick.” You nudge lightly, he opens his eyes slowly, “It’s time.”

“Did you even sleep?”

“An hour or two.” You tell him, “Woke up an hour or so ago. Not much.”

“Okay,” he says, you slip out of the bag first. Your muscles slowly stretch, making a low groan come from you. You’ve been stiff for long enough, your body thinks that you’re a statue.

Finnick slowly starts pulling out food, you make the last fire you’ll ever have to make in your life. When it sparks, your hands go over it immediately, the fever might be burning your forehead, fueling your headache but it’s also controlling the chills. The truth is, is that you’re cold as fuck. When you leave, the water will make it worse. But you’ll get there when the time comes.

The both of you heat up the food, watching as Finnick uncoils the rope, trying the noose. You don’t ask him how he knows to tie it, you just watch, and then you prod yourself a little bit. Taking in an assessment of how you’ll be able to turn your body.

Your ribs on your left side are still very painful, turning that way is like getting stabbed. It’ll take a while for them to heal, unless the Capitol has something for that, to get it to speed up and get placed right back where they need to be, not floating around in your body, causing more harm than good.

The bruises are almost gone, they’re just a very light purple now. Pressing on them doesn’t hurt anymore, it’s nothing compared to everything else that you’re feeling. Your body as a whole is weak, so there's no worry about specific knees or arms, it’s just the both of them. Not good, but you won’t have to catch yourself before you use the wrong one. You’re always taking a chance.

All cuts are now scabs, there’s a few more scars here and there, but besides that, you’re ready to go. Finnick finishes eating pretty quickly, you guys finish off all the food that you had set aside. You feel absolutely sick to your stomach, since it was hard getting it down in the first place. Overfeeding isn’t helpful by any means, until you’re trying to put on weight.

If you guys get hungry later on, it’s possible to grab something from the pond-lake or whatever. You’ll be inside of the woods, near the middle, but it won’t be that far from the pond-lake if lunch would be needed. But by the look on Finnick’s face, he’s not that hungry either. He stuffed himself just as badly as you had. 

He shoves everything into the backpack. The rope, what water you guys have, which he still looks guilty about. Small meaningless knives that you don’t need, the works. After that, he helps you onto your feet, you both take your weapons of choice, and leave the cave.

There was no point in stomping out the fire, you guys won’t be back. Which is why you guys left the sleeping bag, and all the other little things that came with the backpacks when you got them. For all you care, they can burn up in a blaze. The fire will put itself out before it reaches the water.

Finnick leads the way through the water. Instead of going straight out of the waterfall, a little to the left, you guys go right diagonally. If you were to go straight, you’d head right for the cornucopia. You guys want to do it in one of the big ass trees, out of sight of them in case they were to come looking.

You hold Finnick’s trident, as he holds the backpack above the water since it isn’t waterproof, and you guys don’t want the rope to get wet. You’d rather it be dry, it’ll be more harsh when it gets around Lennox.

“Almost home.” 

“We should have built a treehouse. I mean, it’s been a month, we had the time.” You laugh, he snickers.

“Gamemakers would have had a fire.”

“Wouldn’t have been smart. I’m sure that the tourists would have loved to stay in a personalized treehouse! Oh Finnick, do you think we have time?” You bat your eyelashes when he looks to you, he rolls his eyes.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You can hardly stand.” 

“So? It won’t be so hard.” You reason about the hypothetical treehouse, daydreaming about having one. What would go inside, how much time it would take. How you would replace materials like nails with vine and all that. Or very thin rocks that you can hammer into the wood.

“No treehouse.” Finnick tells you, and then the both of you laugh at each other.

When you reach the land finally, you guys take the time to ring out your clothes. Then you continue to the place that Finnick had picked out last night. When you get to it, you’re thoroughly impressed to see that it’s a big ass tree, and there’s plenty of land around to run around in. This is a place you could build a house, raise a family and all of that.

Finnick unpacks the rope, you take it, throwing it around your neck to keep it from going anywhere. You tuck your spear between your pants and belt, with the blade down. You take your water and put it in your jacket, Finnick kisses you quickly, wishes you good luck, and then you turn to the tree.

Spear, rope, water, a good luck kiss. Now, to climb the tree without falling. Your body will complain and give you hell for this, but it’s all for the greater good. 

You climb the tree slowly, being careful of your left side. Right hand, left hand, right foot, left foot. Occasionally you’ll reach higher than you should, wobble, but catch yourself the next time around.

The spear gets in the way and you have to keep moving the water to where it needs to be. You take a break on the sturdy branches, and continue when it’s just enough to make it to the next one.

Before you know it, you’re at the one branch that stretches over Finnick below you. You wrap your legs around the branch, and even go as far as to tie the non-noose end of the rope to your body. Then, you strip free of the jacket, dropping it for Finnick. The boots follow, and you’re disappointed to see that he dodges where you tried to drop it on him.

“Pants too?” You ask, Finnick shakes his head.

You take a long drink of water, since the sun is in your eyes. And then you take another before dropping it for Finnick, setting up the scene where Trink and Lennox will come along just to die.

Lennox is going to be heavy, he’s had plenty of food to eat from because of the middle. He’s going to weigh what he normally did when he came in. Maybe a few pounds shorter. You however, aren’t at all where you need to be. 

The big breakfast helped, but it wasn’t perfect. You’ve got one, two, possibly three pounds more than you had originally. You’ll fail when it comes to pulling Lennox up with the rope using just your muscle strength. To actually hang him, he’ll need something to balance out his weight, almost.

He’s going to be below you, you get the noose around his neck, you yank and what? Choke him for a split second? Finnick will be fucked.

You didn’t propose this part of the plan to Finnick because you knew he would say no. He won’t ever say yes to something this dangerous and risky, which is the exact reason why it’s going to work. Risky, but odds in your favor.

“I’m ready.” Finnick tells you, you nod.

“Let’s do it!”

You cut yourself free quickly, then you measure out just about what you’ll need to fall through on this. Your eyes keep darting to Finnick, worried about when he’ll yell.

You drape the extra rope across the branch behind you, out of sight out of mind. The noose rope is shorter, but still long enough to reach Lennox. Finnick comes over now, standing right next to it, and nods up at you. Perfect length.

It’s going to get shorter though. You tie a constrictors knot, which will be impossible for the Capitol doctors to get off of you, but they’ll manage. They have to save you, and your leg if it’s possible. If there’s no reason to cut it off, then they can’t. It’s not a medical problem, it’s rope.

You dangle your leg, seeing how it reaches the same height as before presumably. Then, you draw some of it back up to keep out of sight of the others when they come in.

Just in time to listen to Finnick give a blood curdling scream. You clench your teeth together, eyes on the direction the others are going to be coming in at. Listening as Finnick continues to scream for your placebo self to wake up. Yelling for Mags to send in some sort of medicine, to save you.

“Please! Please!” Finnick screams, and at the first snap of a branch, your eyes flicker to Trink and Lennox, “No—!”

“She’s not dead yet?” You think you hear Trink ask.

You wonder if the Capitol can spare a false cannon to see what happens. If they’ll attack him immediately, like a bunch of rabid dogs.

“Leave her alone,” Finnick seethes, he’s crouched over, backing up which is drawing the others to walk over. You can see the smiles on their faces from here.

“I’ve got him.” Trink chirps.

“No!” Finnick lunges forward slightly when Lennox gets close to your body, you begin to lower the rope little by little.

Lennox jumps for your body, you can feel your heart pounding in your chest when you free the rope. Only to see it come up short.

“Shit.” You curse, and then you dip your leg over, getting it right around Lennox’s neck.

Finnick attacks Trink, who’s caught up watching the rope. She goes to warn Lennox, but Finnick shuts her up.

Before Lennox can do anything, you take a deep breath. Feeling the fear try to paralyze your body into rethinking this. You don’t let it, you throw your body the opposite side, to the left.

Lennox chokes, you feel the air on your skin as you watch the branch of the tree get further away. Until the momentum comes to a slow, and you’re dangling in the air by a rope from your foot.

You look to see Lennox, face turning purple as he grabs onto the rope to relieve the pain of choking, you curl your body slightly, pulling him up a little, and his eyes bulge. The sound of a cannon startles you, because it’s clearly not Lennox, who you’re staring at, and he’s staring at you. Still alive.

You go to yell Finnick’s name, but it gets caught in your throat. The blood is rushing to your head, the headache increasing in power. The pain just seems to skyrocket the longer you hang here.

“I’m alive.” Finnick tells you, and then you watch as his trident flies through the air.

It misses Lennox by an inch or two, getting lodged in the tree. You sigh, reaching for your spear now. You don’t want to get yourself free. You want to kill Lennox, and you’re sure that it will be a sight to behold, him hanging from a tree, with you suspending him on the other side, a spear through whatever you can get. 

With it in hand, you lean forward, your left side aches from the sit up. You and Lennox lock eyes, and he shakes his head slightly, beginning you not to even though his face is a deep purple and blood is coming out of his nose, trickling down his lips.

You draw your arm back, waiting for the rope to stop swaying, and then you launch it forward, the very last of your strength going along with it. You’re not even able to see if it goes through anything. The sound of a cannon gives it away.

“You did it!” Finnick yells, but his voice is drowned, you can hardly hear it.

You can feel your body relax, arms going past your head. You try to blink away the spots, but they don’t go anywhere. In fact, they take out your vision completely. 

—

I told her so, and if she say,

That she was wrong,

Then may it be,

A quick little bug,

That will come and go.

—

She will lay,

In clean, white sheets, 

A full tummy,

And a cup of tea,

She will rest,

And she will think,

How this will be,

The very last time.

—

But here comes grey,

Water-filled clouds,

She pulls on her shoes,

And her coat,

So that she may,

Go in the rain.

—

I will come,

To the porch,

To warm her of,

What may come,

She will laugh, 

She will splash,

But she won’t listen.

Then she will come later with;

Rain-soaked clothes,

Not feeling good,

And beg me to care for her.

(the poem is a circle).

--

LACUNA IS THE FIRST VERSION OF BELAMOUR

//MASTERLIST//

[hasquetzorkukudoneanythingwrong]

Pretty lies, ugly truths

The control room had detected a new singularity. This one was located in the spanish capital of Madrid in modern day.

Da Vinci: we can't detect much about the singularity itself, it seems that there's a powerful magical field around the whole thing.

Rex: well fuck... will we be able to even communicate?

Sion: we'll work on making communications work while you're out there but for the beginning you'll be on your own.

Rex: ugh...

Gordy: you'll be able to handle it, can't be that bad of a singularity right?

Rex: I feel like you're jinxing us.

Da Vinci: regardless, this one's a big one. It needs to be handled soon!

Rex: we'll handle it!

Chaldea was sending in Rex, Quetzalcoatl, and Mash Kyrielight into the Madrid singularity to handle things. Soon the three got into their coffins and rayshifting commenced.

3...2...1!

Once they were inside the singularity, they noticed something odd... it was snowing heavily.

Rex: holy crap... that's a heavy snow...

Mash: yes, maybe the snow is what's interfering with the signal.

Quetz: does that mean it's a magical snow? Like in sca- Ugh!

Out of nowhere Quetz doubles over in pain

Rex: Quetz!

Rex runs over to help but before he can something interrupts them.

???: Weigh Anchor!

Out of nowhere a huge ship appears in the streets of the city, heading towards the group

Mash: Senpai!

Mash moves to shield Rex and Quetz from the ship but ends up knocked away along with Rex

Rex: fuck!

Then coming from the ship, chains appear binding Quetzalcoatl, who was too weakened to be able to break free

Quetz: que?! What's going on?!

Rex: Hey! Let her go!

???: finally! We've been waiting for you for a long time!

Quetz: huh?!

When the group looked up at the ship, they recognized it. It was the Santa Maria that Columbus captained. But the man on top looked different.

Columbus?: I'm so sorry Missy, but the boss needs your spirit origin. And what the boss wants, he gets.

The man dressed similar to Columbus but looked much younger and less sinister.

Rex: who the hell are you?! Let go of my wife!

Columbus?: you don't know who I am? Well... then again... I guess you've become accustomed to the real me. Alright! Listen up laddy! Because this will probably be the last name you hear about before die!

Rex and Mash looked up at the man, both angry at the bastard.

Columbus: I am Christopher Columbus! But specifically I'm the Columbus you were told about in your schools! The heroic traveler who against all odds managed to discover America! I'm not the horrible schemer and slaver you're accustom to!

Rex: so you're the lie we were fed as children to justify your farce of a holiday?!

Columbus: rude way to put it but yes! Now if you'll excuse me!

The man snapped his fingers and out came an army of men clad in red appeared.

Rex: what the-

Mash: senpai! That's the spanish inquisition!

Rex: seriously!?

Mash: looks like them!

Columbus: that's right lil lady! Anyways, I'll be leaving you to them while I take this lady back to the base! Seeya!

The boat leaves, with Quetzalcoatl inside, unable to do much.

Rex: DAMN YOU!!!!

Rex wanted to make chase but the inquisition members blocked him off

Soldier: give it up master of chaldea! You do not stand a chance against the inquisition!

Rex: fuck off asshats!

In all his Fury Rex blasts fire at the soldiers, while Mash fights them off with her shield.

Mash: senpai! There's too many!

Rex: to hell with that! We've faced worse odds and came out fine! I'll be damned if I let them get away with my wife!

But the odds really were looking grim, until suddenly the snow intensified around them, mostly focusing on the soldiers.

Soldier 1: ack! The snow! What's happening!

Soldier 2: must be that damned ice queen!

Rex: ice queen?

Then from behind Rex and Mash, another servant comes in to get them out of there, Shakespeare.

Shakespeare: come on you two! We need to get you to safety!

Rex: but I need to save Quetz!

Shakespeare: that can wait! You need to be alive to do so anyway!

Rex: alright fine!

Then the two follow Shakespeare towards safety.

Soldier: where'd the two go!?

The group came out of the storm and were taken into what looked to be a book store. Inside were the two other authors Rex was familiar with.

Anderson: how'd it go Shakespeare?

Shakespeare: not amazing, they got to her.

Murasaki: how unfortunate.

Rex: can someone tell me what's going on?

Mash: yes, I'd appreciate that too.

Murasaki: this is a very unique singularity, it was intended as a trap.

Rex: a trap!? For Quetz?!

Anderson: yes, for whatever reason some mastermind wants her spirit origin. We're not sure why or who, but we do know it can't be good.

Rex: then we have to save her!

Murasaki: you're not in a condition to fight right now, and besides that mastermind won't won't able to do anything as of yet.

Mash: how can you be certain.

Shakespeare: we've been summoned here for a while and we've observed that the man in charge isn't here. There's someone in charge of the singularity but they're taking orders from someone else, somewhere else.

Anderson: and I've stopped their communications with said boss with my Ice Queen's blizzard.

Mash: you're responsible for the snow?

Rex: how can you make such a powerful snowstorm with a fictional character?

Murasaki: that's the nature of this singularity. Somehow authorial works have far more power. We assume who ever made this trap of a singularity is responsible.

Mash: have any guesses as to who it is?

Shakespeare: oh do we!

Anderson: we're pretty sure it's Miguel de Cervantes.

Mash: what makes you so sure?

Murasaki: because one of his most famous creations is also one of the greatest threats here: Don Quixote.

Rex: Don Quixote? But he was just some old delusional fool who thought he lived in a knight story!

Anderson: yeah, normally. But it seems his delusions became a noble phantasm! That turns fantasy into reality.

Mash: could that be why stories are becoming real all in this singularity?

Murasaki: we believe so...

Mash: fantasy to reality... so that makes you three the perfect allies... but what's the plan...

But Rex was getting antsy, wandering the shelves of the book store. He hated being without his wife, it'd been a long time since they were separated like this.

Mash: senpai...

Shakespeare: he can't handle it...

Rex looked through the books, eventually coming to the comics section...

Rex: hey... if you can turn fantasy into reality... how about pulling a Moriarty on me...

Mash: huh? Senpai what are you talking about?

Rex: Moriarty has that gun from that one German story... if the authors can do something similar to help me... I can save her.

Murasaki: that doesn't sound outside the realm of possibility.

Anderson: what did you have in mind?

Rex: lemme see If I can find it...

He looked through the comics, until he found what he was looking for.

Rex: ah ha! This here!

He pulled out a book, and opened to a particular page. In it was planet, a planet made of a dark colored ooze. The inhabit creepy looking slime monsters.

Rex: this! Symbiotes from marvel.

Shakespeare: interesting...

Anderson: not sure how I feel adapting a modern work like that...

Rex: just do it! I'll be able to save her with these powers.

Rex already had some servant abilities, with a small amount of authority from Quetz and the leftover spirit from Cipatli. But they weren't much, with this he hoped to complete it to make a proper spirit origin, or something akin to one.

Mash: senpai... is this really a good idea?

Rex: I Need to save her... I hate being without her... and I want to skewer the fools who took her away...

Murasaki: I can see the pain he's feeling... we should help...

Anderson: fine, we'll turn you into an alien monster. But it likely won't stick when this singularity's fixed.

Rex: so long as I get my wife back I'm fine with it.

The three authors put to use their abilities to infuse Rex with the alien symbiote. Slowly an ooze formed onto his body, colored dark blue, black and red. Then his body was complete engulfed in the slime. It formed something akin to a tight fitting costume with a mask not far off from a lucha mask.

Rex: ...feels weird...

Mash: at least it looks to have worked... what can you do?

First Rex changed his hand to form a large blade.

Rex: that... I can slice a bitch.

After changing it back, he was then able to form flames from his hands, dark blue in color.

Rex: oh!

Anderson: how the hell?

Mash: he did have some of Quetzalcoatl's authority. Maybe it's been enhanced.

Rex: hahahaha! Now let's go! Where the hell could they have taken her!

Shakespeare: not exactly sure where they operate, but Columbus should now.

Rex: you think he'll be out there?

Murasaki: yes, him and his inquisition have been hunting us ever since they found out about us.

Anderson: as authors not aligned with Miguel we pose a great threat here.

Rex: yeah, I can tell why.

Then Rex's communicator started up.

Da Vinci: hello?! Is this thing working?

Rex: we hear ya!

Da Vinci: finally! How's everything?

Mash: not so great.

Da Vinci: what happened?

Rex: the enemy took Quetz!

Da Vinci: what!? And what's with the getup? And why do you have an avenger class spirit origin?

Rex: long story, I'm a monster now. Going to save Quetz!

With that Rex leaps into the air to hunt down Columbus.

Da Vinci: Mash, can you explain?

Mash: somehow, fantasy can become reality and senpai used that to become a monster to save Quetzalcoatl. And he's currently hunting down Columbus for information.

Da Vinci: ah...

Mash: now I'll go catch up with him!

Mash runs off to follow Rex, seemingly forgetting the authors.

Anderson: well... should we leave them to it?

Murasaki: we really should follow, to help make things go smoothly.

Shakespeare: and I can't miss out on the story this will be.

Anderson: *sigh* ok then

Off with Rex he's found the Santa Maria and immediately rushes to fight the captain, leaping into the air with hand blades to kill the captain.

Rex: COLUMBUS!!!

Columbus: what the-? Is that the master of Chaldea?

Seeing the threat Rex was posing Columbus prepared to unleash his noble phantasm but before he could Rex manages to slice at him, injuring him severely.

Columbus: fuck!

The captain falls over, already too weakened to fight much.

Rex: Where is She?! Where'd you take her!?

Columbus: how'd you get so strong?

Rex: Tell Me!

Columbus: you're not getting any info from me...

Rex: we'll see about that

Rex grabs the captain by the arm and slowly stabs into his side, with the shape-shifted blade burning with divine fire.

Columbus, in pain: Aaahhh!

Rex: tell me what I need to know.

Columbus: aaahh! Fine! She's at the capital building!

Rex drops the fool, satisfied by the info. Finally Mash comes in, having caught up with Rex.

Mash: senpai! Did you find out where Quetzalcoatl is?

Rex: the capital building!

Mash: great!

As they finish Columbus starts to fade, tho now looking more like the one we're all familiar with.

Rex leaps off the boat and joins Mash as the boat fades along with it's master.

Mash: we're likely to run into Don Quixote there

Rex: doesn't matter.

The two leave towards the capital building. Having to fight off inquisition soldiers who got in their way. Eventually they find the capital building, a knight clad in sparkling armor with a strong looking horse stands guard.

Rex: that's him isn't it?

Mash: more then likely

Quixote: ho! You two! What brings you here?

Rex: I'm here to get my wife back!

Quixote: ah! You're the man I was told about! You look far more monstrous then I thought.

Rex: good! Now prepare to die!

Immediately the two clash, Rex's blades against Quixote's spear.

Mash attempts to help but is quickly surrounded by more inquisitors, having to fight them off before helping.

*slash*

Quixote: quite an interesting power you've got there! But you'll fall regardless monster!

Rex: Shut Up! I'll kill you! And then I'll get my wife back!

The two clash even more, Rex also having to fight off soldiers at the same time. Eventually another man comes out of the building.

???: Don! What goes on?

Quixote: the enemy master has come my lord!

Miguel: oh! He's come to save that goddess has he?

Rex: give her back!

Rex says this as he continues to clash with the knight.

Miguel: unfortunately I cannot, my master has requested her capture and I must follow his orders!

Rex: Fuck You!

Quixote: how vulgar!

Then, just as before the snow intensified, blinding the enemies.

Miguel: of all the times for this to ha- urk!

The spanish author feels a sharp pain in his chest, he looks in front of him and beyond the falling snow he sees the pissed off Rex.

Rex: I. Said. Give. Her. Back!

Rex then slices straight up, cutting the author in half.

The snow was still intense and the knight was now clashing with Mash, unaware of his master's death but also unaffected by it.

Rex runs into the capital building, the slimy symbiote receding into him to appear normal still. He then finds Quetzalcoatl inside a box similar to the coffins used for rayshifting.

Rex: mi corazon!

He goes over and busts it open and picks her up out of it.

Rex: are you ok?

She's only semi-conscious and isn't able to say much

Quetz: mi amor...?

Rex: I'm here! You're safe!

Outside Mash continues to fight Quixote, in the clash she manages to break his spear.

Mash: yes!

Now the spear appears far more old and damaged then it did before she damaged it. Quixote looks at it, and seems distraught.

Quixote: it's a lie... isn't it?

Mash: huh?

Quixote: it's all just a story... chivalry... it's all a lie...

Out of nowhere Quixote's armor becomes old and worn, his horse weak and also old. Then the snow stops entirely.

Mash: what happened?

???: you broke his trance.

Mash looks over and sees Shakespeare and the others.

Anderson: with Miguel dead, he was weakened and him seeing his spear I'm it's tru form broke his delusions. Now the fantasies are fading.

Mash: so it's over?

Murasaki: looks like it

Don Quixote then fades away himself. Then Rex is seen coming out of the building carrying Quetz.

Mash: Senpai! Is she ok?!

Rex: she'll be fine. Just need to get back.

Da Vinci: so you saved her? That's great to hear! Now let's get you two back before the singularity fades.

Rex: but who the hell was their master?

Da Vinci: not here, so we'll handle it when we get there.

Rayshifting in 3...2...1!

A/N: there's the story I've been planning for a bit. There's going to be a small epilog soon enough but for now there's that.

Tags

@hasishtardoneanythingwrong @hasereshdoneanythingwrong @haspaulbunyandoneanythingwrong @hasbbdoneanythingwrong @haskamadoneanythingwrong @hasabbydoneanythingwrong @renmeo @kazmetic @grievouslyxorvia @valiantstrawberrymilk

[iomhair]

Robb x Jaime headcanons

And since those two is pretty much all I can think about on a daily basis - here are some headcanons for Robb and Jaime just because I need them to be here <3 

During the war Robb’s curls are getting absolutely out of hand. They are messy, they are tangled, they have to be sheared for once. Or brushed at the very least. Jaime says it’s a bird’s nest. Robb snarls and says that his hair is fine. Secretly he will try to do something about them. 

Robb’s face is insanely expressive. 

Jaime’s not so much. He at least tries to hide his emotions. 

Does not really work very well. Everything is in his eyes. Everything.

Robb loves Jaime’s eyes, loves the colour, loves every emotion that he sees reflected there.  

Jaime has learnt to use it to his benefit.

Robb has a very keen scent. Jaime is amused by this and for him it is just another proof of Robb being raised in a pack of direwolves. Starks are savages, for sure.

Robb is smart, but sometimes he is really not. Like at all. He does not even consider all the dangers of King’s Landing because he got used to trust someone’s word. Just like Ned did. Jaime freaks out when they are in the capital, he still remembers what happens to all Starks within these walls. He will not let that happen again.

When Jaime sees Robb talking to Littlefinger or Varys, he is absolutely terrified. He will intrude, he will grab Robb and he will drag him out from the conversation this very second. He does not care how suspicious it looks. He will care later though.

If it was up to Jaime, he’d keep Robb locked up and he would let him out only when Robb’s men are finally returning back to Winterfell with all his Northern army.

Robb feels uneasy in King’s Landing. Jaime knows it. The nights they spend together he sometimes asks Robb to tell him about Winterfell and the North. Robb loves to talk about his home. He smiles and his eyes sparkle. These talks make him feel better. Jaime makes Robb feel better.

Jaime loves Robb’s accent. And Robb loves the way Jaime speaks. 

Especially when Jaime calls his name. Not “Your Grace” like everyone else. Not even “My Lord”. Just “Robb”. Quiet, loud, calm, whispering, laughing, moaning, anything. Even when angry. 

Although when angry Jaime calls him “Stark”. Only Jaime can make it sound like a swear word. Eventually Robb learned this trick as well. The effect was quite the opposite though. 

The way Robb growls “Lannisterrrr” and wrinkles his nose makes Jaime feel all sorts of things. He is not angry with Robb anymore. In fact, he will let Robb have an indulgence for today.

Robb is very curious about Jaime’s past. He asks him about his knighthood days, tournaments, his life at Casterly Rock, about the Targaryen reign and the last dragons. He wants to know everything.

Robb strives to be as disciplined as Jaime. When needed, and even when not needed, Jaime Lannister is damn stoic. No, seriously. Disciplined bastard. Must have been an army experience. Robb hates it. He also loves it. 

Robb has very little patience. Especially when it comes to teasing. Jaime knows it and uses it every time when he thinks he can get away with it. Big surprise: he does not really want to get away with it. 

Jaime is not fond of North to put it lightly. But he will learn to love it for Robb. Soon he’ll find it quite comforting. One day he will even visit Godswood that would be covered in snow. North grew on Jaime and he did not even notice it. 

When sleeping, Robb is taking the whole bed, it’s not even a question. Jaime does not mind, he likes to warm himself up against Robb, he is like a personal fireplace, always warm.

Jaime would be very intimidated by Grey Wind at first. Which is understandable since this is the huge ass direwolf. That is until one time he comes to Jaime and falls on the back with the quiet sigh, demanding belly scratches. 

When Robb is angry with Jaime he is using Grey Wind as a post dog. He’d give give him the parchment with the elaborate angry message and ask to bring it to the Lannister. Or not bring. Whatever, really. What does he care. Grey Wind always brings them to Jaime. He then stays for more scratches.

Jaime is a snuggler. He is very affectionate and devoted when there is just the two of them. He never shies to smile or laugh when he is with Robb. Robb loves to see him happy. 

Robb is taking his title extremely seriously. This was a huge responsibility out of damn nowhere and he was definitely not ready for it. Eventually it grows on him. Jaime tells him that it’s similar to just being the Lord of Winterfell, only on a bigger scale. Like.. imagine the whole North is Winterfell. And Robb cares about Winterfell. He’ll do just fine.

Robb would absolutely disintegrate house Locke, ripping it out with its routes. Not even Boltons. Their name will disappear. Every memory of them will disappear. But Jaime will decide what to do with the head of the house.

Robb values Jaime’s advice. A lot. He is the part of his council, his right hand, he is always there, and his every advice and observation are always considered, no questions asked. The final word always stays with Robb though. He is the King.

Robb really likes when Jaime compares him to the wolf. On some level he really is, as wild and untamed as a true predator. 

Robb gave Jaime a Valyrian steel sword as a gift, because of course he would. They have very similar swords that were melted from one. Yep. Jaime’s sword has a lion on the handle, and Robb’s has a wolf. 

Robb Stark is a romantic. There, screw it, I said it. 

Robb x Jaime modern headcanons:

Scotland. Of course Robb is from Scotland.

Jaime would sigh every time he even has to think of the nasty mess that is Glasgow.

Every time Robb comes to London he makes it a damn point to speak with the strongest accent ever. Posh folks from London, Lannisters included, do not quite understand him. Jaime still does though. 

Robb is feisty. One night he’ll have too many drinks and will start a brawl in the center of London only because he thought that someone said something nasty behind Jaime’s back. 

Robb loves borrowing Jaime’s clothes. T-shirts, hoodies, anything will do. Secretly Jaime loves to do the same. Jaime’s clothes is more clean. 

Whenever Robb visits Jaime, he always brings a bottle of good scotch from the airport. Surprisingly, at some point, all the whiskey in Lannister’s house was switched to the American bourbon. Robb does not quite like it. But hey, better that than the stab in the back from Tywin. Although it kinda felt like it.

Robb has a BMW motorcycle. He is a damn good driver. It does not make Jaime feel easier though, since motorcycles are dangerous. He specifically forbade Robb to park his motorcycle anywhere near Lannister’s manor. He knows his family better than Robb does and he knows what they can do. 

They both have big families with complicated relationships. This is kind of a problem, for Jaime especially.

Robb does not really care what others will say. Jaime thinks it’s because he is young yet. It’s not though. Robb truly does not care. He likes to be honest in his intentions and hates hiding Jaime from everyone. 

He does a very bad job at hiding though. Everybody knows at this point. The reactions... vary. 

Robb knows and loves most of the hiking routes in Scotland. Jaime thinks that this is crazy. He does not quite like hiking or any similar activities. The wine tasting on a nice boat though, right by the southern France... Now we talking. 

Jaime loves the warmth. Summer suits him, just as autumn and winter suits Robb. 

Sometimes Jaime thinks that Robb is some sort of fey that came out from the old Gaelic legends. Especially in the mornings when he watches Robb sleeping. It should be a full crime to be this beautiful.

Robb is good at cooking. Very good and efficient. Not surprisingly, really, if you have house full of younger siblings and their pets, who are constantly hungry. And Robb was raised to be a damn good big brother who will never leave little Starks hungry even if they have to eat burned porridge. 

Jaime finds it quite odd and a bit worrisome that most all of the local pub owners near Edinburgh know Robb and greet him heartily whenever they visit a pub. Back in London Jaime’s visits to the restaurants are a bit more formal. Lannisters have a certain reputation. He can’t just barge into a random place and get drunk there. He wants to though. 

They love Starks in the North. Stark’s sigils are quite common there.  

Once Robb came into Jaime’s house with the bag of fresh muffins and coffee from Starbucks. It was 5 AM. He spent the last couple of hours in the train from Glasgow to London St.Pancrass.

Robb threw stones into his window and loudly quoted Shakespeare, very amused with himself. 

Jaime was not sure if he wanted to kiss Robb after that or to kill him right there. 

Robb is not a fan of London.

But Jaime made sure to show him the best of it. 

Hugo Boss store in Soho was one of the stops. Robb really likes dressing up nicely. And Jaime knows it.

Since then Robb even have a couple of favourite places in the city. Nothing to do with the stores though. 

Robb hates leaving London. When he does, he prefers doing it by train. Somehow it feels less painful. 

He cheers up as soon as he sees road signs in Gaelic. 

Once Jaime just said “fuck it” and jumped to the train with Robb. He did not have anything with him, not even a wallet. Not even a ticket. The things he does for love.

Robb was shocked, but his smile could probably light up the whole station, if not the whole city.

This was the best train ride that Robb ever had in his life, although Jaime napped on his shoulder almost all the way.  

[adultswim2021]

Robot Chicken #12: “S&M Present” | April 17, 2005 – 11:30PM | S01E09

I begin this by saying what I always say: I didn’t laugh. Boy howdy, did I not laugh. But this might be my favorite episode so far?

This episode “Fistful of Yen”s it’s self into a two-part “The Fat One” where Joey Fatone (playing himself) is the only member of N*Sync to not get killed by Japanese Yakuza members, so he seeks training from Pat Morita (also playing himself), goes off to fight in a deadly tournament, fights Hong Kong Fooey for some reason, and then he fights like a Britney Spears monster or something? I don’t know, I got to a point where I was just like “I’m not mad at this, it’s basically harmless, I guess”

Another highlight is a scrambled porn which I’m only bringing up because as a big scrambled porn connoisseur I can say that they only did a “just okay” job of recapturing that specific scrambling effect. Could’ve been better. Nothing was more thriling to me when you’d get lucky and the scrambling effect would accidentally clear up enough to show you something nice. I remember watching once and about 75% of the screen in the upper-right hand corner was VERY clear, just miscolored and washed out, and I could very clearly watch two nude women wash a boat. It remains one of my most cherished memories. Also, getting to listen to porn was thrilling. Finding out lesbianism existed for the male gaze was a very formative moment in my upbringing. 

My least favorite sketch was one I actually remember people referencing to me: In it M. Night Shyamalan keeps experiencing various plot twists in his life and turning to the camera and saying “what a twist!”. I actually remember and think about with some frequency this video I found on YouTube of an aspiring comedy film-maker who did a video with just a bunch of “randomness” and he basically did “what a twist!” at one point. It still rings through my head. Another sketch was about how much it sucks to get up in the morning, and he just moaned while stumbling out of bed and occasionally would pop his head down into the camera and say “seriously, this fucking sucks!” and it was like a recurring bit that they’d keep cutting to throughout the video. I can’t believe I think about this guy so much. I wonder if he went on to do creative stuff. He probably did. Putting yourself out there and being an obnoxious idiot is far more important for success in comedy than being a huge me-style snob ever was. But we can admit that’s still pretty important though right

CONTACTING GHOST PLANET...

Space Ghost Coast to Coast #9: “Self Help” | October 7, 1994 | S01E09

Oh, Anka Radakovich... sooooo hot.... want to touch da hiney... AWOOO!!!

An episode that isn’t that good, but I’m so intimately familiar with it because it’s the earliest episode in Space Ghost’s run that isn’t on the DVD. So when they aired it on television I made a point to tape it, and when Adult Swim started it’s service where one could compile a DVD-R’s worth of Adult Swim episodes as a make-your-own/burn-on-demand sorta deal I jumped at the chance to make a DVD with the missing episodes of Space Ghost. Why they were available for burning and not clearable for the regular retail release eluded me. But I do know why this one wasn’t initially available: Dr. Joyce had a no-merchandising clause in her contract which somehow didn’t prevent her guest shot on Larry Sanders from seeing a DVD release.

This one features Rich Hall curmudgeonly refusing to do sniglets, saying “they’re dead. put them in the garage”. We also have the aforementioned Anka Radakovich who is the hottest woman to ever be on Space Ghost. She seems really cool. I would like to hang out with her. I am sorry if she looks not that good in the screenshot but it’s her most endearing moment, where she acts retarded on camera basically. I love her.

[mxrstar]

hey do you ever love a fic so much you want to draw fanart for it? but you are not very good at drawing so you decide to try out collage for the first time in your life? well, let’s just say that i quite liked the last published chapter of  @gerrydelano​​‘s fic 

[ID: the image is a collage. the background paper is pastel blue, and towards the top right corner there is a group of birds, drawn in white. they are eating and the lines of the drawing are smudged, so that the white drags out from them in vague shades. on the top left corner, there is a single window frame; the frame is green and the glass is black. there are a series of eyes taken from various paintings glued on top of the glass. from behind the frame, comes a single butterfly’s wing, which is red yellow and white. on the bottom right corner, there is a tiny, white drawing of a person helping another on a small boat. the drawing is framed into the corner by an arch. the colors of the arch are graded from dark green to dark red. a red and yellow leaf is glued on top of the arch, and there is a tiny piece of paper glued onto the leaf. the paper says: “-G”. right in the middle of the drawing, we first can see (looking at it from the bottom to the top) a picture of some kind of body of water, upon which two boats are sailing. upon that first picture, acting as shore for the water, there is a picture of outer space. it is red, green, violet and white, and it is a bit shiny. there is an old stairway glued right in the middle of outer space. at the bottom of a stairway we can see a yellow figure (maybe a kid, with long hair and a backpack) and the top of the stairs connects to a door. the door belongs to a blue room. there is a big clock glued upon the door, and there is a drawing of a man, looking tired and facing the other way, right in the middle of the room. the top and bottom right corners of the room are framed by two colored vortex, which are incidentally two of the stars from Van Gogh’s “Starry Night”. from behind the left side of the room, comes out another butterfly wing, which perfectly mirrors the one that comes out of the window. on the right side of the paper, we can see the sentence “I’d say you have at least somewhat of a chance” spelled out in different letters. at the bottom of the paper, a white piece of paper says “two ships passing”. /end ID]

under the cut I have written an explanation of the meaning behind the,, symbols? I am not going to pretend I had super strict idea to begin with, but as I started to find things I liked on random high-school books I (un)consciously  assigned them a meaning. feel free to indulge my pretentiousness and read my ramble I guess + (also under the cut) close-up pictures

okay so let me just run down a list: — the window okay, so. that’s meant to represent the background world, the things Gerry and Jon are going to have to live with whenever they step outside of their refuge. the glass is dark, because they try to protect themselves for as long as possible, but there are still various Eyes peeking in, mostly looking aggressive or extremely focused (fun fact: all of these come from paintings; i perhaps should have written down which belongs to what but i forgot) — the birds this is a reference to the ongoing “birds in jon’s stomach” metaphor. they are eating because that’s what they were drawn doing on the paper i miraculously found dsgfghk but if you want to push it you could say that they are all going “finally, some good fucking food” at Jon’s joy in meeting Gerry?? + they lines are smudged because,,,,,,, (god i am so sappy) because it gives an impression of movement? like, they are at ease but part of them is free to fly — the butterfly’s wings so, take “one dropped stone can change the way the whole ocean moves” but make it boring, and suddenly it’s the butterfly’s effect. the wings connect both to the outside world, to the window and the Eyes /and/ to the room (which I will get to later) because their meeting changes everything. it changes how they interact with the world and (at least partially) it saves them from it + it changes them as people, and gives them a space to be happy, to be with each other — the sea + outer space the sea with the two boats is quite an obvious one so i am not going to say anything about it. outer space is,,,,,,,,,, Miriam? I know she is more ocean vast that she is space vast, but I guess the contrast is nicer this way. she has been the shore to their sea, the vast, contextless freedom through which Jon and Gerry have connected, and Gerry has healed — the yellow figure in my head, that’s Gerry. i don’t know about the yellow, it came with that so i didn’t choose it and i don’t really have a meaning for it (unless you want to be really emo and decide that “Gerard just looks at him like he’s seeing the sun for the first time, and then looks away like he’s surprised by how much it hurts” is suddenly reversed in this last chapter, and Gerry is, in a way, Jon’s sudden source of light). the figure is that of a kid (I think, at least?) with a backpack. it’s Gerry as a kid, meeting Jon in that chance Miriam has made possible and relatively durable — the stairs those are a reference to the stairs in Portia’s house, but they also mark the passage of time (that’s sort of represented by the big clock on top of the door). by the time Gerry gets to the top, Miriam has left and suddenly he is in another room — the blue room + the man the blue room is where Jon is stuck now. he is facing the other way, he is adrift. the man doesn’t look like Jon but we’ll forgive that because in the original full drawing he is sitting onto a rock which is connected with some ropes to a boat. the blue room is framed by those vortexes (which are actually two starts from Van Gogh’s Starry Night) because i had made a mess with glue and i needed to cover up the corners sfgsdfg but if we want to think well and hard about this, perhaps they are the lights Jon still has but cannot, won’t see. he is not looking at either of them. wow now im sad — the door Gerry and Jon don’t meet in the universe, nor in the blue room. they meet beyond the door, in their sacred, private space. they both need to get in in order for this to work — the bottom right corner okay, in my head that’s sort of a page number. something that marks our position in the story. there’s this drawing of a man helping another on a boat (which comes from the same drawing I found the man in the blue room in!) cause, you know. it’s reunion time. the arch was originally part of a circle which was rainbow-coloured. it reminded me of that idea which I think is in the Official™ gtcmu™ lore- that thing about Jon having no specific colour, but colouring everyone else, sort of being the rainbow. it’s not obvious cause the arch isn’t a full rainbow, but I was indeed thinking about it. i guess i also wanted to somehow convey that it’s not just Gerry that is giving something to Jon. they are both sharing something meaningful with each other. Jon is still making him bright. then, there is the leaf, because this happens in Autumn, and the small “-G” which is a reference to the note Gerry leaves to Tim — “I’d say you have at least somewhat of a chance” the quote is obviously very cute and the moments in which both Gerry and Jon say it (though this is Gerry’s phrasing) are CUTE. but i chose this one because it’s superficially warm + as a standalone could mean something more. it’s simple and it’s complex. it’s “yeah im totally bi” “yeah i would indeed like to kiss you” and it’s “sometimes it feels like the entire world is against you and your life has been so so hard, but I’d say you have at least somewhat of a chance”. and this is their chance. so they take it

OKAY i made myself emotional thank you for get quite as far as you are reading this!

pictures next:

[wizardnuke]

hi tony i am here to ask you about a very specific scenario: you are trapped on an island and there is a lot of vegetation but it's all weird and you don't know if you can eat it without Dying. also there are a lot of REALLY cute animals there like too cute to eat u just can't do it. one day you see a boat headed your way, with loads of people on it. would you rather this boat be the mayflower or the titanic? choose wisely.

- this is hilarious

- and this answer got a little out of hand

- please remember that I am the op of the accursed roanoke colony post

- also my brain short circuited because I have a bit of a migraine (pain isn't bad. brain thoughts are not quite there) and I mixed up the ships and instead of the mayflower my brain said susan constant which lead me to jamestown

- I did not fact check any of this.

- there are several factors to consider here

- presumably I can't tell the titanic people that they're going to hit an iceberg because of the butterfly effect, so that'll be rough, but since women and children were the first to get off the ship I have a good chance of surviving when they inevitably wreck

- would I be able to withstand the guilt of knowing what's going to happen without being able to tell them? that's debatable. so, onto option two:

- if I go with the susan constant, things become much more complicated. one, there's no saying that I'm not carrying a disease that the susan constant people (and titanic but they have a better chance) have never been in contact with and therefore have no immunity to, which would then kill them.

- that may not be a bad thing. anyway.

- let's say that I go with the susan constant, and we sail to the new world, and we establish the first successful european colony: jamestown.

- I've been to a reconstruction of jamestown. more than that, I've read a lot about it. because I'm a history person and, embarrassingly, My Thing is early american (including pre colonial, which is less embarrassing) history.

- do you know what happened at jamestown? for the sake of this thought experiment let's say that I somehow survived the first few years despite the diseases going around and just the scrutiny of the colonists bc of a hundred different little reasons that range from me not speaking their version of english to my haircut to me just being insufferable

- these europeans were hilariously unprepared for the climate and geography of this place. from 1606 to 1608 they were in contact with the powhatans, who helped them a lot, but then the europeans started being assholes and the powhatans cleared out, and they started fighting.

- they weren't prepared for the winter.

- the winter of 1609-1610 was called "the starving time". because, once again, they weren't prepared for the winter.

- they started with 300 colonists. that number dwindled over the years, and by the spring of 1610, there were only 60 left.

- not all of these colonists starved to death, unfortunately or not, though getting killed was probably less painful. some were killed by the powhatans. others were killed by their fellow colonists, because they went all lord of the flies on each other. and, because they were starving,

- the colonists of jamestown resorted to cannibalism to survive the winter.

- I am not nearly as good of a fighter as I like to think I am. I don't want to be bashed in the head by a scurvy ridden european man who hates me personally because I'm cool and sexy and can read and, as far as they're concerned, female, and because I wasn't a planned passenger for their trip to begin with and I don't even speak their version of english.

- I don't want to starve to death, be an inconvienence for the powhatans, or be cannibalized by the colonists of jamestown.

- I'd go with the titanic.

NOW, WITH THE FUCKING MAYFLOWER IN MIND:

- religious extremists, the lot of them

- I don't speak their version of english

- I would have made a nervous joke about speaking tongues

- and I would have kickstarted the witch trials by 80 years.

- let's say that I didn't. what would have happened? guess what happened. guess what happened when they arrived in plymouth. in what's now massachusetts, in the winter.

- it wasn't cannibalism! it was the other issue! disease! because they all bunked in the ship over the winter bc it was cold as fuck and they weren't prepared. they started with 102 people and they entered spring with 53.

- AND THEN THEY WENT BACK TO EUROPE. I DON'T WANT TO GO TO 1620S EUROPE. WITCH TRIALS, ANON. THEY WOULD HAVE HUNG ME.