#nat traversal

[krisispiss]

I DONT EVEN LIKE POKEMON BDSP THAT MUCH (I am not a sinnoh fan) BUT I HAVE TO DEFEND THEM ON THE INTERNET BECAUSE THEY ARE THE BEST SINNOH GAMES AND I WILL *DIE* ON THIS HILL!!!! I DONT CARE ABOUT PLATINUM, BDSP ARE THE ONLY GAMES THAT LET YOU TRAVEL SINNOH AND NOT HAVE GOD FUCKING AWFUL HMS AND FOR THAT IT GOES ON A PEDESTAL ABOVE EVERY OTHER SINNOH GAME!!!

[hopepetal]

So @applestruda and I, as well as a friend of ours, have been watching Fantasy High together. That made me think. What if some of our sillies played DND?

--

Grian smiled, the kind of smile that always preceded a prank or something equally as dastardly. “You find yourself traversing through the forest, surrounded by trees that stretch–” And he reached up with an arm to show the great height of the forest– “right up to the sky, it seems. There's a muggy, sort of humid air, and you can hear that the birds are calling for potential mates in the distance.”

Impulse nudged Jimmy with a grin. “Hey, lover bird, sounds like your kind of crowd.”

Jimmy flushed a bright pink, spluttering out, “No, what the– oh my gosh, Impulse, that's so rude!” to laughter from around the table.

Even Grian had to hide a chuckle, before going back to describing the scene. “And you see, as you're trekking through this jungle– Pearl in front, slashing through the vines and smaller underbrush with her sword– you find that the underbrush suddenly stops, and there is a huge lake of what seems to be quicksand blocking the path.”

“Can I jump over it?” Pearl asked immediately, to which Grian, after a moment of consideration, shrugged.

“It's worth trying,” he answered, “give me an acrobatics roll.”

Pearl took up one of her starry blue die and rolled it, peering at the number when it stopped moving. “14– 18, with acrobatics.”

Grian thought for a moment, before shrugging and nodding his head. “...yeah, that works. You, take a few steps back, get a running start, and you jump over that quicksand like its nothing. It's– definitely not nothing, you probably just broke a human world record for long jump with half the effort, but hey, that's the fun of not being human!”

“I feel targeted,” Impulse joked, earning a round of giggles.

“Right, then. That's Pearl's turn.” Grian turned to Jimmy. “Do you wanna try doing the same thing, or are you gonna look for another way...?”

Jimmy grabbed his die, shaking it eagerly in his hands. “Oh, we're jumping this thing, baby.” He released the die, glanced at the number, and let out a horrified exclamation. “Nat one! That's– no, oh no, that's not–!”

Grian already had an evil grin on his face. “So, you go to jump over this huge thing of quicksand– and it's huge, man, you don't even know why you're doing this– and you land right in the middle of it, flat on your face, and begin to sink.”

Jimmy groaned, burying his head in his hands as the table laughed. “Oh, this is awful, this is awful...”

Tango fumbled with his die. “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, can I– can I roll to help him, or something?”

Grian snickered. “Go ahead.”

Tango rolled, and screeched. “Oh no! I got a nat one! Ohhh, no!”

The whole table started dying from laughter, Scar almost falling out of his chair, startling Jellie in the process. Tilly barked once, her tail wagging as she panted heavily.

Grian wiped tears from his eyes. “Ohhh, boy. Oh man.” He giggled, his wings shaking as he tried to calm himself. “Right. So, you see Jimmy sinking face first into the quicksand, and you quickly jump out to help him– falling straight into the quicksand yourself, almost landing on Jimmy in the process.”

Tango pulled his knees up to his chest, burying his face in his knees as he wailed. “Oh, nooo! I'm so sorry, Jimmy!”

[soaringthroughthegalaxy]

Hello. It's Talita from Ao3 here, I said I would come. 🤭😂 So I'd like to request Hunter x shy fem reader with the last smutty prompt: ❛ i love that no one else has seen you like this, that no one else has felt you before, been inside you. they don't get to have you, but i do. ❜ Maybe the reader's inexperience might come to the surface when they're all in 79s and a drunken Crosshair suggests she get someone to f*c*? But reader waits for the right partner. ♥️

Hey Talita! Thanks for the request and all the love you’ve been sharing 🥰

Shy readers seem to be the flavour of the moment, as I just went out with one for Crosshair!

This one ran away with me. It’s my longest to date. Hope it's okay 😊

Waiting for You

A night out at 79’s leads to a revelation that surprises the whole batch, and with feelings becoming increasingly more difficult to hide, it was only a matter of time before you and Hunter reached a crossroads. (Pre Echo)

Pairing: Hunter x f!reader

Word count: 6.8k

Rating: 18+ MINORS DNI!!

Warnings: friends to lovers (🤌), Cross is a shit stirrer (what else is new?), alcohol consumption (but both parties are sober for spicy time), sibling teasing/banter, sweet sweet tension and yearning, sexually shy!reader, virgin!reader, first kiss, first time together, oral (f!receiving), light fingering, unprotected PiV, reassurance and comfort, pet names, praise, sprinkle of dirty talk, soft aftercare.

Translation: (Mando'a) Gar ru'lis ganar kaysh. – You could have her.

The thump of the music wasn’t so heavy, tucked away in a back booth of 79’s. It wasn’t often you visited, preferring to frequent other bars and clubs whenever you and the boys had shore leave - there were perks to them not looking like Regs. However, 79’s was close to where you were all staying and cheap enough that the few credits you’d all managed to save would go much further than they would anywhere else.

Wedged between Wrecker and Hunter, with Tech and Crosshair taking up the seats on the opposite side of the booth, you watched as Wrecker pried a well-worn card from the pile in the middle of the table. During your last Venator stop, you’d made a few trades with some of the Regs and had walked away with a small pile of loot, including a set of ‘drink or do’ cards. They were common amongst the clones during downtime, providing distraction and intoxication.

Wrecker flipped the card over, huffing as his eyes skipped over the text. “Let the group message anyone on ya datapad or take two shots.” He read the card aloud.

Crosshair’s hand immediately extended for the datapad, fingers curling in a ‘give it here’ gesture. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, and you laughed as Wrecker huffed, handing over his device to his younger brother.

“You are aware this is a group effort, yes?” Tech asked, leaning in towards his twin to look at the screen. Out of all of you, Tech had elected to stay sober, hating the way his mind went fuzzy with the effects of alcohol. One of you needed to ensure you all returned to the hotel in one piece.

The deadpan look Crosshair gave him pulled a giggle from you. You were several drinks deep by now – some of the cards you’d drawn had been wholly inappropriate, so shots had been the only option. Everything felt good, your inhibitions lowered, and you knew you were safe. Your men would look after you. 

A year you’d been with them, traversing the galaxy, trying desperately to keep them alive. Nat-born medics were a rarity in the GAR, but sometimes they were called in. You’d been head-hunted from Coruscant Medical after the Batch had been out in the field for a few months –they hadn’t gotten on well with the Reg medics initially assigned to them.

“Please pick Fox.” You insisted, leaning a little across the table. Gasping, you had a new idea. “Wait, no! Wolffe.” You leaned back with a wide grin, enjoying Wrecker’s groan. Knowing Crosshair, the message would be salacious, and you knew a few of the men in the Wolfpack who would absolutely fill you in on their Commander’s reaction in the morning.

Crosshair lifted a finger, pointing it at you. “I like the way you think, doll.” He complimented. Only when he was several drinks in did his tongue loosen and compliments flow more freely.

“That’s why you keep me around.” You tease, watching as the sharpshooter taps out a quick message. A gentle hand on your knee has you turning your attention to Hunter, your smile widening at his touch and how he pushes a glass of water closer to you, encouraging you to hydrate properly to stave off a hangover in the morning. Warmth seeps through you at his care, and you’re grateful for the cacophony of sounds and stimuli in 79’s that mask the way your heart rate spikes a little.

Although Hunter indulged a little this evening, he knew his limits. He’d been nursing a Tsiraki for most of the night. If he wasn’t careful, it didn’t take much to frazzle his senses and cause a two-day migraine. Keeping his wits about him also meant he could look after you. 

Nestled between Wrecker and himself, the laugh lines on your face and the glint in your eyes told Hunter that you cherished these moments despite the chaotic nature of their lives. He appreciated how you fit into their world, understanding their quirks and unspoken communication. You navigated the challenges of their unique existence with a grace that fascinated him. To him, you weren’t just their medic; you were their companion, their confidant, a source of solace in a gritty galaxy.

Hunter’s gaze lingered on you as Crosshair added the final touches to the message. The playful banter and easy camaraderie were the moments he adored the most. Yet, beneath it all, there was a yearning, a quiet ache that he couldn’t quite put into words.

He saw the weariness that sometimes lingered in your eyes – chased away this evening by liquor and laughter – and wished he could erase the shadows that sometimes clouded your gaze. It fuelled his desire to protect and shield you from the harsh realities that had become their norm. 

Taking a sip of his Tsiraki, Hunter let his gaze linger on the curve of your profile. The way your hair fell, and your fingers traced absentminded patterns on the table while you chatted with his brothers stirred something within him. Something that he wanted to grab with both hands and hold close.

Lost in his thoughts, he almost missed the moment you turned to him, your eyes meeting his with a warmth that sent a shiver down his spine. “What do you think?” You asked. “Suitable enough?” 

Hunter blinks once, twice, and then nods. “Sure, sounds good.” He answers, having no idea what you’d been asking about. As you turned back to face the others at the table, Hunter caught the knowing look Tech sent him. Try as he might to hide that ache in his chest, his brother was too smart to miss it.

“Ya can’t send that!” Wrecker protests, mild panic in his eyes as Crosshair, eternal torturer of his siblings, grins at his brother as he pushes the send button. “Ahh, I don’t wanna know if he responds.” Wrecker shakes his head, though a smile also tugs at the corners of his lips. He turns his head towards you. “You’re next.”

Reaching for the stack of cards in the middle of the table, you pry the top one free and pull it towards you. You scan over the instructions, grimacing. “Name five different places you’ve had sex or take three shots.” You read it aloud, tossing the card down onto the table.

Beside you, you feel Hunter shift, Wrecker and Crosshair break into laughter, and Tech offers you a sympathetic smile. With a resigned sigh, you reach for your glass. But before you can grasp it, it’s snatched away from you. 

“Cross!” You gasp, jaw slackening as you watch mischief dance in the sniper’s hawkish eyes. 

“You’ve skipped out on nearly every ‘do’ task tonight. But you’re not skipping this one.” Crosshair insists, dragging your drink away so you can’t take it back. His motives were two-fold. One, he was nosey. And two, he wasn’t stupid. He’d seen the way Hunter had been looking at you for months now, and watching his older brother squirm as you shared your sex life would be fantastic. 

With a huff, you cross your arms over your chest, resting your elbows on the table. “Is your sex life so bland you have to live vicariously through mine?” You tease, arching an eyebrow. Boisterous laughter erupts at the table, and you can’t help but giggle along. 

Crosshair scowls. “Please. I could have any woman in this place.” He snorts, leaning in and lifting a hand with his five fingers up. “Five places. I’ll count them off for you.” He challenges.

“Nu-uh.” You refute, unfurling an arm to wag a finger at him.

“Only kriff in a bed then. How boring.” He can’t help but bite back, turning the tide onto you.

Rolling your eyes, you huff, used to this song and dance with him. “No.”

“Out with it, then.” He pushes.

Worry curls through you. You trusted these men with your life, knew that their teasing was all light-hearted and they’d never genuinely mock you, but some things were private. “Cross…” You mumble, fingers finding the neckline of your shirt to play with the fabric nervously. 

“Pretty little thing like you probably has many stories to tell!” Wrecker laughs, giving your shoulder a light nudge.

You laugh awkwardly, trying to make up some stories on the spot, ones you can quickly sell, teeth sinking into your lower lip.

Curiosity painted itself on Tech’s face – he’d spent long enough studying your body language to aid him in understanding nat-born social cues, to pick up on the subtleties. “You do not have any stories.” He states, with no judgement in his tone.

The certainty of Tech’s comment captures Hunter’s attention, and he tilts his head in your direction, brown eyes taking in the nervousness and mild panic that’s now on your face.

“Don’t tell me you’re a kriffing virgin…” Crosshair is equal parts horrified and amused. There was no way in hell you – you – hadn’t been with anyone.

Embarrassment seeps through you, and you drop your gaze to the table, fingers going back to trace the patterns of the wooden surface. 

Crosshair couldn’t believe it; this was wilder than any other confession they had shared during the night. “You’re kidding me…even Tech’s been laid a handful of times, and you haven’t?”

Tech sighs at his twin’s barb, though he’s used to them by now and doesn’t take it to heart.

At your silence, the boys share a glance, trying to hide their surprise at the situation. 

Mulling it over, Crosshair looks around the bar. “Plenty of pickings in here. Then again…Regs.” He sneers.

“I don’t want a random hookup. I want the right one.” You admit quietly, shyness taking a front-row seat.

Crosshair baulks. “Oh, hell. You want romance and love.” The idea horrifies him even more. He goes to speak again, but Hunter interjects.

“Crosshair…” Hunter warns, voice low. He’d picked up on your discomfort and wanted to end it.

A smirk tilts Crosshair’s lips at the reprimand. He’d opted not to say anything or show his hand in the past, keeping his knowledge about Hunter’s affection for you quiet. “Gar ru'lis ganar kaysh.” He teases with a toothy grin, unleashing that hand.

Tech and Wrecker can’t hide their snorts of laughter at his words. Hunter’s lips press together, and he huffs, reaching for a card to bring the focus back to the game and off you. Crosshair’s dark chuckle seeps into the air, delighted at getting a small rise from his older brother.

The Mando’a catches you off guard – you didn’t know enough to understand what had been said, but the laughter and Hunter’s reaction had you frowning. The boys had only taught you the odd word or two as they didn’t use it as much anymore.  As Hunter pries his card from the pile and flips it over, he places his hand back on your knee under the table, reassuringly squeezing it. Reaching down, you give his wrist a light squeeze, appreciating that he’d taken the heat off you. His hand stays in place as he reads the card aloud, and the game continues. 

Your shore leave had been a welcome reprieve, especially as six back-to-back missions had followed it. You’d wrapped up the latest hours ago, and the Senator you’d helped had been exceptionally grateful for the assistance. He’d offered for you all to stay on the planet for a little while to rest in one of his many hotels. A quick comm to Command had seen it okayed for two days, so here you were, hanging out on the balcony of Hunter’s suite.

You’d accidentally discovered that you had connecting rooms, having knocked on a random door in your suite and been amused to find Hunter on the other side when it had opened. He’d immediately invited you in, and you’d headed for the balcony to watch the city go by while he finished the last report. Crosshair and Wrecker had gone off searching for food, while Tech had decided to tinker with his latest project.

Leaning against the railing, laughter from down below captures your attention. Eyes falling to where the sound was coming from, you watch a couple embrace on the side of the street, sharing lingering kisses. From your vantage point, you can make out their broad smiles.

An ache settles in your chest, that old pesky feeling of yearning tugging at you. Unconsciously, you tug your cardigan around you a little tighter – whether to keep out the chill in the wind or offer some comfort, you don’t know.

In the suite, and with the reports finished, Hunter pauses at the doorway, unable to pry his eyes off you. Something about how you’re standing, the expression on your beautiful face, makes unease sink into his gut. He wants to chase away whatever is making you look so sad.

It was becoming harder and harder for him to ignore his feelings, to tamper them down, especially as he knew his brothers were all aware. How long would it be before you picked up on it, too? That blasted night at 79’s kept replaying in his mind, his fingers itching to reach for you at every opportunity and to make a move before someone else snapped you up and took you from him. Hunter knows he doesn’t have much he can give you and can’t promise a safe or long life together – anything can happen in a war – but he knows he can provide you with romance. He knows he can make you the centre of his galaxy, and you’ll never have to question his devotion.

But would you want that from him, though? It was the one thought that stopped him.

Realising he’d been watching for a while, Hunter joins you on the balcony, moving to your side. You don’t startle; you’re used to him and his brothers silently approaching by now. He follows your focused gaze, watching a couple on the street share kisses before flagging down a taxi. “They look happy.” He comments quietly, wondering if that was the cause of your sadness.

“Mhm.” You hum in agreement, wondering for a moment longer what it would be like to be so carefree and in love. Before falling too far down the ash-rabbit hole, you focus on the man at your side. “Plans for the evening?” You ask, changing the subject while hoping to lighten your mood.

Not wanting to push, Hunter lets it go and instead lifts a hand to count off each element of his plan on his fingers. “Room service, a holodrama, and sleep.”

“Okay there, Grandpa.” You tease, the wind whipping around you a little more as you break out into a smile.

Hunter’s pretty sure your smile could end this war if you turned it on the right people. With a fond shake of his head, he chuckles. Unable to help himself just this once, he reaches out and gently tucks a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.

The action makes you pause, smile faltering, lips parting slightly in surprise. For a moment, you look at one another, the air seeming to crackle with something. Hunter had always been soft with you, but he’d been even more attentive since the night at 79’s.

“Join me?” He asks, not willing to let you go just yet.

“Sure.” You reply with a soft smile, not even needing a moment to think about it, and Hunter leads the way back into the suite. The balcony door closes behind you, muffling the sounds of the bustling city outside.

You settle onto the couch and Hunter orders room service. As you wait for the food to arrive, you fall into easy conversation, discussing missions, the state of the galaxy, and anything else that comes to mind.

The food doesn’t take long to arrive, the aroma filling the room, and you both enjoy a quiet dinner. Between you, you select a holodrama that turns out to be surprisingly entertaining. But as it progresses, you find yourself drawn to Hunter’s presence. His arm casually rests against the back of the couch, not quite touching you but close enough to send a shiver down your spine. A fluttery feeling erupts in your belly as your brain helpfully supplies that this kind of thing always happens in the trashy romance novels that clog up your datapad.

Nearing the end of the holodrama, a feather-light touch brushes against the nape of your neck and you instinctively lean into it. Hunter’s fingers trace gentle circles, and you feel a warmth spreading through you. Glancing towards him, you find his gaze fixed on you.

“Sorry.” He murmurs, withdrawing his hand slightly.

“No, it’s... nice.” You respond, surprising yourself with the admission. Hunter’s hand returns and the soft touch continues.

Hunter is at war with himself – if there was ever a time to make a move, it would be now. His senses are on overdrive, homed in on you, picking up every errant breath you take, the heavy thud of your heart, and your soft swallows.

The weight of the moment sits, the holodrama becoming background noise as you witness the conflict in Hunter’s gaze. It doesn’t last long, though, and the subtle touch on your neck becomes bolder, his hand shifting around to cup your cheek as his thumb brushes against your lower lip.

Inexperience makes you nervous, heart thumping wildly. You go to dip your head to break the eye contact, but Hunter’s pointer finger hooks under your chin to stop the movement.

He leans in slowly, closing the distance between you, giving you time to pull away if you’re uncomfortable. But you don’t. You remain still, those pretty eyes of yours focused on him even as your heart rate spikes and your breaths turn a little shallower with anticipation. “Cyar’ika…” He murmurs, a hair’s breadth away from you, gaze dropping momentarily to your lips.

The flood of feelings instead of you is overwhelming - excitement and nervousness, worry and anticipation. It’s hard to single each one out. You’d been telling the truth in 79’s - you were indeed waiting for the right man - but you’d omitted that you were sure it was the man now sat at your side, letting you decide whether to push your friendship into something more.

You lean in ever so slightly, and finally, his lips brush against yours in a tentative, exploratory kiss. It’s soft and sweet, testing the waters. Your eyes flutter closed, savouring the warmth that spreads through you.

The kiss deepens, becoming more passionate, and you respond eagerly. The taste of him, the feel of his hand on your cheek, it’s much more than you expected.

Hunter’s other hand moves between you and the couch, resting on the small of your back, pulling you closer. Your hands find their way to his shoulders, fingers intertwining with the fabric of his shirt as he draws you onto his lap.

Breaking the kiss, Hunter pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort. Instead, he finds his desire mirrored. “You okay?” He double-checks quietly, his breath mingling with yours.

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips. “More than okay.”

Hunter grins, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. “Good.” He whispers before capturing your lips in another kiss, the intensity growing between you. The holodrama plays on, completely forgotten, as you lose yourselves in the moment.

The touch of his lips and the warmth of his embrace all feel right. Hunter’s hands explore your back, and you feel the gentle press of his fingers as they slide under your shirt, sending shivers down your spine. Eventually, you both pull back, foreheads resting against each other as you catch your breath. The air is charged with electric energy, and the room feels warm.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” Hunter admits, his voice a low, smoky murmur, but conflict shines in his eyes. “I can’t give you the things any other man could. There’s no guarantee of tomorrow. I know it’s not right an-“

You meet his gaze, feeling warmth in your cheeks. “It is right.” You cut him off softly, breaking eye contact, focusing instead on the slight hollow of his throat as nervousness sweeps through you. “This... with you, it feels right.” You confess quietly.

Delight simmers in Hunter’s veins, and his fingers trace patterns on your back. He still feels guilty, but if this is what you want, and you’re sure it’s right, then who is he to protest? Pressing a kiss to your forehead, he smiles. “Then I’ll do everything I can to ensure you always feel that way.”

Your fingers find his chest, the buttery softness of his shirt doing nothing to conceal the firm muscles beneath it. A slight hum of contentment slides from him as you brush your fingers up and down his sternum. The nerves are back, your eyes flitting up to gaze at him, noting how his own are closed and contentment is painted across his face.

On your next stroke down, your fingers dip slightly lower, catching the first few ridges of his abs. A deep rumble vibrates his chest, giving you courage. Head tilting down to watch your actions, your heart pounds as your fingers skirt close to the hem of his shirt – and the waistband of his pants. A tattooed hand wraps around your wrist, stilling your motions, and you look up from under your lashes.

Meeting your gaze, Hunter’s thumb rubs small circles on your pulse point. “Feels good, cyar’ika. But there’s no rush.”

“I know, but…” You trail off for a moment, averting your gaze. “I want this. I want you.” You confess quietly, feeling warmth return to your cheeks as you chance a glance at him. “I’m tired of waiting, and I-I want you to be my first…”

Hunter was a good man, a strong man, but hell if he didn’t crumble at your confession. His fingers find your face, tilting your head upwards so he can look at you properly. He was touched by your admittance but didn’t want you to regret anything. “Promise me?” He asks gently, knowing how much value you placed on promises.

Meeting warm brown eyes, you couldn’t help the soft smile that crossed your lips. You were nervous, yes, but this felt right. “I promise.”

Leaning in, Hunter’s lips capture yours in a heated kiss. His hands shift, moving to cup your ass, and he lifts you up as he stands. The small noise of surprise you let out and how you grasp at him for stability draws a deep chuckle from him, though the sound is muffled by the kiss. It’s only a few steps over to the bed, and as he lowers you down gently onto the plush surface, he follows, hands smoothing across your hips as he rests a little of his weight against you.

Lips trailing from yours, he drags kisses across your cheek and down to your jawline, following the curve of your throat, giving a light nip as he reaches the juncture where your shoulder and neck meet. How your hips buck at the contact, breath catching, clues him in to how much you enjoy it. Your hands shift down Hunter’s body, and he can feel the nervousness rolling off you. Propping himself up above you with one hand, he uses the other to guide your hands towards his body, encouraging you to touch him in return. “There’s no reason to be nervous. We only do what you’re comfortable with.” He tells you, wanting to make that abundantly clear. “And we can stop anytime.”

You nod, chest rising and falling with each quick breath as your hands meet Hunter’s body. Encouraged, you explore the ridges and planes of him, fingers smoothing over him before gripping his narrow waist. His mouth is back on you, dragging across your throat, pulling soft noises from your lips as you familiarise yourself with the man above you. As your hands shift, a flash of courage rips through you, and you reach down, one hand landing squarely on his ass, giving the firm muscle a soft squeeze.

Hunter startles, not expecting the action, and warm puffs of his breath fan across your neck as he chuckles. “Cheeky.” He murmurs against your skin, the vibration of his laughter sending pleasant shivers down your spine. The atmosphere in the room is charged with a mix of desire and nervous excitement as you continue to explore each other.

Hands pull at clothes, material discarded, fluttering to the hotel room floor as acres of skin are revealed. You’re warm to the touch, the earlier chill from the balcony chased away by Hunter’s hands. Self-consciousness creeps through you as your underwear is cast aside, thighs pressing together to try and hide yourself.

“Cyar’ika…” Hunter tuts, strong hands moving down your body until he can rub and squeeze at your thighs. “Don’t hide from me. Wanna see all of you.” He murmurs, kisses trailing down your body. Tongue gliding across your breasts, he draws a nipple into his mouth, the corners of his lips curling upward as you gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair.

Pleasure rolls through you as you tug gently at Hunter’s brown curls, back arching to press more of yourself against him. He’s warm against you, bronze skin and dark ink pressed as close as possible, and it’s difficult to ignore the weight of his half-hard cock against your thigh.

Switching his focus to your other nipple, Hunter lavishes it with the same attention before he starts to creep back down your body. “Wanna taste you.” He breathes against your stomach, lips drawing across soft skin, fingers teasing your thighs. “Make you feel good.” He adds, pausing to glance up the length of you, finding your eyes focused on him. He can see your trepidation but also your burning curiosity and desire. “No one’s done that for you, have they?” He asks with no judgement.

Embarrassment burns through you, teeth sinking into your lower lip as you shake your head.

Hunter’s heart aches. How had no one loved on you before? Their loss was his gain, he supposed. “That’s okay.” He reassures you, pressing a kiss to the juncture where your thigh and hip meet. “Only if you want.” The reminder is gentle, fingers skirting back up your body to not put pressure on your decision.

You know you could say no, and that would be the end of it, but you’d seen many women enjoying it on the holonet, and they certainly seemed to like it in the novels you vicariously consumed. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to try. “Please.” You push out the word, embarrassment still sitting in your chest, though it evaporates when you meet Hunter’s hungry gaze.

He hadn’t been expecting your agreement, content to work you up in other ways, but that soft little plea from your lips sent fire through his veins. Hands finding your thighs once more, Hunter slowly pushes them apart. “A little wider, baby.” He encourages, a deep groan vibrating in his chest as you follow his order, and he shifts to lay between your thighs, greeted with the prettiest pussy he’s ever seen. Dropping soft kisses to your inner thigh, his tongue darts out to wet his lips.

Eyes flitting up to gauge how you’re faring, his cock twitches where it’s trapped between his body and the mattress as he catches you watching him. Holding your gaze, he leans forward, nose pressing against you as he inhales, committing the intimate scent of you to memory.

He starts slow, a gentle press of his tongue against your entrance, dragging it up through your folds until his tongue flicks over your clit. You jolt, letting out a small keening noise that he’s desperate to hear again.

Spurred on, kitten licks accompany broad, sweeping tastes, soft open-mouthed kisses dropped against heated flesh as Hunter closes his eyes and focuses on bringing you pleasure. His tongue drags across your clit again, and he grunts as your fingers, tangled in his hair, try to drag his face impossibly closer.

You’d watched for as long as you could, engraving the sight of Hunter between your thighs into your mind. Head tilting back, eyes fluttering shut, warmth coils through you. Letting out low whimpers and quiet gasps, your hips rock, chasing the pleasure he’s so beautifully giving you. Now you understood the fuss, why all those women on the holonet and in the novels adored this.

Lips wrap around your clit, and your grip on Hunter’s hair tightens as the pleasure curling through your body climbs, the light suction and the rapid flick of his tongue across the sensitive bud pushing you ever closer to the edge. The warm wetness of his mouth was better than anything you’d ever been able to achieve with your fingers.

“Hunter.” You moan out his name, enjoying the groan he lets out in response. One of his hands slides up the bed, fingers interlacing with those on your free hand as he doubles-down his efforts.

Most of the time, Hunter considers his heightened senses a curse rather than a blessing, but right now, with the scent of you in his lungs, the taste of you on his tongue, and his name falling from your lips like a prayer, he’s never been more grateful for them. Tuning into your body, to every thud of your heart, every sharp inhale, and the little whines you let out, he uses them to guide him until you’re close, teetering on the edge.

Two fingers enter the mix, pressing against your entrance, slipping in with ease as Hunter laves kisses and licks across your folds. His lips find your clit again, applying light suction as he crooks his fingers right against that sweet little spot.

Caught off guard, you come with a cry, the noise echoing in the room as the pleasure that had been building crashes into you. Thigh’s quivering, tiny trembles coast through your body as you pant through the high, body going pliant as your release works out of your system.

Enraptured, the pride Hunter feels is undeniable as he pries his fingers from your pussy, sliding them into his mouth to clean them off and savour the taste of you even more.

Staring up at the ceiling as you drag your breathing under control, a small snort of laughter escapes you. “Oh, stars, you can do that again whenever you want.” You vow quietly, enjoying Hunter’s chuckle as he shifts back over you, capturing your lips for a deep kiss, the tang of you lingering in his mouth.

As Hunter pulls back, he rests on his knees between your thighs, soaking up the sight of you naked. He still can’t believe this is happening, that you’d chosen him.

Your gaze travels over his body – broad shoulders, firm chest, defined abs. He was gorgeous enough to be a carved statue in a fancy Naboo garden. Eyes roaming lower, you swallow at the sight of his cock. Hard and flushed, it twitches with his heartbeat, girthier than you’d expected.

“It’ll fit.” Hunter can’t resist teasing, tattooed hand shifting down so he can give himself a few lazy strokes. The way you watch the movement gives him ideas for the future. “Still want this, love?” He checks in.

Your earlier nervousness is still there, but it’s smothered by anticipation. Eyes flitting up, you meet Hunter’s gaze, parting your thighs just that little bit more.

Delight flares in Hunter’s eyes, and he moves to rest back over you, one hand supporting his weight as the other stays wrapped around his dick. Holding your gaze, he drags the velvety head between your slick folds, enjoying the way your breath stutters as he brushes against your clit.

“I’ve got you, princess.” He coos, lining up before pressing forward. “Doing so well.” Hunter praises, focused on your face and your body’s reaction as he bottoms out, hips flush to yours.

The sensation is unlike anything you’d experienced before. The stretch burns slightly but gives way quickly to pleasure as he feeds the last inch of his cock into your heat. Love and adoration weave through you, that earlier sense of rightness rearing its head as you squirm a little beneath him.

Hunter’s now free hand drops to your hip, grip firm as he holds you still. “Just…give me a second.” He murmurs, voice strained as his eyes close. “Been dreaming about this for a long time, and if I don’t take a few breaths here, I’m gonna kriffing embarrass myself.”

The revelation that he’s dreamt of this moment makes you involuntarily clench around him.

“Not helping…” He growls quietly, words lacking any bite. You feel like heaven, like everything he’s ever wanted and desired.

Mirth dances in your eyes as you lift a hand to trace along his inked jawline, still unable to comprehend that he wants you and that he’s buried inside you, the two of you connected in the most intimate of ways.

Dark eyes snap open at the contact, and Hunter takes you in, soaks in the sight of you sprawled underneath him, hair fanned on the pillow, lips plush from kisses and eyes still a little hazy from your orgasm. “Kriff, baby. I love that no one else has seen you like this, that no one else has felt you before, been inside you. They don’t get to have you, but I do.” He rasps, letting the last fragments of his feelings for you eke out of the box he’d kept them locked away in for far too long. “Feel so good wrapped around my cock.” He groans.

Hand leaving your hip, Hunter tilts your head back up as he sees it start to dip down. “Don’t go getting shy on me now.” He whispers. “Keep those pretty eyes on me.” He slowly draws his hips back, watching as your lips part and the sweetest sound slides from between them as he pushes himself back inside. Hunter takes his time, building up the pace, focusing on every noise you make, every shift of your body, every flutter of your heart.

With every roll of Hunter’s hips, that earlier pleasure starts to build again. Hands grasp at his sweat-dampened shoulders, providing leverage as you move with him, the harsh sounds of your breaths filling the room alongside the noise of your bodies meeting. The air feels hot, matching the heat inside you as Hunter’s lips crash against yours, devouring you. A whine escapes you as his tongue presses forward, tasting you. It’s unrefined and needy, his usual self-control long thrown out of the hotel room window.

“That’s it, baby, that’s it. You can give me one more. I know you can.” Hunter whispers against your lips, pulling back just enough to slide his free hand between your bodies, thrusts never faltering. Dragging his lips across your jaw, he peppers kisses down your throat as his fingers circle over your clit once, twice, and on the third round, he nips at your throat.

The building pleasure slams into you, tipping over into ecstasy as you cry out his name, back arching, and body clenching around him as the high washes through you. Panting for breath, nails digging into Hunter’s shoulders, you coast through the feeling, small shakes rocking your body as Hunter’s hips snap against yours a little roughly.

The way you’d tightened around him, the sound of you crying out his name in the throes of pleasure, it was all too much for Hunter. “Kriff, cyar’ika. Where?” He asks between ragged breaths, thrusts sloppy as he closes in on his own climax.

It’s probably a stupid idea and could go very wrong, but it’s the first one that comes to mind. And you’re desperate to experience it. “In me. Come in me. Please.” You insist.

Hunter crumbles for the second time this evening, unable to deny you anything, consequences be damned. A few more rough thrusts and he’s growling out your name, pressing himself into you as deep as he can get, lips finding yours for a passionate kiss as he finds his own release, cock twitching as he fills you.

His hips slow to a stop, and your kiss turns softer and more reverent as the haze of lust dissipates. Hands stroke across each other’s bodies reverently, lips parting as Hunter mouthes down your throat to the spot he’d nipped earlier, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your skin. He sucks lightly, just to leave the slightest mark, so faint that unless someone was standing right beside you, they wouldn’t see it.

Contentment curls through you, hand brushing Hunter’s hair, fingers snagging on his bandana. Feeling cheeky, you pry it off, wrapping it around your wrist, enjoying how his eyes darken.

“Playin’ with fire again, cyar’ika.” Hunter murmurs, lips moving up to ghost across the shell of your ear.

A smile paints itself on your lips. “If that was me getting burned, then tie me to a stake and call me a Nightsister.”

Hunter’s whole body shakes with his laughter, amusement shining in his pretty brown eyes. “Oh, one day I’ll tie you to something, don’t worry about that.” He vows.

A thrill shoots through you, your own laughter joining his. As it fizzles out and the room falls silent, you’re left staring into each other’s eyes.

“How’d you feel?” Hunter asks, slowly shifting you both down onto your sides. The movement has him slipping from you, and you wince a little. Hunter’s arms loop around you, drawing you close.

“Loved.” You answer honestly.

“Good.” Hunter smooths a hand across your hair, pushing it back from your face. He captures your lips for another soft kiss. “Because you are.” He shares as the kiss breaks.

Warmth sweeps across your cheeks again. He was getting too good at pulling this reaction from you. “As are you.” You reply, wanting to ensure he understands how much you care for him in return.

Hunter’s smile is blinding as he draws you closer, suffocating the space between you, tucking you safely under his chin. Burying his nose in your hair, he inhales deeply, picking up on your combined scent.

As the night draws on, the two of you lay entwined, finding comfort in the shared warmth of your bodies. The soft glow of the cityscape filters through the window, casting a gentle illumination in the room as you share quiet conversations.

As sleep begins to claim you both, you whisper a quiet promise into the stillness of the night. “No matter where the stars take us, I want to be with you.”

Hunter holds you a little tighter, kissing your forehead in silent agreement. Together, you drift into dreams, wrapped in the warmth of love and the certainty that, no matter what challenges awaited, you would face them together.

[asktheisle]

Sometime Later...

[After a bit of traversing from the shoreline, Nat makes it back to the general area of the dragon cave. They hop off the Absol now that they were closer in range to where they had to be, said Absol leading the rest of the trek to the clearing where the others were.]

[A quick clearing of his throat to alert the group of his presence, and he stepped out with a warm smile.]

You must be our guest, huh? I hope you've been treated alright after your landing!

[The human began to make their way into the clearing as they opened the bag on their shoulder and emptied its contents-for the most part some medical supplies and a decent amount of fruits and berries.]

You must be hungry if you've just been sitting around. We didn't catch if you had anything you liked, so I brought a little bit of everything for you to look through and munch on if you want.

(( @askmewntwo ))

[margindoodles2407]

SNOWBALL

----

“And Omega.”

Mayday lifts his head from the 99’s shoulder. His pale face has taken a sudden pain and yearning, and Mayday wonders if he’ll crumble to tears.

Crosshair doesn’t continue, like he did for the previous names. Instead, he sews his lips, discolored purple with the cold, into a thin, trembling line.

Grunting, the older clone tries to push himself further upright against the gritty surface of the rock at his back. Crosshair shifts with him, shaking arms coming to help.

He squeezes his wrist by way of thanks. “Omega? Like Omega Squad?”

The breath hitches, eyes squeezing shut, mouth twisting with such anguish it reminds Mayday of just how young this clone really is.

“No,” comes the broken answer, “Like my daughter.”

Well then. Kriff.

But that name, Omega; it’s a clone name, a designation, he’s certain of it. No nat-born, respectable or not, would use a designation for their offspring.

His question is preceded by a hacking cough, and something icy tells him whatever droplets flies out of his mouth and spatters the inside of his bucket isn’t merely spit. The slender arm curled around his shoulders shifts up to brace a firm hand on his nape, thumb kneading the neck of his blacks.

“Daughter,” he manages to wheeze nevertheless.

The sloping line is bittersweet, the warm glint in dark eyes like stars pin-pricking the void.

“Not my own, unfortunately,” he says, softer than anything Mayday has ever heard in his short life, “She’s a clone, a 99. We found her when she was only a tubie.”

Mayday feels his frozen skin stretch, the stinging pain unable to reason with the shock of this information. A female clone? But why? What purpose did the Kaminoans create her for?

A sudden, hoarse laugh bubbles out of him. “And you adopted her on sight?”

The line grows into a genuine grin, he even sees a sliver of clamped white teeth. “Don’t tell me you’ve looked at a cadet and haven’t wanted to do the same.”

Crosshair has him there. The vod’ike had an annoying tendency of being far too cute for their own good, all chubby-cheeked and curly-haired and big-brown-eyed. It’s one of the implicit reasons the decanting centers and nurseries are, or were, off limits.

Clones with medic training were the sole vode allowed to traverse those forbidden areas, and rumors galore had spread concerning them, especially when a brother returned with softer voice and kinder eyes and gentleness unknown. These traits had been all but hammered out of the clones by the Trainers and Kaminoans; to find it once more in a vod was disconcerting to say the least.

The one cadet Mayday had the pleasure of meeting happened to have fallen out of the vents, smack in the middle of their barracks, taken one look at the astonished and fully kitted clones playing sabacc, then burst into tears right there on the durasteel floor. Five clone troopers, plus the Commander himself, had not been enough to calm him down.

(Now that he actually thinks about it, Mayday’s half certain they’d made it worse.)

Rill, their medic, had to be commed for. It was only after he’d appeared and taken matters into his own hands — literally; he’d scooped up the kihvod into his arms like a sack of rations — that the poor kid had finally calmed down. The cadet had even giggled when Veetch had handed him a smuggled pudding cup.

“Point taken,” huffs Mayday good-naturedly, the memory spreading a warmth throughout his torso.

He lets the comfortable silence stretch between them, lets the cold turbulent winds fill the air with snow. It’s with quite some concern he’s noted a while back that the vod’ika he’s huddled with wears no helmet of his own. When he’d try to insist he wear Mayday’s, he’d received a caustic refusal, too fierce and indignant to be convinced otherwise.

With this worry in mind, Mayday curls closer, slipping an arm around the kid’s back and pulling him close. Crosshair, to his credit, comes willingly, bows his head to rest against Mayday’s bucket, leans so their bodies are pressed against each other.

A thought comes to mind, just as Mayday tastes metal. He taps a nail lightly against the lip of the storm-grey cuirass, a brief chill travelling through his blacks.

“Tell me about her.” Crosshair’s eyes dart, keen as a jai’galaar’s where it pierces through his visor. “Tell me about your daughter, about…Omega.”

Those sharp eyes slide closed, a hissed inhale and exhale following soon after. Briefly, Mayday wonders if he’s injured, but he recognizes the pain strewn on the gaunt face to be the consequence of a wound deeper than flesh and bone.

In a low, haunted, aggrieved voice, Crosshair recounts the few, inadequate days he spent as father to a child dearer than all the stars. And Mayday finds something this vod’ika has lost, something the clones have fought for all their lives.

At last, he finds peace.

SO THAT'S WHERE THAT LINE'S FROM

I AM. THROTTLING YOU (lovingly)

AUGHHHHHHHHHH I AM NOT OKAY

[warnersister]

Chapter 14 - You're needed East

The Hangman Series | Chapter 13 | Chapter 15

you all had arrived in Sacramento some several weeks ago, and you'd gotten settled, Jake had organised you a plot of farmland for you to tend to the animals just like back in Miramar, Bob had re-established himself in his own practitioner's office and you finally felt as though things were starting to turn around and calm down, especially being able to sleep and wake up besides Jake every morning, his folks not blind to two people in love, and not strangers to your name either; and they were happy to set you up until your's and jake's new home as been build a little bit aways from their house.

it was a monday when you were nursing Falcon from his long ride up here, the poor boy nearly on his way our - any day now he was preparing to be with the rest of his family in that mighty field up North; that was what you'd liked to call it anyway. when the news spread around town. a visitor was in, some traveller from Eastern ways, had been traveling for some weeks now with Sacramento as his final destination. youd stood from where you were rested on your knees, heading to the road to see what all the fuss being kicked up was about. then you saw him, the gorgeous mare of Tomcat; and that only meant one thing with his rider atop of him:

Maverick.

you ran over to the man who'd stepped down from his seat, embracing him tightly as he'd offered you a large hug - having missed him for the months you'd been gone. "baby, its your dad" he begins and you eye him almost knowingly "he's dying, girl. for good this time, 'nd he wants to see y' before he goes" he says and you sigh, conflicted "i can't just up 'nd leave-" he says but he cuts you off "no, he dont just want you, he wants y'all back. you, jake, rooster, the lot of ya." he says "look if this is some elaborate plot-" you begin again and he shakes his head deniably "no girl, eight weeks Bates has given 'im, reckon he's only hanging on to see ya." he says, honestly "he asked me five times over to come 'nd get ya, i said no so many times. but he started to beg, honey. on his knees to go fetch ya. Nat told me where t'find ya, didn't want to bother ya but the look on his face was haunting" he recalls and you go to speak before a voice does before you.

"we'll leave at sunrise" Jake agrees, wrapping an arm around your waist and shaking Maverick's hand with his free. "good t'see ya, son" Maverick smiles, "you too, Mav". that evening, you went around the group, Bob and Coyote not really putting up much of a fight and willing to traverse back; Rooster, not so much. he refused a few times, arguing with Maverick, but when you approached and he realised that you were just as apprehensive as he was, he agreed "fine, but only f'her." he says after a while, shooing them off again so he could get his horse ready for another long travel.

the ride felt shorter on the way back then it did on the way to California, maybe it was because you were secretly excited for a fresh start, for unknowing. but really you knew it was because you were dreading heading back to Miramar, truthfully you had no intent of ever going back if you had the choice, but there you could see it, that dirtied up and faded all sign that read out the infamous name you'd loved for so long. "y'ready?" maverick asked and you shook your head honestly, looking at him "no, pete. im not" he sighs, continuing forward knowing you'd never truly be prepared to return to Miramar, but he also knew that Beau Simpson's time was cut very short. he wanted you to have piece of mind if anything, he'd rather be the one to bring you back than the one to bear the news of his passing. you shared a look and you nodded at him, riding into the town for the final time.

Chapter 13 | Chapter 15

[starnico]

The Edge

Born to tall spires of glass and grey

Tumbleweeds crumbled, bones to decay

Miniature humanoids are in my bed

I’m jumping now but flying instead

Using a tesseract, I travel through time

Taking my clothes off, I’m making a dime

Roll a nat 20, fight crime with a show

I was too innocent, too young to know

Blood over birthday cake, broken and bruised

Slicing blades were thoroughly used

Strung up on wires, Grandma was hanging

But through the wardrobe, Aslan was waiting

Jumping blindly, from stage to the ground

A small kitten girl, the party has found

Falling in love, this time so true

Joining a gang, the Kuronekocon crew

For a while all I did was talk to a tree

Then I made it to a land where monsters roam free

Choose-your-own-adventure is where it was at

Green little goblin, poised for combat

Building a castle for children to grow

Undulating bubbles that we did not blow

Once I dove deep and screamed out in fear

“Don’t look” command the voices that I do hear

Devious devils drag me from my dreams

Lady Amalthea’s hair is spun of moonbeams

I’m on the naughty list, a stocking to be hung

Telling our tales through epics to be sung

Watching a man fall face first to the ground

A little black bunny, a best friend that I found

Staring in mirrors in search of a soul

My feet ache, jumping pole to pole

Drew has a mystery she’s out working

Ravenclaw busts a move, see her twerking

Dimension door to dragon’s wing

Out on every night just to sing

Pikachu faints dancing Gangnam Style

Go to the hospital and stay there a while

Traversing realms beyond understanding

Our colony ship comes in for a crash landing

Here comes the Boogie Man, taking the stage

Planning generations down on the page

Knocked out by Amtrak out on the field

Marrying the sword lovingly to shield

Through a portal to another dimension

On medication for nightmare prevention

Mercedes Lackey fills my shelves

Advertising as Christmas elves

[sayit3x]

Mrs. Bea Juice’s Journal #11

We crossed the border heading north, leaving Neither-Italy, our home country for almost 200 years, behind. We decided to ride invisibly in the land of the living for a while, since none of us had ever left Italy before and were curious about the country beyond. As we traversed the alps, it was as if we'd stepped into a mythical landscape. Every view felt like a hand-crafted masterpiece, with sprawling green hills, towering mountains, serene lakes, and rushing waterfalls. It was absolutely stunning, and I was grateful to experience it with my family, even under the worst circumstances.

As usual, I rode in Betel's wagon and Donny rode in Nat’s, following close behind. We took a break in a blooming field, teeming with the new buds of spring. I made Donny a flower crown as Nat tended to the needs of our dead horses and Betel sprawled in the grass, staring at the clouds overhead. The twins still weren't speaking, or at least Betelgeuse wasn't doing any of the talking. But that they could even be in the same proximity without a fight was tremendous progress on Betel's part. I think his nearly fatal trial and the heavy price he paid made him wary of losing what little he had left, including the brother that, on the surface, annoyed him so much.

What would later be called the Old Swiss Confederacy was impressive, the city of Zurich in particular. Zurich was a bustling hub for trade and the textile industry was growing, which made it easier for Betel to get his hands on striped fabrics. His wardrobe always reflected the style of the times, but I noticed he was developing an affinity for black and white stripes. He had his striped trousers, or braies, when he was alive, but I didn't think he'd maintain stripes when other options were available after he died. But he did. Even as fashion changed, his adaptation always incorporated black and white stripes somewhere and, as the centuries wore on, it would become a larger part of his ensemble.

But textiles may have been the only thing in Zurich that came to us easily. Even after we got settled, Betel struggled to find consistent haunting jobs. What little reputation he’d built back up in Italy meant nothing in this new country, so he had to start all over. We hadn’t yet mastered German, so the language barrier remained challenging. Betel quickly worked through the few pockets of Italian ghosts residing in the city and, as we started picking up other romance languages, Betel was running out of French ghost clients as well. 

Our unease in Zurich was compounded by the threat of civil war growing on the horizon. As much as we admired the ferocious tenacity of the Swiss Guard, at that point, we were keen to continue our streak of dodging impending conflict. Between the communication challenges and the encroaching promise of bloodshed, we barely stayed a year before carrying on to France. Ever the weary, nomadic dead.

This journal dovetails into a fanfiction epic that I'm posting chapter by chapter every week here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63522586/chapters/162777649

[allieebobo]

To the person who recommended Cœur de pirate's Place de la République in the poll:

Not an ask but I just wanted to thank you for sharing the song (loved the music video as well) It really reminded me of visiting an ex in Paris for a couple of days while I was doing my master's in the UK.

It was late November and colder than Paris has any right to be and I have this distinct memory of walking down the Seine at night, shivering (as usual) and wondering if maybe letting her go without more of a fight was the worst decision I ever made in my life, and whether it was too late to do something rash (also on-brand).

Spoiler-alert, after those couple of days I went back to the UK feeling like I'd gotten a glimpse of what life would've been like if we'd stayed together, and although it was sweet and tender and everything I'd imagined it to be, it would never be reality. So I went back and finished the 5,000-word essay that I had left to the very last moment, and let the week together fade slowly into memory like a good dream.

So, yup, if your intention was to remind me of those times, you succeeded congrats, you won the game. (Extracted the lyrics that really hit me—Google-translated, I'm so sorry it probably only sounds 20% as good as the original—below the cut.)

P.S. That ex is 50% of Nat in the Merry Crisis universe. Also, probably the reason why there's a French exchange student who leaves MC at the end of the year in CT:OS. Aight, now y'all know more about me than you ever asked to hahaha.

And I don't know if you're worth it anymore It's rather hard to be sure

Et je ne sais plus si tu en vaux la peine C'est plutôt dur d'en être certaine

And as you can see it's the end I must cross the ocean tomorrow morning From your arms I will slide out ever so gently And it's reality that awaits me I know your heart is already inhabited by one or more girls that have marked you

Et comme tu vois c'est bien la fin Je dois traverser l'océan demain matin De tes bras, je m'arracherai tout doucement Et c'est la réalité qui m'attend Je sais ton cœur est habité Par une ou d'autre fille qui t'ont marquées

[arlathen]

Hey, hope you are doing great! Been wondering what kind of mods you used on your "random skyrim scenery" post? That Blackreach alone is soo goddamn pretty!

oh, thank you so much!!! i'm so sorry to say that i have. 1300 mods jacked into this game.

i think the main ones of relevance are lux (+lux via +lux orbis), all of jk's mods (cities + interiors), NAT III weathers and rudy ENB for NAT III :)

in blackreach i've also got 3D dwemer sun + lux/ENB light patch + high poly blackreach mushrooms + blackreach tentacle mesh fix. and the crimson nirnroot is mari's with the enb light patch

OH and the trees are from traverse the ulvenwald, that's my favorite tree mod

if i ever post a gif or screenshot and you want to know where something is from i am ALWAYS happy to share.

[letsgethaunted]

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The Lost Fur Trappers of Lava Lake

Welcome to the photo dump for “Episode 195: The Lost Fur Trappers of Lava Lake”! In 1924, 3 fur trappers were murdered outside their cabin in the Deschutes Forest in Oregon. Found floating in Lava Lake after the ice thawed, their slaying has never been solved. Join Aly and Nat as we discuss the murders and also explore several other small tales of hauntings which occurred nearby.

Swipe through key images and videos from this week’s episode here!

IMAGE 01: Welcome to the photo dump! IMAGE 02: Before blasting off for the lunar surface, the Apollo 11 astronauts paid a visit to Central Oregon to test themselves and their equipment against the volcanic surface of the Cascade Mountains, between which is nestled Lava Lake. (Moon Country exhibit at High Desert Museum, ABC News) IMAGE 03: Here are some illustrations of settlements and trails traversed by early Fur Trappers. On the right, we see the fur trapper nat was thirsting for and his fashionable ‘fit. IMAGE 04: Here we see two pictures of the cabin where the men were staying in the winter of 1923-1924. The upper photo shows them standing alive, posing for the photo in front of their cabin. IMAGE 05: The search party uses a boat to look for the missing fur trappers. IMAGE 06: The search party pulls one of the men to shore, who has likely been deceased under the frozen ice of the lake for months. IMAGE 07: Two more men are found floating in the lake near a hole that had been cut into the ice. By April of 1924, the ice had thawed enough that the men were visible while the search party paddled their boat. IMAGE 08: A “Wanted “ sign for Charles Kimzy, one of the main suspects for the unsolved murders. He was never convicted of this particular murder, but he did have a long criminal history. IMAGE 09: Ray Van Buren’s mug shot. Suspected of being a serial killer, Van Buren is another suspect in the murders. IMAGE 10: The 3 fur trappers were buried together, side by side, in an Oregon cemetery. To this day, the murders remain unsolved.

[intcritus]

“It’s nothing… don’t worry about it. Just been studying a lot.” The excuse passes lips easily with a shrug of shoulders, but it is one that Natsuo will not be able to hold onto much longer. The bruise-rimmed eyes will not be explained by a poor night’s sleep when the stain remains embedded in skin and the summer stops him hiding the state of his body, bruise and pockmarked from his choices to remain at his brother’s side that are yet to be revealed to the public. Trigger is the foulest of concoctions, and while he can mitigate a lot of the damage with his medical knowledge for now, soon he will be beyond the help prevention and support can offer. It will be worth it though, just to see the whole farce burn. “Tell me more about you though… how’s the teaching going?” He transitions from the topic of himself with ease, a friendly smile and a hand at his nape in the manner of a caught out younger brother, a practiced art that he clings to for cover. He does not care for much that is left of the rotting carcass of their family, but she and Shoto care the two he can actively offer what little he holds onto. “Got any new stories to share?” As he speaks, he nods towards the tea, indicating that he will pour it if she desires a cup, content to do so while she fills the space between them with tales of her week. If only they were capable of tearing him from the dark path he has traversed down. (for vigilante fuyu & villain natsu )

❝ ━ If you’re studying that hard, Nat, then you need to start investing in some breaks. It looks like you’ve done a whole week of allnighters. It’s not healthy, you’ll get sick like that. ❞ Fuyumi liked to think her reasoning and ability to observe had gotten a little strong during her vigilante work. She started noticing things, more so to keep herself safe but also to react in time should she or someone she was rescuing be in the thick of danger. During the thick of night, after being a teacher all day to her class, she wasn’t Fuyumi, she was Polaris, and though she hadn’t exactly chosen the name on purpose, it’s the first that coated her tongue when someone asked. It could be confusing when only Polar even hinted at her quirk.

Regardless of all this, her observation is the reason why she begins to worry about her brother. A couple of sleepless nights could explain the dark circles, maybe but there was something about that was truly bothering her. And like any big sister ( there’s nothing usual about this family ) Fuyumi relents, simply because she doesn’t want to push. ❝ ━ Ny class is starting to think about their future, some want to be heroes, others want to dive into traveling abroad, being writers. They’re still small, but they have big dreams, ❞ She chuckles softly, settling down and reaching for her mug as he fills it.

Idly, Fuyumi considers her brothers, not just Natsuo and Shoto, but Toya as well – where they would be and what they’d be like if they weren’t born into this family. Would fate have them walking down darker paths ? Would they even be siblings ? Fuyumi wasn’t naive to think they wouldn’t be, but perhaps the concept of a childhood wouldn’t make her feel dread upon its remembrance. Natsuo’s anger wouldn’t be a palpable thing. Shoto wouldn’t feel guilty just for being born. Toya would still be here, perhaps with a whole future ahead of him.

❝ ━ We’re taking a field trip soon, they opted on the aquarium and I couldn’t tell them no. It’s always so fun to think about their excited faces even when seeing something like fish. They’re able to enjoy the simple things with such vigor. ❞ She smiles gently, drawing her fingers along her mug, bringing it to chapped lips and taking a long sip, letting the warmth sink into her palms. She continues to tell her little brother about how the kids banded together for a chance to use instruments, or them arguing over something silly, and how good they’ve been with the little quizzes she’d given them. A proud teacher for having such brilliant students.

Fuyumi knows there’s danger in the path she’s taking now, coming home in the dark of the night with bruises and cuts she has to stitch herself. It’s not a hardship but in the mornings after, she’s sore and stiff. There’s not an ounce of regret though. So as she watches Natsuo from beneath the fringe of her lashes, Fuyumi has to wonder, even if he’s staying up late studying, why she gets such an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Maybe she should watch him a little more closely, just to make sure ? Assuage  her big sister instincts ?

her big sister instincts are flaring. | @resolutepath

[murtmurtmurtmurtmurtmurtmurt]

Eif skoly osis rek geve as to dactor smal peenie hie well coek mie :'c

i wille nat let dat happen.. brodther... >:~{ i eim give u a bit of me powar. u r nao abel 2 traverse da tiem lines, conjur up demon, ande kille pepol wifth ur mind :~} use me as ur conduiet. thru me u wille be abel 2 becum a god :~D

[jakepullsthetrigger]

Can't decide what to watch and ended up picking a science documentary instead. Nat Geo: Journey to the Edge of the Universe while trying to finish a bottle of Tequila. Gaaddd I'm tired of this path I'm traversing. I just wanna be with the stars up above knowing that someone down here is admiring, and appreciating my beauty, or maybe a blackhole cause I just keep on dragging people in my silent yet destructive nature. Hehehe. Hello, Jake. Kumusta? I hope you're doing fine. What's your go-to series/movie to watch? Or a go to playlist?

-JC

Hi. Last night, I fell asleep crying while listening to random sad songs popping in my head. I think they were able to somehow form a playlist. Sharing some of the songs that I can still remember here:

1. Luna - The Cheats

2. Listen Before I Go - Billie Eilish

3. Fix You - Coldplay

4. Never Felt So Alone - Labyrinth

5. Numb Little Bug - Slo

Life is tiring, still. Let’s talk?

[harrowharkwife]

tell me about i wanna hold the hand inside you <3

i wanna hold the hand inside you (strange you never knew)... LOTTIENAT FIC MY BELOVED!!!

this is the pre-crash '96 lottienat best friends to lovers fic where, bless her heart, nat's crush on lottie has her juuuuust lovedumb and besotted enough to not realize that when lottie says things like "oh i stopped drinking a couple hours ago so i could drive you home from this party," or "oh you should just stay at my place tonight so i can keep an eye on you," or "next time you drop acid you should do it at my house so i can tripsit you," what she MEANS is, yes, "i care about you and want you to be safe," but ALSO, "i'm so in love with you it makes me look stupid and have thus painstakingly crafted a seduction plan i like to call Harm Reduction-ing My Way Into Your Heart"

snippet!!

Which, like, in her defense- she's high as a kite, and Lot's wearing that long lilac satin slip dress she stole from Macy's last summer over a black high-neck pussybow blouse with long, gauzy sleeves. Knowing Lottie, she's willing to bet good money that it's the kind of blouse that has a neat row of buttons running all down the back, the fancy gumdrop-shaped satin ones that always remind her of old wedding dresses. Lottie likes that kind of thing. It's the kind of outfit that somehow manages to make Nat feel downright Victorian despite its overall modesty: a bizarre sort of dizziness at the sight of exposed wrists or a bare neck, like she might faint just from glimpsing an inch or two of shin. Ridiculous. Lottie being unreasonably pretty is nothing new, but it's also just one of those facts of the universe that's generally easier to deal with if Nat avoids looking straight at it. In any case: it's a day that ends in -y, Natalie Scattorcio is privately salivating over a pretty girl again like one of Pavlov's gay little purse dogs, and Lottie Matthews is hurtling over speed bumps like it's her job, none of which are surprising in the slightest. Especially that last part. Lot's just like this, is the thing. Nat would like to think she's gotten used to it by now, but that might just be wishful thinking on her part, because no matter how zen you are in the passenger seat, Lottie Matthews can seemingly always manage to find another curb to hit. They get home safe in the end though, of course- they always do. Lottie's careful where it counts. Which, speaking of- "Careful, watch the step," Lottie cautions, as if Nat's traversing this driveway for the first time or something, which is laughable in light of the fact that she'd arguably spent more time at Lottie's place than her own over the course of the summer. But the laugh in her voice rings warm and rich in Nat's ear, and she reaches out to steady her with a hand at her waist, so Nat says nothing in lieu of letting Lottie fuss over her a little. Which is probably for the best, because she trips over her own feet ten seconds later, and Lottie's grip on her waist is the only thing that narrowly saves her from tumbling ass over tits over bootlaces as they make their way up the front steps of the Matthews McMansion. Her luck ends there, though: Lottie manages to keep her upright, but not even Mother Mary herself could have saved Nat from the humiliation of puking, rather violently and spectacularly, over the railing and onto Mrs. Matthew's bed of marigolds. "Oh, honey. At least you've got good aim. Let's get you cleaned up, c'mere." "Please, let's," Nat agrees, weakly. Hail Lottie, full of grace.

[burlveneer-music]

VA - AFRICAMORE - The Afro-Funk side of Italy (1973-1978)

Continuing Four Flies' dedication to delving into lesser-explored periods of Italian music, Africamore takes us on a captivating journey into the intersection of Afro-funk and the Italian soundscape during the six years between 1973 and 1978 - a time when disco was looming on the horizon and the nightclub market was rapidly expanding. Before reaching Italian shores, the infectious sound originating from African and Afro-Caribbean roots traversed both the Mediterranean and the Atlantic, landing on New York dancefloors, where DJ Dave Mancuso discovered "Soul Makossa" by Manu Dibango. In 1973, from Mancuso's Loft parties, the song's hypnotic groove spread to the rest of the globe, including in Italy, where it sparked a wave of imitations and variations. Tribal influences thus found their way into Italian soul-funk and early-disco productions released between 1973 and 1978 – from psychedelic-tinged tunes like Jean Paul & Angelique's "Africa Sound" to the Afrobeat-inspired club banger "Kumbayero" by composer/producer Albert Verrecchia (aka Weyman Corporation); and from groundbreaking Afro-cosmic songs like Chrisma's "Amore", co-written by Vangelis and featuring the rhythms of Ghanaian-British Afro-rock band Osibisa, to mind-blowing floor-fillers like Beryl Cunningham's "Why O", a re-write of Nat King Cole's "Calypso Blues" arranged by Paolo Ormi, with percussion breaks that sound pretty much like what would later become known as techno. Combining feel-good vibes with driving rhythms, world-style percussion, and even synths, all these productions pushed the boundaries of dance music at a time when disco had not yet taken over. In doing so, they sowed many of the seeds of the later Italian cosmic scene and its unique mixture of African elements, disco-funk and electronic music. This was a brief but nuanced period in Italian music history, one that deserves to be rediscovered, with love. Africamore is due out on March 22nd and will be available as a gatefold 2LP and digipak CD. Both formats come with stunning artwork by Kathrin Remest and liner notes by Pierpaolo De Sanctis and Elena Miraglia.