#pictures of dumpster sizes

[eetherealgoddess]

Can we get another hybird fic?

ꨄOur Pet Humanꨄ

Oneshot - Yandere Hybrid Au

❦You’re a human surviving in the world of hybrids❦

Sano Manjiro, Hanemiya Kazutora, Sanzu Haruchiyo, & Haitani Brothers x Reader

❣︎Also, the other bonten members (except mochi) are in this story❣︎

Not fully proofread!

Japanese language is red

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR & AO3 UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Our Pet Human

You ignore the filthy fumes sneaking into your nostrils as you use your hands to dig through the piles of trash lying inside the dumpster. You tear open a bag or two as you go, searching for any kind of food you could get your paws on. You ignore the pain forming in your stomach from the lack of nutrients, sweat falling down your forehead as half of your body is hanging inside the compartment. The last meal you consumed was from the company you were transferred to, auctioned off to the highest bidder just for the cycle to repeat.

At the time you were so focused on escaping that you forgot to think about the long term effects like food supply, shelter, clothing, etc. You snatch the half eaten treat and push against the dumpster until you’re on your feet. You shove the delicacy in your mouth quickly before chewing fast, a few crumbs falling from your face. You wipe your mouth using the back of your wrist. You drop your body to the concrete next to the dumpster, pulling your knees under your chin. You lie your arms across as you lean your head over, face resting against your legs.

You reminisce about the time in which you lived normally when humans were at the top of the hierarchy. Hybrids were a recent creation, only having been a result of an experimentation your species studied. By chance, they were able to manipulate the scientists into believing that they would make the perfect pets. Time went on as the hybrids were bought and sold, mostly by the rich. Once there were plenty out of their cages, they took over by force.

Blood was everywhere as chaos filled the streets. One by one families and individuals who owned the species were slaughtered just as the hybrids figured out their own control system, mimicking the humans idea by selling humans to anyone who’d buy depending on the ‘quality.’ As a human, you could be sold as a pet, servant, maid, heat guide, or even food. You could’ve been sold as anything though after you were caught and switched from country to country, you had enough. You didn’t agree with the idea when humans ruled and you definitely don’t agree with how things are now.

You lift your head slightly before eyeing the bruises and cuts that lathered your arms and legs. There is a medium sized tear on your grimy shirt, displaying some of the marks on your torso. You sigh before brainstorming your next move. Pulled out of your head, you hear footsteps coming near. Your eyes widen as you cover your mouth. You look around swiftly, noticing your lack of escape routes as you use your other arm to tighten the grip around your legs, the feeling of being stuck prominent.

Fuck, why did my stupid ass rest here?

You could only remain stationary as the footsteps grew louder, indicating the close vicinity of the stranger. You make an attempt at making yourself smaller as you scoot closer to the corner where the dumpster and wall meet, your back against the large object as you continue to hold your knees against your chest. You were nervous of the hybrid’s ability to sniff out the prey, hoping that the garbage smell will cover your natural scent.

Your breath hitches as you look straight ahead, the footsteps halting in front of the dumpster, slightly diagonal to where you’re hiding. You hear a low hum before the footsteps return though the sound seems to shrink as a minute passes. You slowly peak from the side of the garbage and eye the figure walking back in the direction they came. You eye his tall torso and broad shoulders, the white leopard printed tail swaying behind him as he slowly strides away, a hand running through his short lilac locks, bringing your attention to the ears that have the same print as his tail.

You release a sigh before turning back into your position, only to release a gasp as sharp blue eyes fill your vision. The pink haired man snatched your arm before you could react, his blonde yet spotted ears falling back as his tail thrashed. His claws pierce your skin which caused a sharp pain to shoot up your arm. He pulls you to eye level as you grimace.

“What do you think you’re doing here, human?” The jaguar says in a language you don’t understand. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you explain, “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

He stares at you for a moment before a grin reaches his expression. The purple suited man drags you along, following the same path as the leopard from before.

You struggle in his grip as he pulls you along seeming to do no damage as he didn’t release his hold. You gasp as he squeezed your wrist painfully. You pull your other arm back and land a fist on his shoulder before aiming at his head, only for him to dodge it and grab your fist, yanking you to fall on your knees in front of him. He released you before grabbing your chin and pulling you forward as he leaned over.

“Behave.” He states in your language, giving you a stern look. His sharp gaze pierced your soul as you suck your teeth in annoyance.

“Then let me go.” You demand. An eyebrow raised on his face as he smirked.

“We’re gonna fix that mouth of yours.” He released your chin before snatching you by the collar and pulling you along once more. You allow him to act this time, not wanting to push your luck and become his next meal. You’re forced to head towards the large building. Once you enter, your orbs meet with purple.

“Hm. I thought I smelled a pesky little vermin.” A sly grin falls upon the familiar male’s face as he observes you. You glare at his insult, planning a retort though another hybrid beat you to it.

“All I smell is garbage. Is that where you found this thing, Sanzu?” The male standing to the right of the short haired man, his ears and tail matching that of the taller male. Purple bangs hover over his eyes as he gives you a blank stare, his hands hidden inside of his pockets. You eye the matching symbol on his neck and guess that the two purple eyed men must be siblings. He turns his attention to the pink haired jaguar after the last sentence, his tail hanging low, twitching at the end.

“I brought a gift for Mikey.” Sanzu gives a pleased smile as he walks to the elevator, continuing to force you along as the brothers follow along.

“Shouldn’t you give it a bath first? I’m curious to see it all cleaned up.” The taller man leaned his back against the wall of the elevator. You could only switch your gaze back and forth as you couldn’t decipher their conversation, giving up and turning away with your own arms crossed. After the shorter leopard pressed a button, you felt the room move upward.

Once you make it to the correct floor, you all walk off once the elevator doors slide open. The hand on your collar moves to one of your wrists as you’re guided to a door at the end of the hall, stumbling behind the three pigmented men. Just as the two brothers walked in, Sanzu halts before making an entrance, glancing at you before pursing his lips and turning around, walking in the opposite direction.

“Where are we going?” You question in confusion. He ignored you as you were dragged once more down the hall and back to the elevator.

Once you reach a floor higher, you’re forced out of the elevator as you take in the surroundings of what seems to be a common area. Once he reaches the bathroom, he places his hands on your shoulders and forces you to sit on the toilet. Just as you were about to question him, he walks out, slamming and locking the door behind him.

After a moment of silence, the lock is turned and a human woman walks in. You watch as she walks to the bathtub, turning the faucet on and setting all the necessities in place.

“H-hey I can bathe myself, you know?” You grasp her attention by tapping her shoulder after you had shot up from your seat. You pause when she turns to look at you with bloodshot eyes.

“P-please, just… j-just allow me to complete my task, Ms.” Her voice trembled as she eyed you with pure terror in her eyes.

You eye her for a moment with bewilderment. You observe the scars and bruises you hadn’t noticed when she first walked in. You know that hybrids are usually terrible when it comes to properly caring for the human species. You snarled as your hands turned to fists. You quietly nod and begin to undress once everything is ready.

She gives you privacy as you climb into the large tub, the suds covering your body as you lean against the back of the surface. Although you wished for a shower, you knew anything was better than wearing the same dirty clothes for any longer.

After the process was over, you were guided to a bedroom. Your eyes widen at the display lying on the bed. A black ruffled collar sat on the comforter as well as a black leash. On closer inspection the collar had a mixture of red and black ruffled lace as well as a red heart hanging as the identification tag.

“No fucking way.” You breathe out. You were upset and angry, not having expected any better from the hybrid species but also missed the sense of freedom you had for a while before getting caught once more. You went through so much just to return being some stupid pet for these abominations.

The woman flinched as you snatched the collar and leash, throwing them to the ground and releasing a few curses. You only stopped when you heard a whimper behind you, thinking you had accidentally scared the fellow human you turn your body around only to be met with an unfamiliar male. Your body jolted in surprise.

The man observes the situation as you return the same gaze, eyeing the tiger tattoo that caught your attention, your eyes moving up to his facial features that consist of a beauty mark right under his eye as well as large golden eyes boring into you. His hair falls down, two blonde strands in front of his face and black locks falling behind, slightly covering the tattoo. You glance at the tiger printed ears at the top of his head. He tsked after waving the woman off and slowly shaking his head, walking towards you, his tail high with a small hook at the end.

“That wasn’t very nice. Don’t you think you should be a little more grateful?” He placed his hands in his pockets as he awaits a response, shifting his gaze to the accessories lying on the floor. He crouched down and grabbed the items, placing them back on the bed.

You couldn’t fully read him. He seems as though he is a laid back guy but considering the reaction the other human had, you knew not to push your luck with your words. You knew it could get you in some trouble.

After silence fills the room, he gently taps his lap as one of his ears that stood up slightly twitched. He gives you a smile as he waits for you to move. You look down where his hand is before glaring at his face. You shook your head. An eyebrow raises as a frown falls on his face, his ears slightly pulled back before returning to their placement.

“What’s your name?” You pause in contemplation before answering.

“Y/n.” He hums as he nods. Suddenly, he seizes your wrist before pulling you on top of him, forcing your knees on each side of his lap as your weight sinks on the bed. You eye him with wide eyes as he gazes up at you, arms snaking around your waist as you're forced in place. Your hands meet his shoulders to steady yourself.

“I don’t want to be mean, Y/n.” He starts off, shifting his attention to the collar and leash before turning back to you. “You see, this kind of behavior is unacceptable.” You hold back a shiver as a cold hand places itself under your shirt and on your lower back.

“I’m giving you a chance to take your punishment like the good girl I know you can be.” One of his hands moves to your chin, claws poking your skin. He gives you a closed eye smile before saying, “So don’t test my patience, okay?”

You didn’t know how to respond, not wanting to conform and also not wanting to test this guy’s boundaries. It was at this moment you realized that you have no clue who these hybrids are and what they’re capable of. You gag on the inside as you obey, nodding in response to let him know you’re listening.

“Awe, you’re already being so good for me.” He beamed while caressing your cheek. “How about I let you off with a warning?” You hold back the disgusted look that wanted to fall on your face, thankful that you weren't going to receive whatever he had in store for you.

He grabs the collar before securing it around your neck, as well as hooking the leash. “My name is Kazutora but you’re gonna call me Master anyway. I just want you to know the difference between me and the others.” He pats your thigh before gently pushing you off of him, your feet connecting to the floor.

He pulls you along by the leash, walking to the elevator and entering once the doors opened. After you reach the designated floor, he pulls you down the familiar hall and to the door that the man you remembered to be ‘Sanzu’ hadn’t allowed you to walk into.

Once you enter, you see a long table in the middle of the room, along with six other men sitting at the table. You couldn’t help but feel intimidated when all the sharp gazes shift to you. The aura of the room was suffocating, your instincts kicking in as your body tightened up. You knew just by the look of everyone in the room, you were amongst some of the most dangerous hybrids.

A platinum haired male released a huff, his ears pressed against his head as well as his tail low though twitching at the end. His fingers meet his temple as he rubs along.

“Do you know how much this thing is going to cost to take care of it?” The cheetah hybrid growled, glaring at the pink haired jaguar who smirked in return.

“It’s not like we don’t have enough money, Koko.”

“That’s not the point.” He hissed, fangs bare as his tail slowly thrashed.

“I think it’ll be good having it around” The older Haitani states as he takes a sip of his glass.

“That’s because you only want to fuck it, you don’t have me fooled.” The man with a scar over his eye chuckled, a cigarette hanging outside of the corner of his mouth. You guessed his relation is somehow with the man with scars on his mouth considering the same pattern they have plastered on their ears and tail.

“So what, Takeomi? What else is it good for besides a heat guide?” The younger Haitani questions, one ear flat as the other sticks up as well as his cheek leaning on the palm of his hand. As everyone converses, Kazutora pulls you along to awkwardly stand next to his seat as he sits down at the table.

“It doesn’t matter what any of you think. It’s up to our boss.” The great dane says, a stern look on his face as he sits with a leg crossed over the other. His arms are crossed as he leans against the back of the chair, his black tail still as his ears hang from his head. His heterochromia eyes slanted as a look of irritation crossed his face. Once the boss was mentioned, everyone except you shifted their gaze to the white haired lion that sat at the end of the table.

You had no clue what was going on, having not understood a word though only understanding everyone’s tense body language when you followed their gazes to a short man with dark eyes. He stares ahead as you observe his features, his ears sticking straight up, though from your angle you couldn’t see his tail. Finally, his dark orbs meet yours, catching you off guard and forcing you to look away considering the eye contact.

Before he says anything, the door swings open, revealing a random man who resembles the features of a bear and the human woman you met earlier dragged in by the bicep. You watch with your eyebrows furrowed as he tossed her into the room, her hands stopping her face from meeting the floor followed along with a grunt.

He stood back against the door with his arms crossed as he eyed the situation, awaiting instructions. She trembles against the floor, looking back and forth between the men and you in fear. A look of confusion crossed your face as you watched the display.

“Ran.” The lion says, nodding over to the woman. A smile crossed the tall leopard’s face as his ears and tail perked up.

“Yes, sir.” He says, standing from his seat as an object in his hand is revealed. You eye the silver weapon that seems to get longer after he flicks his wrist.

“N-no, please! I-I’m sorry!” The woman cries out, crawling back as she cowers down. You gasp as the realization clicks on what he’s about to do with the baton.

You make an attempt to run towards her shaking figure, only to be reminded of the collar around your neck as Kazutora yanks your leash back.

“Sit.” He yanks once more, a harsher tug that forces you to fall backwards on your derrière.

“Fuck!” You hiss in pain only for a stinging sensation on your cheek to appear as your head is forced the opposite way. A hand on your chin pulls your face towards his as he leans over in his chair.

“I should hear no bad words coming from that mouth.” He gives you a bored look before returning his gaze to the display. You pant as you look over at the human woman in concern.

“P-please don’t do thi-!” A loud crack echoed throughout the room, followed by another and another along with the woman’s grunts. You stare wide eyed as his arm pulls back before slamming down on the woman’s back. She limps to the ground, barely awake as her body twitches. You watch as blood leaks out of her mouth, oozing on the floor as her head lies down.

He lands another harsh hit to her back using both hands on the handle before landing another once more. Your own hands shake as they reach your ears once you shut your eyes tightly. You hope that it’ll be over soon, though you don’t know if she’ll survive. With a last resounding crack, the purple eyed man finally stops his assault and steps back. He flips the body using his foot though she only fell back into place, the side of her face against the floor as her stomach is attached to the ground.

Just as you opened your eyes and removed your hands, you gaze at her lifeless form. A looming darkness hovers over you as your stomach feels itself drop, bringing your knees to your chest as a few tears begin to fall. Your lip quivers as you observe her still body.

To think that I saw her only just a while ago alive and walking.

Footsteps could be heard in the quiet room, the lion stepping forth and halting when he stood next to the corpse. He crouched down, grabbing the collar of her shirt and standing up, her body hanging from his hold. The platinum haired male shifted his gaze to you.

“Let this be a lesson, Y/n.” You glared when he dropped the body and walked to his seat.

“Dismissed.”

You stared at the bowl sitting on the floor from where you sat in the dining room of their shared penthouse. It was supposed to be a full human meal but resembled the containers of wet food you’d get for your regular cats you had before the take over. This was a common way for hybrids to feed their humans. It depends on the owner whether or not you’re allowed to eat with your hands.

“Why are you not eating, Y/n?” Ran questions from where he sits on the chair next to you. Looking up at him and back to the bowl, you frowned.

“I can’t eat like this.” In fact, you never had to before. When you were with the initial abductors they would just throw a bowl in the cages but wouldn’t stay to watch so you’d just eat with your hands like a normal human.

“You’re lucky to be fed at all.” Rin rolled his eyes as he grabbed your bowl.

Ran tsked before leaning over, catching you off guard and pulling your body onto his lap. Rin passed the bowl to his brother and leaned back in his seat, using a lighter to burn the end of a blunt before setting it to his mouth.

You look at Ran with wide eyes as you shift uncomfortably on his lap. His chest rumbled from his deep chuckle.

“Don’t be so rude, brother. The kitty only wanted to be fed.” Your face heats up in embarrassment.

“That’s far from what I wanted!” A harsh smack on your thigh caused you to wince.

“Do we need to buy a muzzle for it?” Rin questioned as he pulls another hit before blowing the smoke out in your direction.

“That wouldn’t be a terrible idea.” Ran says as he uses chopsticks to pick up a piece of your food, bringing it to your lips.You hesitate out of pride, turning your head in the process as you couldn’t shake the feeling of humiliation.

“Should I use my baton?” Ran questions you. The memory of what the woman went through earlier crossed your mind, causing a shiver to slither up your spine before you parted your lips. Bringing his chopsticks to your lips once more, you opened your mouth wider to give better access before closing your lips around the utensil.

It had been a few weeks since you were taken in by Bonten as a pet. You lie still as you eye the ceiling, laying on your designated palette next to Mikey’s bed. Although you were able to adapt, you still couldn’t get used to their unpredictable and violent ways. At least you knew what you were getting when you were at the company before.

The contrast between some of their treatment and punishments were unsettling. Not to mention how demeaning it is to be treated as some animal when only just a few years back you lived a normal life. You look down and eye the fresh marks on your skin, remembering the baton making contact with your dermis as well as Sanzu using his katana. Kazutora usually spanks you and you’d think it wouldn’t be so bad, yet his hand uses so much force that it’s actually quite painful and makes it hard to sit for long periods of time.

Rin finds various ways to discipline you such as forcing you to kneel in rice, popping a joint or two out of place before popping it back, etc. You haven’t angered Mikey yet and fortunately the others leave you be so you don’t see them much at all.

“Y/n.” A voice took you out of your thoughts and caused you to eye the bed. “Come.”

Your eyebrows furrow at the demand. You’ve never been allowed in anyone’s bed up until this point so the command threw you in for a loop. Slowly sitting up, you picked yourself off of the floor and climbed on the bed, your own eyes meeting closed lids before you’re pulled into an embrace.

Your back meets Mikey’s chest as you both lay fetal position, him spooning you. You could only stare wide eyed across from where you lay when you felt a rumble, hearing a pur near your ear as his tail wraps around your thigh. Time passed before you both fell into a deep slumber, creating the unsaid habit as the cycle repeats.

A few months pass and a new human gets hired as one of the staff who are used to clean, cook, and complete the everyday tasks at hand. Because the majority of hybrids you were around, there were very few humans. Having been exhausted with your circumstances, you became a close friend to the new guy, creating a bond that you haven’t felt in a long time. Whenever the ‘masters’ would go on a mission, you’d be left on your lonesome until you would untie yourself from the post and leave your spot.

You would search for your friend, Eiichi until you found him and would help the male clean faster so you both could hang out as normal people, something neither of you had done in a long time. You began to spend so much time together that you would find yourself smiling at nothing whenever he was away, having to explain yourself as a result of your odd behavior, usually coming up with a lie.

You enjoyed each other’s company so much that you decided to brainstorm an escape plan together, ready to escape this world and live off grid. It was wishful thinking but the sooner you left this penthouse, the better. As you both leaned over the counter, caught the other’s eye as you stared for a moment. It had been a while since you had received genuine care from another human being. The gap in between both of you almost came to a close until you were yanked back by the collar of your shirt.

“So dirty.” The jaguar hissed before quickly stabbing Eiichi’s hand against the counter using a dagger. The human male yells out in pain as you’re grabbed by the neck and lifted from the floor. Rin’s eyes narrow as a smile appears on his face along with his ears flat against his head. His tail thrashes around violently.

“I just needed an excuse to go harder on you.” He says as you struggle to unwrap the fingers that are blocking your airway. Your feet dangle in the air as you hear another blood curdling shriek from Eiichi as Sanzu twists the weapon in the wound while glaring at the weaker man.

“Who said you can touch what belongs to Bonten, you fucking rat?” Sanzu growled before his claws protruded, pulling his arm back and slicing through Eiichi’s back.

Eiichi released a howl of agony as he leaned over the counter, his other fist connecting to the surface as his own nails dug into the palm of his trembling hand. Tears stream down his face as he looks up in your direction.

“L-let her go!” He grunts, his head hovering over his bloody hand. You struggle harder and you lose more air, your vision blurring out gradually as your body weakens.

“Since when did you call the shots?” Rin questions before he walks to where he’s standing across from Eiichi in a closer space. He released your neck, allowing you to drop. He snatches your waist before you could fully fall on the ground, coughing and chasing your breath. He eyes Eiichi before grabbing your chin harshly and forcing your lips to meet his. Your eyes widen as Rin’s other hand wraps around your bruised neck once more though to pull you into the kiss closer.

Once he was finished roughly kissing your lips, he moved the hand on your neck to the back of your head and wrapped the other arm around your waist, moving his head down your neck as you quietly pant while avoiding eye contact with the other men. You would’ve bit him if it wasn’t risking your life. His lips leave a tingling sensation to linger on each spot of your skin his mouth assaults. He stares Eiichi in the eyes the entire time, who could only stare back in agony and anger.

“See that?” Sanzu whispers near Eiichi’s ear. “See how she's taking it?”

When the human didn’t respond, Sanzu twisted the dagger once more before snatching it out, causing a drawn out grunt to leave Eiichi’s lips. You try to pull back but Rin’s hold was painfully tight.

“Answer me.” He hissed, his ears falling back as his tail mocked Rin’s thrashing. Eiichi nods violently, followed by a desperate, “Yes!”

“What’s going on here?” A voice came from the elevator, Ran walking in as well as Kazutora walking behind with their ears perked up. They had on amused expressions, staring at the display as they walked towards the busy executives.

“Tell em.” Rin demands looking into your eyes while your noses almost meet, pulling you back just enough to shift your gaze to the tiger and leopard.

“W-we were gonna kiss.” You say softly, nervous of the reactions considering how the first two executives responded. Kazutora sighs as Ran walks to the other side of you, opposite of his brother.

“Awe, kitty if you just wanted a kiss why didn’t you say so?” He cooed before leaning over and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“I thought you were a good girl, Y/n.” Kazutora frowns before crossing his arms and walking around the counter to where Eiichi is leaning over.

He uses one hand to grip the back of Eiichi’s collar before pulling his arm back and landing a bone crunching punch on his face, causing the poor human to fall over on the floor, blood splattering everywhere. You gasp as you yell his name before Ran wraps a hand half way under your chin and neck and forces you to look up, your head resting on his chest as he looks down at you.

“All you have to do is ask, Y/n. I don’t mind being the human touch you need.” He chuckled as Sanzu and Kazutora took turns beating and kicking Eiichi. A fist connects with his face as a foot connects with his stomach and so on. The floor is a bloody mess as well as the granite counter.

“Stop fucking hurting him!” You push against Rin’s chest as Ran releases your neck. Suddenly the room goes quiet as a new set of footsteps could be heard entering the room.

The lion eases into the room with a blank look on his face, pondering the display as he motions for everyone to follow. Everyone begins to move towards their boss, you turning around to try and check on Eiichi, only to see Kazutora use Sanzu’s dagger to puncture it through Eiichi’s back. You gasp as you try to break free of the Haitani brother’s hold.

“N-no!” You shriek as tears stream down your face, Rin picking you up in the process and throwing you over his shoulder to force you along.

You all walk onto a large bedroom, one that you haven't seen before. Before you could get a good look, you were tossed on the bed. Mikey took his seat on one of the accented sofas across from the bed. Everyone else stood at attention while waiting for instructions. You made poor attempts to prevent yourself from crying considering the only human friend you had just got murdered by your recklessness.

“Since you found her, do what you will.” Your eyes widen at Mikey’s statement. Before you could react, you felt arms wrap around your waist before you’re pulled in between someone’s legs from behind, sliding you against their chest.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment, Kitty.” Ran whispers before he places kisses against your ear. The rumbling in his chest is evident of a pur causing you to jolt and try to remove his arms, only to get distracted by a force on your chin. Sanzu lowers his face, meeting his lips with yours as he kisses you passionately. His head slightly moves along with his lips as you feel a hand sneaking under your shirt.

Kazutora’s hand slithers up your stomach, using his fingers to caress your healing scars before slowly making his way to one of your breasts, all the while gazing at your face. You feel a squeeze on your thigh by Rin before he slides up to meet your core, only for you to move your legs and close his hand in between your thighs. You yank your head back from Sanzu.

“N-no! Eiichi!” You hear a couple of huffs before Rin tears your legs apart, Kazutora locking one in place with his arm. The older Haitani slides his hand down your thigh before diving into your pants. Sanzu moves a hand to lift your shirt slightly and places his hand on your other breast. You feel a finger sliding against your clit through your panties. It felt so conflicting to be horrified for your own safety, as well as mourning a death all the while feeling a sense of pleasure from the culprits who caused your pain in the first place. You truly didn’t know how to respond besides failing miserably at struggling against their holds.

One of the hands on your breasts disappears just as Sanzu reaches in his pocket. Pulling out a small baggie with a pink pill, he pours it in the palm of his hand before bending over on the nightstand and crushing half of it. He placed one on his tongue before grabbing your chin once more.

“Open up.” He squeezes your cheeks harshly to force your jaw open. He sets the last piece on his tongue before leaning over and connecting the slightly dissolved pill with your own tongue. Tightening his grip, he pulled you forward.

“Swallow it.” He released his tight grasp once you complied. A few minutes pass as they continue their groping, your body feeling the same as before until you begin to feel heavy. You could feel yourself leaning more against Ran as your body falls back.

“There ya go, kitty. Just relax.” His raspy voice purrs along with his finger making slow yet firm circles around your nub. A wet substance slowly oozes out of your vagina as the stimulation causes you to moan quietly. You lean your head back against his chest as sweat beads around the lining of your forehead.

“E-Eiichi…” You whine out as the memories overcome your mind, the drug in your system causing you to feel as though you’re flying through your mind, reliving the moment as tears begin to stream down your face.

“Hey.” You hear a soft voice as a palm covers your cheek, gently forcing you to make eye contact with Kazutora.

“Focus on me.” He all but whispers before he leans in, latching his mouth to yours as his lips move against yours. Feeling drowsy and drawn in, you return the gesture, lost in a trance and only focusing on him. The softness felt really nice against your own lips, the drug intensifying the motion. His thumb caressed your cheek as a purr rumbled from his chest. His claw lightly grazing your skin caused a shiver throughout your body.

You were so focused on the moment with Kazutora that you hadn’t noticed how Rin pulled your pants off or how Sanzu ripped your shirt and even pulled your arms out of your sleeves. You hadn’t realized that you were bare chested and only covered up with a pair of lace panties Kokonoi bought. It wasn’t until you felt movement against your clit once more, as well as something wet against one of your nipples.

Ran switched to rolling your other nipple between his index and thumb causing a shock throughout your body as you felt the pressure build from Rin intricately using his thumb to rub along your clit through your panties, his other hand spreading your left fold to gain better access, and Sanzu flicking his tongue against your nipple while holding it firmly, closing his lips around to give little sensitive pecks as well as sucking the bud.

It was overwhelming. Focused solely on their touches, you hadn’t heard your own moaning. You felt pathetic, coming undone and vulnerability revealed to all these beasts who treat you as though you're below them. It’s embarrassing. Your high made it all the more worse as you began to get distracted with your thoughts causing a bittersweet feeling to take on considering all the hands on you. The movement on your clit halts as a weight on the bed disappears for a moment.

“I’m going to try something.” Rin says as he walks from the nightstand to the bed, your half lidded gaze eyeing the suction vibrator in his hand once Kazutora released your face. Rin sets the object down before removing your panties, getting into position.

“Kinky.” Ran smirked, licking behind the rim of your ear before Rin pulled your body down slightly.

“Alright, Bunny open wide!” Rin beams with a closed eyed mischievous smile.

Kazutora and Sanzu take it upon themselves to pull your legs open wider. Rin leans into position before he presses the button until it reaches a medium setting. Using his index and thumb, he spreads your labia before setting the circular end around your clit. Your body immediately tensed, your hips lifted as your head fell back. You bite your lip as your hands grip Ran’s thighs.

“Damn, that’s so hot.” Rin breathes out, watching more juice flowing out of your vagina.

Mikey felt a tightness in his pants as he sat manspread while leaned back. His hand slowly slides over his own thigh before he palms his bulge, tightening his grip just enough to add a painless pressure to ease his throbbing erection. The whole display of you sprawled out naked between his men while responding to the sensual acts in such a filthy manner is enticingly sweet to his mesmerized yet tired gaze.

Rin removes the vibrator to allow you a small moment of relief, your breathing hard as you pant, limbs trembling. You watch as he turns the setting higher, shaking your head.

“No, no, no! Wait!” He ignored you and set the buzzing end back around your swollen bud. The buzzing sensation connecting with your clit could only be explained as an electrifying stimulation. It’s so intense that your body freezes as your hips lift once more, your nails digging through the fabric covering Ran’s skin as you grunt. Just as you thought it couldn’t get any more intense, the tiger and jaguar hybrids leaned over and latched their tongues against your nipples.

The drug heightened your sensitivity so you could barely think properly, your hips beginning to grind against the toy causing your clit to rub against the inside of the puckered end harder considering Rin moves the vibrator with your motion, meeting the base of your clit with the end of the opening.

“So fucking filthy.” Sanzu hissed after releasing your nipple.

“My king, can I?” His attention shifts to Mikey, awaiting permission to proceed with his request.

“You and Rin.” Mikey states considering they were the two who found her having escaped the bedroom and almost kissing Eiichi.

Ran and Kazutora groan before they pull themselves away from you. Their cocks are throbbing tight against their pants and they’re ready to feel your warmth engulfing them. It’s frustrating but at least it’ll be their turn at some point tonight.

Your body drops back on the bed as Rin removes the vibrator, edging you before setting it on the nightstand. Sanzu repositions you to where he’s lying under you, positioning his cock to your wet entrance. Lifting his hips, he used his hands to guide your hips down, your pussy slowly engulfing his thick girth, both of you releasing a moan as the head reached the g-spot as your thighs hit the base of his erection. The drug felt like an aphrodisiac, making everything feel ten times more intense though you knew that wasn’t its purpose.

He guides you to buck your hips against him slowly so you could adjust to his size to make everything easier. He pressed a hand against your upper back, pulling you to press your breasts against his chest. His legs spread under you, making space for Rin to crouch above you from behind. He rubbed the lube between his fingers against his cock, having already prepared while you and Sanzu became adjusted. You felt a firm pressure entering you from behind, your eyebrows furrowing as you grunt in pain.

“N-no! Take it out! I-it hurts!” You cry out, tears streaming down your face as you angrily fist Sanzu’s chest.

“Shh. Shhh.” He grabbed the back of your hand and placed it against his neck.

“Squeeze when you feel pain.” Your fingers wrapped snugly around his throat. You hadn’t wanted to comply, but the pain was so uncomfortable that you tighten your grip around his neck with a scrunched nose.

“Fuck.” He moans as a red hue appears on his face, his lips apart as his eyes flutter shut. He bit his lip right before thrusting into you deeper. His blue orbs bore into you with a glimmer in his eyes, his claws piercing the skin on your thighs.

His hips lifting caused a contrast between pleasure and pain. Rin pushes deeper as the pain of your tightness eases for him. He groaned before leaning over more and balancing himself against the bed. His hips move back before they push forward, repeating the process as his cock rubbed against your anal walls, creating a stinging fullness that added to the girthy cock inside of your pussy, rubbing along your vaginal walls as well as firmly kissing your cervix.

Your mouth hung open as your eyes rolled into the back of your head, using your legs to help push against their thrusts. Curses, moans, and whimpers echoed throughout the room as well as the rocking of the bed. The men on the side had their own hand wrapped around their cock, leaking because of the display in front of them.

The smacking of skin increases as they speed upthe pace, forming harsher thrusts as they all bring themselves closer to the edge. You couldn’t focus on anything but feeling full and being surrounded by breathy sounds of pleasure. Your eyebrows furrowed as the pit in your stomach rises, biting your lip as you all rutt harder against each other.

“Shit.” Kazutora hissed as his hand reached the base of his cock before pulling his hand around the head and focusing on the stimulation at the tip of his erection.

Ran’s hair falls on his face from sweat, his head lowered with his mouth parted as he rubs his closed hand against his throbbing length. He repeats the motion at a steady pace before speeding the process. Mikey has one hand flat on the base of his cock while the other one grips his girth, rubbing up and down but in a circular motion at a slower pace.

Finally reaching your peak, you felt the rise fall as your body convulsed, orgasming hard as a loud moan left your mouth. The men follow not long after, their loads releasing as they press themselves deep inside you before riding out their orgasms, moaning near your ears as they breathe heavily.

The men on the sidelines shot ropes as their own bodies tensed, rubbing out their orgasms as they made a mess on their own pants. Curses could be heard throughout the room as they finished up, their cocks re - erecting not long after.

“Y/n.” Mikey says as he pants. “Come clean me up.”

The night continued on as you had orgasm after orgasm from the men taking their turns with your body. The night was heavenly for your fix in the moment, lapping up the attention and pleasure desperately. It wasn’t until your collar was hooked around your neck, followed with a cuff on your ankle that you realized the reality of your placement here. It reminded you of how much of a worthless animal you are to them.

Who knew that one night of passion could turn into multiple nights of you becoming some drugged up sex toy for their own pleasure. Their heats were the worst, becoming so rough with you as if they’re releasing their pent up rage. You couldn’t stop thinking of Eiichi. The way he made you feel normal again and the haunting memory of how he died. You found yourself more and more depressed and eager for a chance of true release.

A year passed and there was a night where you found out about a type of drug from one of the human staff members. It used to be a legal medication specifically made for cat hybrids to consume and become less aggressive and more docile. It also helped them fall asleep faster. Whenever you received the medication, you gave it to the human cook you became friends with who dropped a pill in each of their drinks during dinner before they made it back.

When they consumed the drug, it was quite entertaining. You sat on the couch in the living room instead of the floor while Mikey rubbed his face against your neck as he straddled you, nuzzling against your skin with his ears forward. Sanzu sat beside you sniffing the opposite side of your neck, ears straight up as he licks the skin. You feel Kazutora nuzzling against one of your legs with his arms wrapped around the limb. Ran is knocked out next to you, sleeping in a fetal position with his feet closest to you, tail lying over his own hip. Rin sits with his legs wrapped around your other leg while licking the skin on the back of his hand, grooming himself.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at their clinginess though when you realized your reality you began to think that there was nothing funny about this situation. You called one of their oblivious guards, who thought they just took a new drug they had provided themselves, to walk in to help you remove themselves so everyone can go to bed. When the hybrid snake tried to grab your arm, Mikey’s eyes sharpened before he hissed and used his claws to scratch the snake’s face. His tail rattled in response as he hissed in pain, his hands holding his bloody face as you eye the display in bewilderment.

This will definitely make it easier to escape.

Ran woke up from the commotion just as all of the cats bared their fangs ready to attack as their tails thrashed and ears flattened on their heads. Narrowing their eyes they all dash away from their spots, pouncing on the guard as he yells out in pain. You eye the display but don’t bother to help, waiting patiently as they finish though you look away from the disturbing scene and cover your ears. After they slaughter the man to death, they sleepily walk away, walking with you as you guide them to each of their bedrooms.

After all was done, they were knocked out cold from the drug. You gathered a random bag with necessities and threw the collar you had set on the nightstand in a trash can. You climbed out from the back of the first story’s window, beginning the journey to your new life.

The next day came crashing for the men, Sanzu being the first to know of your absence. Chaos reigned throughout the morning meeting as they took their rage out on irrelevant staff members and guards, wreaking havoc on those who let you slip from their radar. The other executives only stared at the display with blank looks as they watched, only thinking about their next move to find you for the sake of their boss’s and fellow executives’ sanity.

[call-me-maggie13]

Things my cat has cried about today

I did not allow him in the heating oven.

I refused to open the already open bathroom door.

I did not let him climb in the dishwasher I was trying to start.

He wasn’t allowed to go outside and play with the raccoons that are feral and literally 5 times the size of him.

I sneezed.

He couldn’t open the drawer in my dresser that doesn’t open.

He wanted to attack my can (that still had soda in it) and I moved it out of his reach.

I took a shower.

My brother laughed.

My other cat fell asleep on my lap and he decided that was his nap spot but he didn’t want to share it.

I kicked him out of the laundry room.

I took a nap.

I woke up from a nap.

I did not put Moana on for him to watch.

A bird chirped outside my window.

He wasn’t allowed to stick his head in a burning candle.

He walked out of a room with people and didn’t like that no one was in the room with him. After he walked away. On his own volition.

His name is Frank, it is short for Frankenstein and he is very, very, extremely stupid.

Update because I keep getting asked! Frank is not an orange cat, he is a Siamese mix that I pulled out of a dumpster at eight weeks old! Here are some pictures!

[sharksmirk]

G1 Optimus shows up in TFP and chaos ensues. As do puns. I've never drawn tfp Megs before I know he sucks OK!?

And yes, G1 Optimus is canonically the same size as TFP Bumblebee 😂

Thank you @brobotsbro for this amazing meta that I can't link to directly bc Tumblr is 3 dumpster fires in a trenchcoat: brobotsbro(.)tumblr(.)com/post/644657249650982912/op-hey-miko-take-a-picture-i-want-to-send-it-to

[phoenixcatch7]

In love with the idea of captain marvel being Billy's imaginary friend. Like, it'd be so easy. Early depictions had them as almost fully separate people sometimes, like one soul with two minds, rather than just two filters like we mostly see now.

But imagine a Billy down on his luck, hurt and hiding from police and criminals alike, daydreaming the hours away as children do, taking inspiration from all the superheroes rising to fame, making little stories to play out his dreams of saving the world with a generic action doll he found while dumpster diving once. Most of the paint's rubbed off.

Red's his favourite colour, his comfiest jumper is a bright ruby even after all the grime and washes. Gold, too, it's shiny and warmer than silver! A hero cape is a must, big and eye catching! And he can fly, of course, like superman, and in his daydreams, when he's sore and frustrated after a long day's grind, his superhero is smart enough and knows all the right words to get the bullies to stop without resorting to fighting.

His superhero fantasy is one he spends a lot of time on, the first one he goes for when struggling to sleep at night, and he can picture it so clearly. Captain marvel is big and bright and kind, strong enough to lift the boxes for the old lady up the road who's moving all by himself, fast enough to catch Jamie who fell out of the tree on Saturday and broke his leg and couldn't come to class for weeks. He appears at the entrance to alleys when Billy is cornered, he steps up behind to cover for him when he gets caught shoplifting, he sits at the bus stop with him when it's pouring rain and the right bus doesn't seem to be coming.

And then the wizard comes, or rather whisks him away, and like a magician from a fairytale breathes life into his imaginary friend until Billy feels thrice his size and a million times more invincible.

From then on, captain marvel is a real hero, just like Billy is a real boy, and as one they save the whole city, and then the whole world, and get cats down from trees and help Mrs Victoria move the last of her boxes and she gives them a pinch in the cheek and cookies for the road and sometimes it hurts but it's so much better than he imagined.

[hederasgarden]

Ryan Gosling Character Masterlist

The Grey Man

Oneshots

Safe With Me (Sierra Six x F!Reader | Mature | 2.7K)

Six is a hard man to read up until the moment he isn’t.

Daylight (Sierra Six x F!Reader | Explicit | 1K)

You spend an early morning in bed with Six after he returns from a mission.

Drabbles

The Signal (Sierra Six x F!Reader | Gen | 706) You take pity on Six after watching him suffer through a number of terrible dates.

Operation Elevator (Sierra Six x F!Reader | Gen | 780)

Claire plays matchmaker when she realizes Six need a little help wooing their new neighbor.

Tender Loving Care (Sierra Six x F!Reader | Explicit | 900)

You help Six relax after a hard mission.

Dom AU (Sierra Six x F!Reader | Mature | 500)

You reach out the famous Dom Sierra Six to explore your submissive side and work on your anxiety and confidence issues. 

Just Pretend (Sierra Six x F!Reader | Mature | 780)

For a moment, Six thinks about how his life could be different. 

Headcanons

Wall sex with the gloves HC 

Sierra Six + Kinks

Sierra Six + Kinks Part 2

Sierra Six Housewife Kink

Sierra Six with a breeding kink

What kind of job would Six get after he retires?

Overstimulation Kink

Eating you out and body worship with Six

Six taking care of a partner with depression/anxiety

Crazy Stupid Love

Top Shelf (Jacob Palmer x Plus Size!F!Reader | Gen | 1.3K)

When your tinder date turns out to be a dumpster fire of a person, your evening is rescued by a handsome stranger.

Drive

Need (Driver x F!Reader | Explicit | 600)

He’s quiet, even when he’s fucking you.

Blade Runner 2049

Interlinked (Officer K x F!Reader | Mature | 5.8 K)

Stepping in to help K is instinct, but what comes after is a choice, one that’s easy to make.

The Fall Guy

First Kiss (Colt Seavers x F!Reader | Mature | 400)

Your first kiss with Colt is different than you imagined.

A picture is worth a thousand words Colt Seavers x F!Reader | Gen | 367)

Prompt - Bodyguard AU + "YOU SENT ME PICTURES OF YOU NAKED WHILE I WAS IN A WORK MEETING!"

♡Main Masterlist♡

[fatkish]

Hi hun!

If you’re still doing requests could I ask for a Dabi x reader fluff hcs?

Like she’s got adhd and autism and is kinda goth (this is self indulgent lol). By kinda goth I mean she loves the music, culture and has some eery home decor like fossils and skulls etc but doesn’t necessarily look the part (most of the time).

If you have any questions please lmk!!

Thank youuu xx

Dabi x ADHD and Autistic Goth reader

Reader runs a small cafe and bakery. The reader creates bento boxes that you can buy for relatively cheap but taste really good and are made with nutritional ingredients. Some heroes, office workers, first responders and other people who don’t really have the time to make food or stop for lunch often order ahead and pick up food to go.

Reader lives in an apartment above their cafe and has a few employees who are either college students, high schoolers, people with disabilities or any other person who has a relatively small work window and needs money. Their employees are all highly respectful of them.

The cafe is open from 5:00 am to 9:00 pm. The reader spend most of the hours doing the cooking and making bentos, budgeting, paying bills and other tasks that are done behind the scenes. The reader has a quirk that allows them to heal people via food (kinda like the mom from Encanto)

The cafe has a very quiet and calm atmosphere and is very popular among the anti-social groups and those who have sensitivities to crowds and stuff. The decor is very soft-core/comfort and homey styled

The booths have partitions that can completely close with tatami mats and pillows, there are steps leading into the booth area where you remove your shoes and put slippers on. The tables with chairs are in the front of the cafe and the floors are mostly hard wood.

Those who work full time are often quirkless employees who need a stable job and a kind and understanding workplace environment

You met Dabi one night when an employee found him collapsed outback by the dumpsters during closing. When they told you about him, you had them help you move him to your upstairs apartment where you treated what you could of his burns and began preparing food for him

When Dabi woke up to a dark gothic room with Victorian antique furniture that looked like a vampire owned it, he had no idea what he was in for. Expecting some grungy punk ass emo person, he nearly got mental whiplash when you walked in, wearing some cute soft clothes with a smile on your face holding a plate of cutesy food

I picture the reader having a personality kinda like Mitsuri from Demon Slayer. Your cheerful and loving albeit kinda ditzy personality was not what Dabi expected.

“Oh goodie, you’re awake, I was so super worried about you when my employees found you. You looked so hurt and sad, my heart nearly broke just thinking about how much pain you must be in. Oh, here, I made you plenty of food so eat up! I already changed your bandages earlier so just rest, call me if you need anything, I’ll be just around the corner in the living room<3”

You left before Dabi could even get a word in. He looked down at the plates on the tray in his lap that you placed. Seeing all the cute food and your personality made him think you’re either a roommate or you’re some psycho killer with a split personality. But he was hungry so he ate the food.

While he ate, Dabi noticed his burns healing and even his scars disappearing slowly but surely until it stopped. When you came back to check on him and clean up his dishes, he asked about it. You told him your quirk lets you heal people by having them ingest the food make.

After collecting his dishes you asked if there was or is anything he doesn’t like or is allergic to. He told you he hates fish and that he prefers his food cold. You gave him a soft towel for him to shower with and told him where the bathroom was. After that you asked for his clothing size and went shopping for clothes for him

After bringing the clothes for him to his room you left them there. After he took a shower he saw the clothes but didn’t see his clothes/villain getup anywhere. He left the room and entered the living room and asked where his clothes were

You where watching Molang on Netflix and eating tangulu (I hope I spelled that right, it’s cut up fruit on a stick that coated in a layer of melted sugar giving it a hard candy like coating)

You turn to him and after being asked you tell him that you’re washing his clothes and then you’re going to repair them. You offer him some tangulu to which he surprisingly accepts and sits down and you both decide to watch a creature feature movie. You both enjoy seeing the asshole people get eaten by monsters

“Yeah! Get munched, asshole! Oh, sorry, I kinda tend to get caught up in the moment when watch these movies”

“It’s fine doll face”

Dabi chuckles quietly seeing you get so excited about things. He notices how you’re easily distracted but is still wondering why you haven’t said anything about him or why you aren’t seemingly afraid of him, so he asks

“Alright, be real with me for a minute, why the hell ain’t ‘cha afraid ‘a me huh? I mean, I’m covered in nasty burns and yet yer here makin’ me food, takin’ care ‘a me and shit, so what’s up?”

“Hm? Oh, well, just because you look different doesn’t mean anything, everyone hits rough patches somewhere or at some point in their life. I think it’s horrible to kick someone while they’re already having a rough time. You’ve clearly been having a rough time so it’s only right for me to help you out, that’s what people are supposed to do. People should be kind to others no matter what, I might not know you, but everyone deserves to be treated with kindness.”

“Ya’ know, that kinda thinkin’ is probably gonna get ‘cha killed sweetheart. How do you know I’m not gonna kill ya’ ‘er somethin’? I could hurt ‘cha and yer just sittin’ here?”

“I don’t think you’re going to hurt me. I think you’re a good person who’s just going through a rough patch. I’m not gonna ask what you’re going through but just know that my door is always open for you.”

You smile at him and he just sits there dumbfounded. He gives up and eventually you guys go to bed.

Over the next few days you continue to make him food and wait for it to cool down before serving him. He eventually tells you his name is Dabi. You guys get along rather well

When he leaves you tell him to make sure to come back and you even hand him a wrapped up bento. He waves you off and leaves through the back but takes the bento with him

When he meets back up with the league at their hideout he opens the bento to see a bunch of cutesy things. Toga and Twice both notice it and bring it to the attention of the others

Twice is jealous that Dabi has someone who makes him food. Toga wants to meet you and (stab) befriend you. Compress is delighted by the creativity and how well plated the food is. Kurogiri wants to exchange recipes and learn a thing or two from you. Spinner couldn’t care less and Tomura is just frustrated but makes fun of Dabi

Dabi will never admit it, but he loves that you take care of him and he makes sure that you’re safe and that other villains and heroes don’t bother you

(I hope you enjoyed this. The pictures aren’t mine I found them on Pinterest)

[bi-bats]

@generatorcat​ of COURSE!! your wish is my command 💕

-

“We’re three minutes out,” Tim said over the comm, and the moment he finished talking, he burst out of the alley Jason had been eyeing, six feet in front of Jason’s bike. 

Damn Tim and that lean little figure. Jason would never have been able to maneuver his bike through that shortcut so fast, would've been too busy trying not to scrape his shoulders against the bricks or smack his knee into a dumpster.

But what he lacked in the lean-figure department, he made up for in sheer audacity. He sped up, maneuvering his bike just recklessly enough for Dick to scold him over the comm. 

Not that he could hear it over the sound of his own bike pulling back in front of Tim’s.

“Make it two minutes,” Jason smirked. 

“One if we grapple once we see the bridge,” Tim shot back.

“Could you two move the foreplay to a private line?” Steph snapped. 

“Everyone stays on the main line. Boys, cut it out.” Bruce said over the comm, just loud enough to be heard over the noise of him throwing down a smoke bomb.

“Sure thing,” Jason scoffed. 

“You got it, B,” Tim agreed easily.

Then Tim reached up to his comm and switched to a private line. By the time his hand was curling back around the handle of his bike, Jason was talking in his ear. 

“I’m serious, Red. Don’t get fucking hurt again,” Jason grimaced, thankful that the helmet hid the concerned look he was throwing Tim. 

“You worried about me?” Tim asked, smirking a little wider. 

“Worried about our contest,” Jason defended. “If you get hurt twice in a row, they’re gonna put an end to it.” 

“They couldn’t if they tried, but fine. The night is voided if either of us gets injured.” Tim pulled his bike back in line with Jason’s, but let him keep the lead, just for the moment. “Can’t have you getting shot either.” 

“Oh, so now you’re admitting you were shot?” 

“No, I’m admitting that you’re more likely to get shot than grazed.”

“Sorry, short stack," Jason teased, and Tim could picture the wide, smug grin his helmet was hiding. "It’s nice being tall and broad. Must be even more noticeable from all the way down there.” 

“I was calling you reckless, actually, not commenting on your figure,” Tim said, hoping Jason wouldn’t look over and notice the faint blush on his cheeks. “But if you want to bring that into it, my size has its advantages.”

[stormxpadme]

Character Ask Game:

Scott Summers: 3, 5, 13, 23

Logan: 1, 5, 12, 14

Remy Lebeau: 6, 9, 15, 21

CHARACTER ASK GAME!!!

Scott Summers

3 - Least favorite canon thing about this character?

When we talk about the movies, it's everything about the new movies LOL. Starting from taking one of the most important aspects aka being the older protective brother from him. But since I don't work with that particular multiverse timeline and ignore it even exists, I'll turn to comics for a moment, I guess. Boi really needs to learn how to talk about his emotions more instead of relying on the telepaths in his life to read him and sort shit out for him on a personal level. Seriously. Dude. You don't got your tongue only for making your lovers scream in bed.

5 - What’s the first song that comes to mind when you think about them?

People knowing my fanfiction verse know that I gave Scott a rather unpopular hobby with classic dancing (thanks Hellfire Gala 2022 for enabling me in that by him rocking that tango), so there's lots of songs I remember him and the wifey dancing to that are dear to my heart. He's also a bit of a movie nerd, can't change my mind, and I made it canon in my verse that he often watches Breakfast Club with the kids in movie hours at school because yeah, at least in old movieverse timeline, he IS that much of a dinosaur and the movie is great for emotional growth especially for you teenagers. So somehow I always end up with Don't you forget about me for him in my head, not least because I named the oneshot in question after one of the lyrics.

13 - What’s an emoji, an emoticon and/or any symbol that reminds you of this character or you think the character would use a lot?

✔️

Look, boi just loves his organization lists and to pester everyone with them even worse since the invention of smartphones.

23 - Favorite picture of this character?

Pfft, that's evil to choose from in a franchise that has so many verses :D.

With comics, there's far too many so I took the latest. For reasons. Yeah, yeah, I know, it's same face syndrom, might just as well be looking at Remy here if you shun the VISOR. But like. Any Scott comic look looking similar to James is fine with me. Also, yes, much as I hate this movie, I have a motorcycle fetish, thanks for asking.

Logan

1 - Why do you like or dislike this character?

It's really the whole "wearing my scars on the inside" thing. I love the whole idea of someone physically indestructible coming with the according mental damage of decades and someday millenia, probably. It's basically a short-sized Tolkien elf aesthetic, think more of Silmarillion elves though who were far more feral and less regal LOL.

5 - What’s the first song that comes to mind when you think about them?

Going back to my verse again where Logan's big on the classics not least because they often trigger memories of the life he's forgotten. Ring of Fire means a lot to Jean and him in that verse, which is not least why I named a oneshot series about them after it.

12 - What’s a headcanon you have for this character?

Much like Scott, Logan's actually not bad a dancer and not half-bad a singer. He doesn't love both but get him drunk enough he'll hum away and if the occasion calls for it, he'll be on the floor. Grudgingly.

14 - Assign a fashion aesthetic to this character.

Dumpster cowboy Logan never gets old.

Remy LeBeau

6 - What’s something you have in common with this character?

We both have an accent that people often won't understand LOL.

9 - Could you be roommates with this character?

I mean, depends on how aro-poly things get *cough*. Otherwise, we'll both need really good noise cancelling phones because there'll be lots of kinky shit going on in both rooms and a gal needs to sleep every once in a while.

15 - What’s your favorite ship for this character? (Doesn’t matter if it’s canon or not.)

I'm a Romy truther but in oneshots, you can sell me pretty much. Much like Scott, Remy's a fandom bycicle for me. Even wrote him with Scott in a oneshot once or twice because they're just fucking hot together.

21 - If you’re a fic writer and have written for this character, what’s your favorite thing to do when you’re writing for this character? What’s something you don’t like?

I talked about it before and just can repeat, I really am committed to my "former voluntary and enthusiastic sexworker Remy" headcanon. I like working on that part when I get the chance, including all the highs and lows that come with the job, the changing attitude towards sex and physical nearness especially with regard to Marie etc.

Don't ever ask me to write a cajun accent though. I simply let it be because there's enough hacks at Marvel headquarters already who butcher languages they can't be assed to hire someone for who actually speaks them. I don't want to look similarly stupid. Like, it's mentioned that he speaks cajun and the accent in my stories several times but I don't write it out in dialogue because I simply suck at it. But if someone who actually speaks cajun ever is in the mood to redo all my Remy dialogue, you're welcome.

[fictionalafvsmybeloved]

So your blog is the land of non-credibility right? And you review tanks? So could you review this 'gem'

I haven't done one of these in a while, so why not start off with this Wonderful design by Blacktaildefense.

(also I'm gonna change up my standard format a bit)

I'll let you know right here, this thing is more of a dumpster fire than you think.

Let's start with the basics, size. It's too big. 4 feet wider and 10 feet longer the M1 Abrams. It's longer and wider than the Maus and Char 2C, the two tanks known for being ridiculously big. It's too wide for standard US highways and railroads so the only way you can transport it is by air or sea. And its "amphibious", with almost no way to propel itself through the water.

Next is the engine. It gives the tank a mindboggleing 55 horsepower per ton, leading to a ludicrous 65 MPH top speed at an equally insane 1 mile to the gallon. BUT THAT IS A LIE. Because this uses a wankel engine, AND WANKEL ENGINES HAVE LAUGHABLY BAD EFFICIENCY. But that's not all! This is a diesel wankel engine, and you see a diesel engine works by compressing the air with its pistons until its super heated, then injecting the fuel into the chamber, causing it to combust. A WANKEL ENGINE CANNOT DO THAT, SO THE ENGINE DOESN'T EVEN WORK. And I just noticed that the drive sprocket is either missing, or half the size it should be.

20% Chobham

20% Titanium

60% Fullerene (misspelled, of course)

This is the absolute nonsense that supposedly makes up this thing's armor package. Chobham.... is not a material, it is a LAYOUT for composite armor (and an outdated one too). Titanium is very expensive, and also what the Air Force makes their planes out of. So now you're competing with the Air Force for materials, good job. Fullerene, oh boy every 2-bit sci-fi writer's favorite nanomaterial. Nanomaterials have two big problems. First, they are extremely expensive to manufacture, even on the "nano' scale. Second, the physical properties of matter change as they are scaled up. YOU HAVE NO GUARANTEE THAT THE IN-LAB NANO-SCALE SUPERPROPERTIES WILL TRANSLATE INTO 20 TONS OF USABLE TANK ARMOR. As for the thickness, it's listed in just plain inches, with no way to tell if it's talking about RHA equivalence or the actual thickness of the armor elements in that area(nor does it differentiate between hull and turret armor). If its RHA equivalent, then the armor is weaker than the Abrams. The armor at the rear is ten times thicker that it needs to be, and is just increasing cost and maintenance complexity for almost no benefit.

As for the guns, why don't we start small. Two 7mm MGs, I'm sure he means 7.62 NATO, right? Those two machineguns have twice the ammunition they need. A 20mm autocannon for firing at aircraft (not pictured but still listed). The original design plan for the M1 Abrams had one too, but the Army removed it for being "superfluous", that should tell you all you need to know. The primary armament is a 145mm smoothbore... howitzer? Howitzers are lower velocity guns designed for indirect fire, what the hell is one doing on an MBT? And it comes with- SWEET MOTHER OF GOD! WHY DOES IT HAVE 85 ROUNDS OF MAIN GUN AMMUNITION? With no blowout panels?!? If this thing takes a hit the entire vehicle will scatter itself over a 200ft area! And here I though Russian tanks where explosive. And why does it have 40 degrees of gun elevation? Is it meant to pull double duty as an artillery piece? You're just making the crew training times longer.

This overgrown, overbudget do-it-all abomination has sci-fi super armor, a magic nonsense engine, and the ability TO SWIM; but no thermal sights. Absolutely moronic.

They packed the crew in there like sardines. Six crew members, SIX. Does it have THREE loaders? Is one of them pulling double duty as an old fashioned radio operator? Do they need that many because they're using single-piece brass cased ammo? Are they using stackable charges to pull double duty as an SPG!? Do not tell me, I don't wanna know.

The final two features of note are: The "full 3d stabilization" of the drivetrain, hull, turret, and gun. I have no idea how or why you would stabilize those first three. And the smoke mortar. Mortar, not launchers. smoke mortar, like one late WWII German tanks.

FINAL SCORES

Credibility: 2/10 - Just Stupid

Coolness: 3/10 - WarThunder Sad Eyes Tank

BONUS

War Thunder for the PS1

The Areo-Gavin is up next, and I think it might drive me to alcoholism. See you soon(ish).

[swoopingsilver]

Say it with me kids

Cat👏color👏is👏not👏a👏breed!!

The cat you rescued off the side of the road is NOT a Siamese, Bengal, Persian, or whatever you’re going to come up with!!!

Those are cats that are THOUSANDS of dollars, the owners are not letting them wander the streets! And they sure aren’t being born in your back yard by some random stray!

Cat color is just that-color. Cat size, shape, tail, whatever is not how you figure out the breed. Most cats, we’re talking like 90-95%, are NOT PEDIGREE CATS.

I’m sure you’re asking “But Silver, why does this matter? No one is being hurt by me calling my silver mackerel tabby an Australian Mist.”

Ignoring the fact that it makes you look stupid (“oh yeah sure I have a rare exotic cat breed worth more money than my rent. No Im not paying vet bills this cat was free in the parking lot” sure Jan, that’s definitely a pedigreed cat there.)

Breeds tend to have a propensity to certain issues due to their inherent inbreeding and unique characteristics. Take for example, the Manx cat. You know, the cute little tailless ones? They’re prone to spine issues due to that tail. Your cat doesn’t “become a Manx” because it had a tail amputation. That’s not how the breed is determined.

Also, when you call your cat a “Maine Coon mix” at the vet, and then we open your carrier (which you should always bring your cat in a carrier to the vet btw but that’s a rant for another day) and it’s a massively overweight long hair…yeah, that’s not okay. It’s not “he’s big because he’s a Maine coon” it’s “your cat is obese and this should constitute as animal abuse”.

“But Silver, what do I call my dumpster/rescue/cat distribution system cat?”

Easy!

If your cat has short hair, it’s a domestic short hair (dsh for short)

If your cat has medium length hair, it’s a domestic medium hair (dmh for short) (this one is sometimes controversial, because it’s quite subjective)

And if your cat has long hair, it’s a domestic long hair (dlh for short) (medium hairs will be put in this category if for whatever reason you don’t want to use medium hair as a category)

Statistically, you have a domestic short hair. Unless you have a pedigree, your cat is a mix. You can call it a Moggie, if you want to feel fancy.

“But what about his/her color?”

Cats can be colorpoint without being a Siamese. Cats can be blue without being a Russian Blue. Cats can be black without being a Bombay. Half the time y’all can’t say a single feature of the cat breed besides coat color.

Tl;dr: Your warrior cat OC is not a purebred unless he/she was a kittypet with a pedigree. The cat you found in the university parking lot is not a purebred. Stop it you’re making yourself look like a fool.

Edit: forgot the long haired pictures whoops

[legendary-sky-sketch-artisan]

Great I got your attention with

◇"Relatable Meme"◇

I miss shitty electronics, like ironically shitty.

I found a SD card camera the size of a box of tick tacks and they take pictures the same quality as a Nintendo DS any image either looks like a mosaic painting or deep fried golden brown not to crispy but just right for 20 bucks.

Or a library computer I found in a dumpster that I manage to scrounge together and fix and wipe clean I gave it 50+ stickes and give it a homie nerd feel. (Don't question me or why I can probably find me in local dumpsters with a 20% spawn chance) it now give it the task of running my pokemon roms and holding onto files of my favorite art and fanfics.

Give your ironically shitty electronics a second chance. They miss you

[dumbsoftheart]

erysichthon’s punishment, 2

pairing: eater!peter parker x f!eater!reader

tags: dead dove, do not eat: themes of cannibalism, violence, 18+ only, eventual smut, angstttt, blonde peter parker, drug use, mentions of panic attacks, swearing, manipulation, lots of mentions of blood, so much yearning its painful

summary: “i want you to eat me, angel, bones and all” two young cannibals meet in the midwest, fall in love, find struggles along the way.

notes: oh these two losers are hopeless!

word count: 4.8k

౨ׅৎ

peter had no intention of adding a member to his solo-party when he woke up that morning. solitude suited him; it was a choice he made and told himself that it made his life easier, bearable. he’d given up on trying to establish himself within society when he was 13. his aunt and uncle were oblivious to his condition- he learned quickly when he was 5 that something was deeply wrong with him after a particularly bad fight on his school’s playground. he didn't like to ruminate on the memories. it brought back that painstaking feeling he felt when he was 15, watching his uncle ben console his aunt may in a mess of tears and distress. he figured it was best to leave, before he hurt someone. he couldn’t live with himself if he hurt them.

he left his home with little to nothing: a few clothes, his dads glasses, a token from his mother, a picture of his aunt and uncle- and taken the first train out of new york, whatever was cheapest. he can't recall what state he had ended up in, too busy fighting tears as he beat himself up for the curse of depravation that knawed at him constantly. he was tantalus, ostracised into an eternity of thirst and hunger because of the selfishness than ran deep in his psyche. he’d pick fights with men twice his size often, at that age, knowing he’d lose. it was a tumultuous mix of self-inflicted punishment, desperate need for penance for causing pain to those he loved, for abandoning without a trace; for indulging, for the first time in his life, in his most shameful desires. 

his first time, he was in georgia. it was his birthday. he’d managed to make some pocket money working for an old couple and their granddaughter tending to household chores and yardwork. it was so much different than his life back home, the quiet midwestern landscape made him long for the neverending hustle and bustle he had grown familiar to. the couple reminded him of his uncle ben and aunt may, and while he found it painful, he liked to imagine that they were his aunt and uncle, living a happy life and raising a happy, normal child. he’d never get too close to them, only watch them from afar as he completed his work, and he’d fantasise that it was him they were eating lunch and playing games with. they never seemed to question where he had come from, or how he always found time for work, never in school- and a deep part of him wanted them to care. to pick and prod for answers he didn’t want to give, so he could bask in the nagging and questioning as if it were his beloved guardians pestering him out of love. he wanted to feel like a boy again.

peter hadn’t been a boy anymore for a while, his escape forced him to mature faster than he probably should have. he’d forced himself into the idea that he was now a man, and there was no escaping in; no indulging in childlike pleasures or wonder. he was now in the real world, alone, and he found no time for it. things that made him feel callow and juvenile peeved him, and he avoided it at all costs. he didnt have a home, unlike what he told his employers. he lived near a dumpster, with a makeshift home founded with tattered old clothes he’d stolen off of clotheslines, hidden craftily from sight for when it got dark enough. sometimes, on the weekends, when drunks and addicts would find their way down the alley he’d nested in, he’d cry silently, praying to whatever god there was that they’d leave quickly, and he’d remain hidden. that evening, he walked home with an abnormally hefty bonus, an undeserving birthday gift he’d been given before leaving his work- when he was pulled aside by a scarily thin and sunken girl. she was older than him, no doubt, about 19, and she made an excited effort to pull him aside with the promise of a surprise he couldn't miss, whisking him away before he could answer. when she’d brought him down an unfamiliar alleyway, he fought the urge to throw up. 

it was dark, save for the old and dim flashlight the girl carried with her. it smelled of rotten meat and sewage. hidden under a pile of old blankets and quilts, she uncovered the body of a man, couldn't have been older than 35. pieces of his abdomen, shoulders, neck, and legs were amiss, hacked away carelessly by a dull knife. what had really disturbed peter was that the man was still alive; breathing shakily, pale and sweaty. his once clean and well fitted suit had been shredded in various areas, carelessly torn at and blood stained. he couldn't speak, no doubt from the pain he was in. some of his wounds seemed much older than the others. 

“he’s about to die. normally we’d eat as much of them as we can when they’re fresh, but i’m livin’ on what i've got left. he wasn't a good person, if it makes you feel better.”

peter was sick. he’d tried to run away, but she stopped him. what shook him the most was how eerily kind the girl was, as if she was earnestly trying to help him. you need to feed, is what she had told him as she cut away at his chest, handing him a bloodied chunk of dirty flesh and muscle. he couldn't find it in him to do it, staring at the pleading man as life drained from his eyes. he couldn’t do it, no matter how delicious he smelled, the man's sweet red ambrosia dripping down his fingertips. it was like it was taunting him, the way it slipped through his fingers and onto the hard pavement. eventually, the girl guided the piece of meat into peter's mouth, urging him to ignore his internal protests and just chew. 

now, he was about the same age as the girl- charlotte, her name was. he couldn’t forget her. he blamed her for the person he’d become: a guiltless, ravenous, murderous monster. he’d only actually killed a few people with his own hands a scattered amount of times; out of desperation and famine, yet he remained unyielding at the prospect that he was cold-blooded murderer. he hated her, almost as much as he hated himself. she was the serpent, and he was eve; leading him towards temptation. the irony wasn’t lost on him, that now he was the serpent, and the girl next to him in his stolen green ford was now his eve. he’d regretted the words as soon as he said it. i can help you. it left his mouth before he could think, too busy thinking of a way to get her to stay by his side a little longer. she was beautiful, no doubt, but she possessed a certain innocence that peter felt he needed in his life. he convinced himself that in doing this he wouldn't be robbing her of that innocence, but instead he could learn from it. he wanted to get drunk off it, its rarity was intoxicating to him. if she was his last drink of water, he’d savour it; worship it, do everything in his power to keep it as pure and fresh for as long as he can. help, he had said. how, in the already cruel and messed up world they lived in, could he justify this as help? it upset him how his notion of helping her was ultimately exposing her to the same state of self-loathing and hatred that he harboured. 

angel, he called her. she was still adamant on not giving him her real name, and he decided he didn't care. it was easier that way. easier for him to mould her into what he craved. he could pick apart everything he eventually learned about her, and paste it onto the girl he wanted her to be- what he wished he could have with her. he looked at her, her hair whipping in the wind as she rested her chin on the window, her knees tucked into her chest. he could just barely hear her humming foreign melodies under her breath, and in the rear-view mirror he watched her eyes childishly dart back and forth across the empty landscape they sped through. he yearned to connect with her. he wanted to bridge the gap between them, to engage in honest conversation without the weight of what he was about to do crushing him. he almost wanted to turn the car around and drop her off at the nearest train station, apologise for the inconvenience, and bid goodbye. the voice in his head nagged at him to let the dove free, and just hold onto the memory of it. 

she spoke first, “i don't want to hurt anybody.”  it pained him. he cursed at himself for feeling attached to her, or giving a shit about her feelings. what was it to him? he didn't know her- hell, he couldn't even get her to give him her name. he scoffed at himself, and she turned to look at him with quizzical eyes, her lips pressed together as if deciding whether or not the action was laced with malice. he kept his eyes on the road, unable to look at her. “famous last words.” 

she let out a humourless laugh, turning back to the world outside her window. he wanted to apologise. for what, he wasn't sure of yet. for changing her life forever, maybe. or maybe for acting so cold despite his previous kindness. truth was, he felt shy now. he was always quick with witty remarks and jokes, but he found he failed at reaching out to people, a consequence of his solitude. he opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it. his mental turmoil was clearly getting to him, as he considered just taking her someplace else, saving his ‘lessons’ for another night. 

“i won't force you to do anything you don't want to,” he finally spoke. she hummed in response, turning to kick up heer feet on the dashboard, elbow resting on the console and nestling her head onto her palm. they seemed to have been driving a while, and she wondered where he was taking her. she was nervous, to put it lightly. she had a vague idea of what he meant when he said he’d help her, but she didn't want to think about it much. she tried to put her mind on autopilot, instead focusing on the vast expanse of land before her. she counted cows, sheep, stray dogs, and made up songs in her head. the one thing she couldn't shake off her mind, however, was his smell. she understood now what he meant when he said he could smell her. it was a warm, musky scent. different from anything she’d ever smelt before. she silently basked in it, relishing its comfort. one of her own. someone who understood her. it was rare, and she welcomed the feeling. she kept her eyes on the road now, mimicking him. in the corner of her eye, she saw his slender fingers drum on the steering wheel anxiously, making a turn into the driveway of a small, white house. the porch was old and rotting away, stray pieces of plywood laziness hammered on to hide the mess suggested it was falling apart- but it seemed homely, if not abandoned. he turned the car off and stepped out.

“stay here,” he ordered. not rough, more like a gentle warning. she watched him saunter off towards the front door, flinching at how loudly he’d knocked. a tall, scruff man greeted him, and he didn't seem very happy to see the lanky boy at his doorstep. he began to yell, grabbing peter by the collar of his shirt and shaking him violently. she felt herself shrink into her carseat, fear enveloping her senses. she worried that by accepting peters offer she’d somehow put him in some kind of danger, and she didn’t want to find out what would happen had the man discovered she was with him. she couldn't make out exactly what they were saying, but she caught a glimpse of that same mischievous smile from earlier as peter slipped his way into the house. 

too much time passed, and she grew worried. she also noted how much quieter the house seemed, and she began to panic, the reality of what was happening finally dawning on her. she hurriedly climbed out of the truck, scrambling her way to the door. with balled fists at her sides, she called peters name. no response. then, shouting- and then a pained scream from the man from before, followed by a loud tumble and a harsh crack against the hardwood floor. she twisted the doorknob before she could think about it, and as she swung the door open she bit back a scream. 

peter was standing at the top of the stairs, fists clenched and spattered with blood. he looked as if he’d taken a few nasty hits to his face, his cheek oozing slightly with a bruised gnash that met his jawline.

“what did you do?” her eyes were wide with horror, shaking as she shut the door behind her and kneeled beside the man on the floor. there was blood, so much blood, pooling from behind his head and bubbling out of his mouth with choked gasps. she looked up at peter who was now crouched beside her, eyes dark and unreadable. he chewed on the inside of his cheek before standing up, keeping his gaze on the man on the floor.

“owed me money. bastard was too drunk or high to make it down the stairs properly.”

was that what he was going with? she felt rage bubble up inside of her, but she couldn’t find a justification for it. she knew exactly what was going to happen. she knew exactly what peter was going to train her to become. and yet, she had a shred of hope that it would be less heartless, even if she didn't exactly know how. she shook her head, standing up to meet him. they stared at each other intensely, his jaw ticking and her teeth clenched. 

“i didn’t push him.” 

“like thats believable.”

a beat, and then he turned towards the kitchen, “i didn’t”. she felt her eyes well up with tears, trying to ignore the gargling sound coming from the man on the floor behind her. she heard the tap turn on, and then water rush as peter washed his hands, hissing at the stings from the scratches and bruises that began to form on him. he turned to face her again, and crossed his arms as he pointed his chin at the dying man before them, 

“go on.”

the tears began to fall then, and his face softened. he made his way towards her, gently bringing her down to the floor onto her knees. she couldn't stop crying, and he felt guilt swell in his chest. he knew it wouldn't be easy for her, and he hated that he was ultimately the reason for her crying. 

she shook her head violently, “i cant.” the choked words were small in her throat, and he heard him sigh next to her. at that moment, he regretted everything that lead him up to this point. he watched the shaking girl reach for the man, taking his face in her hands and whisper sobs of apology. peter climbed over to the opposite side of her, and reached to close his eyes. her eyes squeezed shut, as if to shield herself from what she anticipated was his next move. she felt as if she was going to pass out. the smell of blood was calling to her, and she pushed away her desire to bend over and taste the metallic liquid that now seeped onto her baby-blue dress. she heard the gorey sound of flesh ripping, and she sobbed harder. peter was next to her, now. she could smell him, and it mixed with the smell of the blood in a way that was all too overcoming. she felt him pull her down onto his lap, cooing in her ear and soothing her. when she looked at him, his face was dripping with blood, and she fought back the way it made her want to scream and kick her way out of his loose grasp. she wanted to hurt peter for hurting this man- it didn't matter to her what he may have done to him, but she knew that her brain simply couldn't process the truth behind what was happening before her, and her only sense of respite required her to push the blame onto someone; even if the blame was partially on her. bloodied hands caressed her head, and she watched as the other presented a large, meaty chunky of muscle. she shook her head again, her breath quickening. 

“just eat, angel. dont think about it. just eat.”

he urged the piece of flesh towards her mouth and she clutched her chest as she felt her sobs wrack her body once again. the way he whispered it softly in her ear, and his small breaths down her neck- his smell mingling with the aroma that radiated off the lump off flesh in front of her- it begged her to shove down any moral compass she had and feast. she wanted more than anything in that moment to let go and indulge in what was being offered to her. she heard quiet sniffles behind her, and she inhaled deeply as she tried to regain her composure, wailing quietly in peters arms. 

peter felt like the worst person in the world. as he sat there, cradling her frail body, all he saw was himself. he had now become the serpent, urging his eve to take a bite into the forbidden fruit. he’d become the person he hated the most, now, and the thought of it broke him. he tried to keep himself quiet, for her sake, whispering into her hair what he knew to be true. 

you’ll feel better, angel, i promise. just eat. i promise it’s okay. 

he watched her open her mouth ever so slightly, and he moved the meat closer. she bit through the muscle in tears, the salt wetness sliding down peters hands and washing away small fragments of blood along with it. she had never felt more conflicted. finally, she had satiated that undying hunger within her, and it felt so good. she almost moaned with the relief of it, savouring the way the blood trickled down her neck and gushed over her cheeks. her head spun- peter whispering words of praise behind her only made the moment feel more relieving. it’s okay, he chanted, and it really did make her feel okay. in those two words, she understood everything he was struggling to tell her. it’s okay, i understand. i know how it hurts and feels so good. 

he pulled her up with him, his fingers lingering on hers for a moment too long. she looked up at him, eyes glassy and red. he cradled her face and urged her to keep going. 

and she did. 

౨ׅৎ

“you should go shower. i’ll deal with this.”

he had locked all the doors, lead her upstairs into the empty bedroom and laid out a large shirt and a pair of jean shorts he’d found in the closet. she didn't dare question who they might belong to, knowing that it would ruin her again. the room was small, disgustingly brown, and reeked of weed and cigarettes. there was no semblance of belonging or personality to it- it felt as if the person who has inhabited it only rotted away in it their whole life. 

she stood watching herself in front of the full length mirror next to the bed. she’d stripped, left only in her cotton underwear and her bra. her fingers fell to her lips, tracing the stream of blood that led down her neck, shoulders, and in between the valley of her breasts. she dragged her nail down her abdomen and stopped at her bellybutton, admiring the way the blood that stained her skin complimented her so well. by now, she’d simply come to terms with it. she had known it all along. her father knew it, she knew it, and she could no longer hide from it. she thought about peter, and how gentle he had been with her. there was a mutual understanding between the two that they both hated this part of themselves, but he made her feel better about coming to terms with it. when she watched him feed with her, she noted how careful he was. she could sense a hint of shame in the way he went about it, despite the way he wiped his mouth unabashedly on the collar of his cotton shirt. 

a small part of her found it attractive. 

she heard a small cough come from the doorway behind her, and she turned quickly. peter seemed unphased by her near-nakedness, but she couldn't see how it woke something within him. she was truly beautiful, he thought, and it took every bit of strength in him to keep his eyes off of her body and meet her gaze. he was shirtless, and covered in blood, and she felt her breath hitch slightly at the sight. 

“if you wont shower, i will. you can have the bed, i’ll take the couch,” he turned towards the bathroom quickly, and she turned her gaze back to herself as she tried to ignore the sound of the shower running and the way she could see a sliver of his body through the crack of the door in the mirror, the way his muscles flexed and relaxed. she could see the litter of scars and bruises on his stomach, and part of her ached to tend to them. she busied herself by attempting to scrub off the blood on her arms in the bathroom she found a room over, waiting for him to finish so she could feel like she could breathe again, and sort herself out. she refused to think about what she had done before, instead focusing on the quiet breeze outside and faint chirping of birds. she wanted to cry again, and she wasn't sure as to why. she’d spent an ample amount of time scrubbing the red off of her arms, now focused on the dried substance clinging to her cuticles. she picked at them desperately, sniffling as she did so. it wouldn't go away, and she felt hopeless. 

she thought about her mother, and whether or not she knew of her daughter's ailment, and if that is what had driven her insane. she remembered the way she’d scream at her over the most trivial things when she was little, the way she’d pick at her fingers until they’d bleed incessantly, and they’d rush her younger self out of the room as they cleaned the mess up. part of her longed to see her again. she needed to know if her mother was driven away by her, and not her father, or the inevitability of mental illness that ran in her family, unlike what he recounted. was she like her, perhaps? driven to madness by a hunger that can’t be settled? and if so, was that her inevitable fate? to be pulled into a world of insanity, locked away into a hospital in chains and sentenced to a life of self-reflection and loathing? she wasn't sure if she wanted to know. peter appeared behind her again, this time clean and dressed. she rushed past him and straight to the shower, aching to scrub her sins off of her flesh until she burned. 

peter ran a shaky hand through his faux-blonde locks. he wanted to speak to her, know what she was thinking, what she thought of him, but he couldn't figure out where to start. he’d never felt guilty about killing sacks of shit before, but he did now. not because he found an ounce of sympathy for the thieving crook, but because he worried the girl would see him differently now. a killer, even though he wasn't lying when he said he hadn't pushed the man down the stairs. he had a different plan entirely. he knew she didn't believe him, and it killed him inside. he had a need for her to see him as good. he knew she was good, he was convinced of it. a good natured, tender-hearted girl. a sweet girl, that he desperately wanted to find a home in. neither of them belonged in this world. he wanted to shelter her from it, keep her safe from anything that might distress her. he wanted her to want to find solace in him as much as he craved to find it in her. he waited until he heard the shower shut off and knocked at her door, waiting until she gave him permission before he entered. 

she looked impossibly small in the shirt he gave her, and the way her arms and face ached red from rubbing away at her skin with the rough washcloth made him want to hold her as he did before. he wanted to guide her into the bed, back pressed against his chest and let her fall asleep in his arms. he knew he couldn't. he didn't know what was happening to him, but he felt the inescapable desire to take care of her. he thought of his best friend harry, and how he’d ridicule him over the fact. him and harry couldn't be any more different, but he missed the boy nonetheless. he wondered if he could take her to meet him. 

she rubbed her arms self-consciously at the way he stared at her, and he cleared his throat awkwardly, “i’m, uh, gonna be downstairs, if you need anything, just let me know.” she only nodded. she hadn't said a word to him in over an hour, and even though she knew she wanted to speak to him, she didn't know about what. instead, she climbed into the bed and watched as he shut the door behind him. her legs drew up to her chest and she let her head fall onto her knees. lock the door, she thought. she had grown to trust him only a miniscule amount in their short amount of time together, but she knew she should go the extra mile just to be safe. she stood up slowly, making her way to the door. she stopped for a second, her fingers lingering on the lock. 

she didn't know that peter was on the opposite side of the door, fingers lightly pressed against the wood. his breathing was even, and his head fell in self-disappointment. a voice inside his head, a persistent whisper, urged him to break the barrier of silence between them. talk to her, it pleaded, yet he remained rooted where he stood in uncertainty, the weight of his unspoken thoughts fueling his inexplicable yearning for her. 

she picked at her fingers again, “i should talk to him,” backing away from the door ever so slightly as she pondered on the idea. she felt at a loss; simply too much had happened in too little time, and she felt exhaustion weigh down at her. she stood there for a while, feet shuffling with unease, and peter made his way downstairs. 

peter navigated the unfamiliar surroundings with a sense of disquietude. each step he took felt heavier, burdened by the weight of unresolved tensions. his thoughts circled back to the closed door upstairs, a metaphorical barrier he couldn't bring himself to cross. he wandered aimlessly in the dimly lit room, the desire to reach out, clashed with the fear of rejection, created an internal struggle that mirrored the one unfolding upstairs.

the sound of a creaking floorboard broke the silence. it was her, retreating to the bed. he paused, the echo of her steps reverberating in the quiet house. for a fleeting moment, he contemplated returning to her door, but he remained now sat on the couch, his leg bouncing with anxiety as he chewed at his fingernails. the distance between them felt immeasurable, each lost in their own labyrinth of thoughts and emotions. the longing for communication lingered, a silent plea that hung heavy in the air- and he felt suffocated. he gripped at his hair harshly, letting out a pained groan as he tried to ground himself and his emotions. he hated feeling so lost, it made him feel like a boy again. he hated that feeling. he thought about how he could open up the gap between them to talk to her, show that his intentions are that of kindness. 

he fell asleep with his body half-off the couch before he could come to a conclusion.

౨ׅৎ

@dumbsoftheart, 2023

[demcntwins]

Aidan Al Ghul Daniel James Fenton; Danny Phantom

Age: 16 (generally, flexible)

Alias: Phantom, King Phantom, Inviso-Bill

Headcanons

Danny is Autistic & has ADHD

Aidan Al Ghul, called Danny by his brother who he in turn called Dami, was born just seconds before his brother Damian. He however came out silent, only beginning his time in the world after a dip in the Lazarus Pit. This always caused a friendly argument between him and his brother over who was older, him or Damian. Danny said it was him, well Damian said that because he wasn’t actually alive until his dunk in The Pit it didn’t count. During the minutes before his revival in the pit his brother was screaming for the return of his brother, an anger in his scream that one would except from the Heir to the Demon’s Head. It was only once his brother was breathing again next to him that he finally settled and ate.

Aidan and Damian look near identical with small differences, the most notable is how much more Danny looks like their father with his skin and eye color. His skin is lighter even if it does tan easily, his eyes a bright blue instead of green like their mothers. Over the years is became clear that well Aidan did excel in stealth and could vanish into the shadows at a moments notice, he didn’t surpass his brother in any other skills. He could vanish silently from sight by the age of 3, and by the age of 5 he was skilled with a sword just as his brother was-but he was far from being able to best his brother in a fight. Despite this he was still more skilled than many fighters older than him, and he could spar with most twice his size and come out on top with a few exceptions. Together with his brother? There were few who could best them even within The League. He was pushed just as hard as his brother though, and their grandfather expected nothing but perfection from the both of them.

He was given numerous tests in the form of both training and missions, and when he failed on a mission at the age of 8? He should have been killed. His mother though had followed him on the mission as she did with either of them when possible, and though she knew what was expected the idea of either one of her sons being killed was not one that she could tolerate. So she dropped Aidan in a small town in Ohio and told him that Aidan Al Ghul was dead, and he needed to stay that way if he expected to stay alive. Her parting words to him were that it The League ever found him? Go to Gotham and tell Bruce Wayne he was her son. He didn’t understand why until almost 2 years later when Tucker showed him a picture of Bruce Wayne’s newest son.

He was living on the streets in Amity for 2 months on his own before he was discovered, he kept to the shadows well enough that it wasn’t until a young girl was fishing a cat out of a dumpster he had been looking for food in saw him. She told him her name was Jazz and asked where he lived, he told her he didn’t have a home and gave the name Danny when asked. She assumed his name was Daniel, less than 20 minutes later she was dragging him through the front door of the Fenton house basically telling her parents that they were taking him in.

It wasn’t entirely that simple, they had to attempt to look for his parents and there was legalities involved. A few badly answered questions though and vaguely implying that his parents were dead and he was put into foster care, how the Fentons were approved he would never understand-but after just 6 months to get the paperwork in order they adopted him. Eventually he told Jazz he had a twin after she found him sneaking out to look at the stars, it was maybe 3 weeks after Damian was announced as Bruce Wayne’s son and Danny had a panic attack in the middle of the hallway at school-but he didn’t tell her everything.

He told her that they were inseparable until they weren’t, that they used to sneak out and look at the stars when they were suppose to be sleeping some nights because his brother knew how much he loved the stars, how tough their grandfather was on them. He told her that he used to say that their grandfather was like Orion and him and his brother were his hunting dogs, how his brother would always insist that he was Canis Major and he was Minor and they would end up fighting in the dark before their mother would find them and scold them. She would tell them that they were lucky that it was her and not Grandfather who found them and send them off to bed, they would lay next to each other because being apart during lessons was enough.

He admitted to her that he didn’t mind if he was Canis Minor and Dami was Major, he just liked teasing his brother and wished he could be with him again. 3 days later when Danny came home from school there was about 10 packs of glow in the dark stars on his bed, and any time he had a nightmare Jazz would crawl into bed with him and hug him.

Eventually Danny gets his powers, at some point he fights the Ghost King and finds out awhile later that besting the other now means he is the Ghost King. He starts learning more about The Ghost Zone, most of the ghosts who regularly bother him still do so-but it’s more out of routine than trying to actually win.  Well he’s not officially acting as Ghost King he is technically crowned on his 16th birthday, however he assigned his own council when he was. That consisted of Pandora, Frostbite, Dorothea and Wulf, with the idea that in the case of a stalemate he would be the deciding vote.

Danny isn’t stupid by any means, he knows how important it is to do his job well. Pariah Dark had let The Ghost Zone delve into chaos, and the living world has suffered because of that. Ruling on his own though it a future problem that is daunting to him however, he’s not only afraid that the power will go to his head like it did Pariah-but afraid that he will turn into the kind of ruler that his grandfather did. Dealing with the alternate version of himself though? It only made that fear worse. It was nearly a month after his crowning that he came clean to his friends and sister about just how much he remembered about his past.

They almost didn’t believe him and even when they started to it took convincing, him a trained assassin? Really? Once that was done though the reveal that Damian Wayne was the twin brother he told them about almost lost them again, but then Tucker pulled up a picture of the only biological Wayne Son on his phone and squinted between looking at the picture and then Danny for about 3 minutes straight before yelling out “Holy shit your Damian Wayne’s twin, your Bruce Wayne’s son. Dude!”. They didn’t ask how many people he had killed before he was declared dead, even though the “an assassin?” at the end of the conversation from Jazz and the way Sam and Tuck just sort of looked down told him they wanted to.

He’s glad they didn’t. He wouldn’t have lied to them, and he didn’t want them to leave him.

Then he decided to tell his parents about the ghost thing just a month after that, maybe he should have waited until he wasn��t living at home anymore-it probably would have been safer. They didn’t seem to know how to respond, they seemed conflicted between loving him and their hatred of ghosts. The later won out even if the former was still true, they tried to get the ghost out of him and let’s just say it wasn’t pretty. It was Pandora who freed him, Jazz was away touring a college campus. The Grecian Ghost had declared herself his Infinite Realm guardian not long before he was crowned after asking him if he would be fine with that, she sensed something wasn’t right even before the experiments his parents did to try and depossess him started causing quakes within The Zone because of his connection as King.

If she had it her way he would have stayed in The Zone, but he told her that he knew somewhere safe, somewhere that his parents research said had a good amount of ambient ectoplasm in the air. It was an excuse, he had stayed in Amity because of his family and his friends and now it wasn’t safe. He had a reason to go and find Damian. He’d wanted to ever since that day he saw the picture Tucker showed him that caused a panic attack. He told himself that it wasn’t safe though, he tld himself that The League couldn’t know he was alive. Then he’d had his accident and he could have handled it, but he told himself that he needed to stay and make sure the ghosts and humans didn’t kill each other.

Now his excuses gave him a reason to go to Gotham and see his brother again, if Damian even wanted to see him.

PSA: I know most DC people don’t play timelines where Damian is over like 13-14, because of that in those cases I just bump Danny’s timeline by 2-3 years so he got his powers at 11-12 instead of 14. In that case he is in fact the next king of the Ghost Zone and learns that 2-3 years early but does not get crowned King until he is 16.

He does however get crowned Prince and appoints his council at either 13 or 14, depending on what age he ends up in Gotham and tells his parents about being Phantom roughly a month after being officially made Crown Prince. He doesn’t really have any responsibility’s other than learning about the realm until he is crowned King, but he had have to meet with the council at least once a month to get updated on what’s going on.

[parkswritessometimes]

Escapees of IRIS Part 3

[Part 1 ][Part 2]

Chase squints his eyes as the rays of the sun hit his face, waking him from his slumber. He rolls over, spotting his new roommate Jackie sprawled out on the couch. His legs and arms hanging off the cushions with a spiderman comic book half open on his chest. A smile spreads across the former dad’s face at the pure silliness of it all. His limbs all twisted up in sheets, the comforter pushed to the side without a care. Chase has to fight the instinct to tuck Jackie in properly as he gets up. He creeps to the door only letting his toes touch the carpeted floor. He turns the knob slowly and steadily and pushes the door out without a sound.

Chase’s eyes wander around the small living room. He didn’t get much time to really take in the entire place last night. A pile of leather bound books  next to a mountain of crinkled paper sits in a corner, while a bunch of old laptops and red string sits in the other. A bookshelf that looks like it was from the dumpster filled to the brim with comics and old English literature. Framed photographs of everything from silly pictures of Marvin and Jackie to old wilted flowers line the walls. 

The entire apartment smells of cinnamon, nutmeg and freshly chopped wood giving the small place a feel of autumn. Blankets and pillows of all shapes and sizes cover the floor and couch enhancing the cozy homemade feel. Chase dragged his finger across one of the blankets, the fuzzy texture brought a smile to his face. He would definitely be taking that later. 

“Are you just gonna wander like a lost little kitten, or do you want some breakfast?” Chase whips around, a gasp caught in his throat. The green haired one-the magic one- stands in the kitchen, random ingredients strewn about. His smile is gentle and his eyes tired. 

“Marvin. Hey.” Chase gives a small chuckle as he tries to process Marvin’s existence. “You scared me.”

“I get that a lot. Go on. Sit.” Marvin motions to the small kitchen table, littered  with opened envelopes, spreadsheets and pens. Chase moves it all aside as he looks back at Marvin.

“You-You don’t have to pamper me. Honestly a bowl of cereal is fine.” Chase protests as Marvin starts to place each dish down in front of him. Chase has to stop his mouth from salivating as looks over the whole spread. Hashbrowns grilled to a perfect crisp, pancakes thick and fluffy, bacon that will give the most satisfying crunch, and in the middle of it a big omelet stuffed to the brim with meat, cheese and vegetables.  

“Yeah, no. Iris didn’t give you enough food and I think Jackie would kill me if we didn’t go all out.”  Marvin replies, filling his own plate. “Besides, we gotta take care of each other.”

“Take care of each other?” No one had cared for Chase Brody since September 27th 2016. When the ink on the divorce papers dried and Stacy took his whole life away. Why would these two be the ones to change that? Last night was a fluke, something of pity. At least that's what Chase wants to think, needs to think. It will be so much easier when they leave.

“I know you doubt us.” Marvin says, interrupting Chase’s thoughts. “I know that the last few years, hell decades, have put you through the worst of the worst. But Chase, we will protect you. We will keep you safe. I promise.”

“Why are you being so nice to me? Why are you doing this?” That is the one question that keeps coming back to Chase. There was always a motive, a reason. These two can’t be any different.  

“Because you’re like us.”

Chase stares at Marvin, his eyes darting around the mage’s face as he tries to make sense of the cryptic statement. How is he anything like them? What would a drunk homeless man have in common with a mage and a superhero?  Won’t it just be safer to just chuck him back out onto the street? Avoid this mess all together. Chase continues to pick at his food as he mulls over the question.   

“What was her name?” Marvin blurts out, trying to make some conversation. 

“I-I’m sorry what?” Chase stumbles over his words as he tries to process the question.

“Her name, ya know, your daughter?” 

Oh. His daughter. His little ball of pure sunshine and energy. He feels his heart break all over again as memories of her bright smile flooded his mind. Her laugh, her energy. All the daddy daughter dates they’d go on. All the last minute shopping trips for school. Helping her put on the cutest little dresses as Stacy yelled down stairs for them to hurry up. Those were the days. 

“My daughter’s name was Chloe. I wanted to name her Hope, but my wife- Stacy- didn’t go for it, so Chloe was a compromise, cause apparently Chole means hope but I think Stacy might have just made that up.” Chase feels his lips curl into a melancholy smile.The thought of her bringing a sense of bittersweet love into his heart and tears to his eyes. 

“Why Hope?”

“She was everything I could ever hope for. All my thoughts, and dreams, and love, it all shifted in an instant. I became hopeful again.”

“That’s…That’s really sweet.” 

“Yeah, well, she’s gone now.” Chase brings down the fork into his hashbrowns with a force he didn’t know was possible. The table shakes under the force, nearly knocking Marvin’s mug off the table. The wall that had been torn down the previous night is now back up. Good. Keeping these two at arms length is for the best, less heartbreak for all when the inevitable happens. 

The two resume eating in heavy silence. The awkwardness palpable between the two of them. Chase can tell Marvin wanted to say something, anything. Most likely a worthless apology, or even worse a “kind” way to say “if you’re going to be such a dick get out of my house.”. But neither of those came. He watches as Marvin fidgets with the cloth napkin, tying it into knots only to take them apart. Over and over. Guilt crawls up Chase’s spine, an apology was ready on his tongue but right as his mouth opens Marvin speaks up.   

“Jackie and I aren’t blood brothers. But we grew up in IRIS together. We understand what it’s like, losing everything.” Chase closes his mouth shut as he watches tears fall into Marvin’s lap. “I uh-I was taken into IRIS captivity when I was three and Jackie got taken when he was five They-They killed my family, my town, everything I had was gone. I watched them shoot my own mother right in front of me.”

“What?” 

“Yeah, they pillage towns, kidnap kids, tear apart families, and unleash horrors onto the world. Jackie and I, we just try and put back the remaining pieces.” 

“Is that how I’m like you? My family was torn apart and…”

“Yeah.”

“Oh…” It takes a moment for Chase to process everything. They’re all broken. Traumatized men who had every scrap of happiness taken from them. Every family member, every piece of their identity, stolen. Through some crazy fate of the universe they all found each other. He can feel that wall put up just minutes ago start to chip away. 

They are all in the same ocean of grief, waves pounding over their head, the kelp twisting around their legs pulling them down. And instead of tying weights to his ankles, they offered him a lifeboat. A free ride out of the storm and back to land.   

“Hey, good morning.” Jackie yawns as he sits down at the table. “Ooo! Bacon!” Chase watches as this ray of absolute sunshine reaches over the table pushing everything aside to get the breakfast food of his choice. 

“You’re doing the dishes, I hope you know that.” Marvin teases, as the light comes back into his eyes as he looks over at his brother.

“Oh what?! Not fair!” 

“Yeah, it is fair!” 

Chase feels something spark in his chest as Marvin and Jackie laugh and joke with each other. It’s small to be sure, but he can feel it. The warmth of laughter, the joy of words, the happiness that other people brought. He hasn’t felt this in almost two years. 

This flicker of hope, comes to light. His first instinct is to feel guilty, snuff out the flame before it could grow any bigger. How dare he try and be happy again. How dare he try to find love and kindness in a world that has done him so wrong. How dare he try to find peace after what he did. His mind begs him to smother this spark with cigarettes, alcohol and pain. To do what he has always done and leave. Leave everything that caused the little spark to emerge. 

But another part of him begs for this flame to live. To give it a chance to grow a blaze into something bigger. He wants this flame to bring warmth and light into his life again. He wants to throw as much kindling as he could into the little candle and pray it would turn into a wildfire, giving it a chance to melt the iceberg that had become his heart.  He will let Marvin and Jackie bring light into his world.          

 

-------

Thank you to all my Beta Readers! Literally the only people holding me accountable.

What? Parker posting on time? When they promised?? Is this witchcraft?!

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[Part 4]

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Tag List:

@brokentimewatch

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[realmackross]

PARTIES:@contemporarybardess, @howdy-cowpoke, @realmackross TIMING: Evening, September 10th. SUMMARY: Lloid and Elora take a very sick Mackenzie to Monty's farm. WARNINGS: Unsanitary tw (nothing heavy like past threads, just in relation to what Mackenzie is covered in and has to eat as a zombie), food poisoning tw (tagged for nausea), vomit tw (tagged for nausea) PREVIOUS THREADS: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - Current.

The moaning clearly wasn’t working. The vehicle wasn’t stopping. With each passing moment and the clearer the picture became, Mackenzie started to internally scream a little louder, until she forced her arm up trying to open the back door of the truck. But time after time, it dropped like dead weight. There was no real method of functioning at the moment, and she let out a growl of frustration.

What had she done? Mackenzie had put herself in a very bad position, “Ouuuuutttttt.” She let her eyes shift to Elora as drool ran from the side of her mouth. If she could eat this woman’s face off right now, she would just to spite her. But it wasn’t like the movies. This was real life, and she was struggling greatly just hoping and praying that something would change, so she could escape. Of course feeling like a dumpster fire wasn’t making things any easier, and with one last desperate attempt, she flung her arm at the door handle again, this time successfully hooking it.

Now, she just had to put it down to release the door, which was going to be an entirely different challenge, since her muscles were surprisingly achey. 

—

The ride over was not without its distractions. Elora noted her companion driving the truck was dead quiet and had a very determined look upon his face. The distraction came from the moaning and groaning coming from the back seat of the man’s truck. The woman who had previously only been able to lay lifeless and moan for help seemed to be moving, although not very well. Elora simply shook her head, knowing that she needed to conserve what little energy she had left or she might not make it. 

When she noticed Mackenzie’s hand reach the door handle, a bit of panic set in. If she manages to roll her carcass out of a moving vehicle, she’d be in even more trouble than she was in already. Risking a potential attack, Elora gingerly moved her hand away from the handle, allowing it to hang limply off the seat. 

Graciously, the ranch Lloid had spoken of was coming into view, so she would only need to corral her new rescue for a few moments longer. 

“You’re sure this guy’ll be able to help her?” She asked Lloid before stealing another glance towards the backseat. In response, the man simply shrugged his shoulders and said “No guarantees. But if anybody can help, this is the guy.” 

—

Mackenzie was so close. So close to freedom. So close to being able to shimmy her way out of the back of the truck. So close to……

And just like that it was gone.

All her effort. All the energy it took to get that far, and Elora had just leaned back and simply moved her cold, dead hand to a position hanging awkwardly off the back seat. You fucking bitch. Mackenzie tried to mouth the words. Push them out, but again, there was nothing but a squeak. Oddly enough, her brain had seemed to be catching up to the situation quicker than her body could and it sucked really freakin’ bad.

With a grunt of frustration, especially since she couldn’t really see where they were going, Mackenzie put her focus back on her hand and tried to once again reposition it to be useful, this time making a fist, so she could clock this random redhead the next time they were face-to-face. We’ll see who’s smiling after I knock that smug grin off your face, you red headed siren.

—

Elora watched in anticipation as they rounded on a fairly large looking farm, and approached a fairly substantially sized farmhouse with nearby barns not too far. She was like an excited child watching the animals grazing along the farmland, mainly because she hadn’t seen farm animals since she was very young. She tried to dial her excitement back a bit, however, as she needed to focus on the task at hand. 

She heard another muffled grunt from the back, but chose to ignore it this time. It wasn’t as if she would be able to crawl away at this point anyway.

At long last, they pulled up to the main house, and she saw a man wearing a cowboy hat. It was like somebody who stepped right out of an old John Wayne movie, except he would have probably been casted as the bad guy that The Duke ends up shooting. 

—

Monty didn’t know what to expect, really—he’d just gotten a call about a girl that needed help. Of course he questioned if he was the right choice for that at first, until he was told about her affliction. The reason she needed help, like so many of the others that had come to work on the farm, and even those who had only stayed a while before moving on with the tools they needed to make it through their unlife without having lapses in control. 

And it was ironic, really, considering Monty’s own struggle to stay on the wagon. But he’d always been better at helping others than he was at helping himself. 

Told that they’d be there within the hour, Monty had posted up on the porch to wait, knee bouncing anxiously as he sat on one of the chairs. Daisy popped in and out to check on him, but of course she wasn’t around when the truck finally pulled up the drive. That didn’t stop him from yelling for her, though, as he got up from his seat and made his way to the steps. He saw one of the hands climbing out of the driver’s seat—it was Lloid, the same one that had called him about the young woman. Concern etched into his features, the vaquero met Lloid beside the truck just in time for a stranger to climb out, one who… did not appear to be in very much distress. Must’ve been a third passenger, then. 

Looking between them for a moment, forgetting introductions in favor of urgency, Monty’s gaze settled on Lloid. “What happened? Where did you find her?” he asked in his thickly accented voice, his gaze jumping to the truck after catching some movement in the backseat out of the corner of his eye. 

—

Elora stepped out, intending to introduce herself to the stranger. However, she watched him walk right past her and make a beeline for Lloid. She couldn’t help but notice a sense of anxious urgency in the man’s voice. 

“I’m the one that found her, actually” she piped up before Lloid was able to speak. “I found her on the ground, more or less like that” she said, gesturing to the still barely moving shape in the backseat. “Blood around her mouth, barely able to crawl herself forward. She looks like one of those things from the old George Romero movies. And she’s acting like it too. I only know one zombie expert in town, and Lloid here told me you could help, but didn’t say much else. Are you a doctor?” she asked suspiciously, having never heard of a doctor who dressed like that. However, she knew some people could be eccentric, and what they wore didn’t automatically determine how good they were at their job. “Maybe a doctor who specializes in…” she looked back again at the truck “whatever’s happening to her?”

—

“Ah, lo siento,” Monty apologized, turning his attention in Elora’s direction. “A doctor?” He actually laughed, a smile spreading over his features. “No, no… but I have been dead for a very long time,” he explained. “Monty Rivera, señorita…?” As he waited for a name, he caught Lloid’s eye again and nodded toward the main house, silently telling him to go open the door. 

Introductions officially out of the way, Monty pulled open the car door to see the zombie sprawled in the backseat looking worse for wear, but it probably wasn’t anything she wouldn’t bounce back from quickly. Or so he figured. “The best thing I can do, I think,” he said to Elora as he reached into the cabin to gather the young woman in his arms, “is just be there in case she needs anything. It was good of you to help her—good thinking to get Lloid. She will be safe here, it is out of the way and… well, to put it plainly, there won’t be any particularly appetizing food around for her that isn’t already prepared.” It was strange, he’d never really seen a zombie in such a state after eating… this was usually what they looked like when they were starved. There was something more complex at play here, but he wasn’t sure what it was yet. 

“Hola, I’m Monty, I’m here to help you, okay?” he assured the young zombie as he pulled her from the back of the truck. “Dead folks got to stick together, eh?” He was trying to make light of the situation, hoisting her into his arms bridal-style and motioning for Elora to follow him to the main house. 

“When you found her… where was she? Was the thing she’d eaten anywhere nearby?”

—

Mackenzie had felt so invisible in the moment. The Flats had taken its power back, and now she lay like a useless mound of a corpse in the back seat of some stranger’s truck. Her threatening squeaks were fruitless. They provided no intimidation and now the stranger who had moved her hand wasn’t even paying attention to her. She was stuck. No going anywhere, until…

The truck had come to a stop, and she heavily shifted her eyes watching the man and woman climb out and slam the door. Straining her neck as best she could, she tried to listen, but a wave of nausea hit her and she had to relax. Mackenzie wasn’t giving up though and tried to pull her heavy hand up again. Still no luck. However, a sudden rush of light in on her tired and returning hazel eyes made her hiss in pain and squint.

Then Mackenzie was being pulled out of the backseat and hoisted into the arms of…a cowboy? What was happening? Was she going to be chopped up and fed to the farm animals? She wanted to kick. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. But all she did was hiss and squeak and moan. Real big threat you are, Mackenzie. At least her brain was starting to come around more. That was a plus right? But it still didn’t mean shit if she couldn’t run away or fight off Daryl Dixon and his band of comrades.

—

Dead. Sure, Elora had known of the undead’s existence, but she grew up being taught they were mindless predators. But the man in front of her seemed very composed and not intent on eating her at all. She dared to say he was downright charming, although she had to admit his accent did him many favors in that respect. 

She watched in awe as he picked up the ravenous woman seemingly effortlessly and with no regard for his own safety. She supposed that must have been a perk of already being dead. He beckoned for her to follow him into the house, and she quickly filed behind the two. 

“I found her in an alley, whatever it was that she was munching on must have either been left behind or eaten completely. I didn’t see anybody, just a lot of viscera around her mouth and hands and chest and…well everywhere to be honest. Although I don’t think bones have much in terms of nutrition, right?” 

“Do you think she’ll be okay? I mean, if she’s the same as you, do you think she’ll start acting like it again too?” She asked the man, nervous for the well being of the woman. 

—

His heart broke seeing the poor thing attempting to struggle like she was—he figured there wouldn’t be much he could say to get her to understand that she wasn’t in any danger, at least not until her head was more clear. Perhaps food would help that along, even if she had clearly eaten before being found… There was no telling what she’d ingested, and he still had a human frontal and parietal lobe left in the fridge from Alan’s recent delivery. He’d happily give her what remained, if it could help. 

“Mm, no… we get the most benefit from the… brain,” he said slowly, clearly not a huge fan of their affliction himself. “Everything else can be eaten, but it will not provide much energy, as you say.” Nodding to Lloid, who was standing at the front door waiting for them to enter, Monty sighed. 

“She will be all right in time, I would think. It takes considerable effort to kill a zombie, and I have never met one who was fed who remained in such a state for long.” He looked at Elora, offering a small, hopeful smile. “We are pretty hardy. I’m sure she’ll be fine in a few days, when she’s had some proper meals.” 

They moved into the house and Monty headed straight for the back bedroom, speaking to Lloid over his shoulder as he went. It was clear that this wasn’t the first time they’d handled this kind of situation, the details he wasn’t yet aware of notwithstanding. “Get some washcloths and the basin from under the sink,” he told the farm hand, “and go find an extra set of clothes for her in the dresser upstairs. Something from the second drawer down should fit her, I think.” Lloid gave a curt nod and a grunt of understanding before trotting toward the kitchen where he could be heard clattering around and turning on the faucet. 

“Elora,” Monty addressed the woman as he set Mack carefully down on the bed, propping her head up with pillows. “Can you do me a favor and go to the kitchen and get the brown package out of the fridge? It looks like… well, like something from the butcher. Can you bring that to me, please? Our friend here is going to need it.”

—

The young zombie had finally given up on her fight. Whatever was going to happen, was going to happen whether Mackenzie liked it or not. All she could do was let her eyes move back and forth between the cowboy, the red head, and the farm hand as she was carried inside. This is it. You’ve had a good run, old girl. Brody’s finally getting justice. I just hope it’s quick.

But what happened was not what she expected. Instead, she felt herself being laid down on a bed and propped up with pillows. Narrowing her eyes slightly, she looked between the various people seemingly doing what the cowboy said. He was clearly the one in charge. Gasping and trying to force out a sentence, Mackenzie weakly succeeded, “Kill…me?” She had tried her best to put in the inflection on the word me to make it a question and not a request, but she wasn’t so sure it went over very well.

Letting her eyes go back and forth now between Elora. Elora? Wait. She had talked to Elora before online. This was Elora? Her eyes stayed focused on her. Someone she sort of knew. But did she recognize Mackenzie? Desperately gasping, she tried to get Elora’s attention before she left the room. I’m sorry I called you a bitch! I’m sorry I called you a bitch! Don’t kill me!!! Fuck. If she could just talk already!

—

Not too keen on fulfilling her duty of brain retrieval, Elora begrudgingly made her way to the kitchen. She located the brown package Monty had mentioned pretty easily. It wasn’t the first time that she had held human viscera in her hands, but it wasn’t an activity she particularly enjoyed either. She figured the faster she delivered it to the man, the quicker she could be done with the whole situation. 

As she returned to the main room, she could hear the woman weakly groan out two words. Kill her? It was a question, not a command. That was surely a good sign, at least. She wondered if she was afraid they were going to try and hurt her in some way. Taking another risk, she gently placed a hand on the woman’s arm, ready to pull back in case she lunged for her. 

“We’re here to help you, not hurt you hun.” Part of being born and raised in the south, Elora always had a tendency to add affectionate terms like “hun” even when speaking to people she didn’t really know. Her days of having to barely scrape by through waitress jobs ingrained this habit into her further. She glanced down at the package she had handed off to Monty. “This is going to make you feel better…somehow.” 

Elora had always been cynical herself, so she was uncomfortable being thrust into a situation where she had to trust a complete stranger with not only the life of somebody else, but her own life as well. For all she knew, this could throw the woman into some kind of frenzy, being empowered by human brains, which could lead to her trying to kill Elora! However, it was out of her hands. She simply had to trust the man. Besides, it wouldn’t exactly be in good taste to tell a zombie what is and isn’t good for them, clearly the man had quite a bit of experience. 

—

“Kill you?” Monty parroted her, looking horrified. “Ay Dios mío, no, no, we’re not going to kill you.” Elora had returned at that moment, saying what he was thinking before he could get it out. With a soft smile, he put a hand over his heart, giving Mack a nod. “Here to help.” Accepting the package from Elora, Monty muttered a soft ‘thank you’ before his gaze jumped back to the doorway of the bedroom where Lloid now stood, basin of water in one hand, clothes and towels in the other. Monty motioned him forward, reaching for the bowl and taking it to set it down between his feet as he squatted at the bedside. 

“Need anything else, boss?” Lloid asked, looking a bit upset. Monty shook his head. 

“No, thank you, Lloid. You may wait in the living room if you’d rather.” The farm hand took up the offer without hesitation, setting the fresh set of clothes and towels on the bedside table and turning on his heel to leave the bedroom to the three of them. The eldest of them picked the brown paper package up and pulled it open, his attention falling briefly on Elora. 

“... I apologize if this is, ah… upsetting to see,” he offered sympathetically. “If you prefer, you can go join Lloid. In fact, I’m sure he could take you home, if that’s what you want.” He wasn’t sure how long Elora wanted to hang around to make sure the girl was going to be okay, but he wouldn’t judge either way. “But. You are welcome to stay as long as you like.” His dark gaze then returned to Mackenzie as he pinched some of the gray matter between his fingers. He held it up in front of her, having seen first hand how her limbs weren’t quite up to snuff yet… so he’d have to feed it to her bit by bit. That was fine. He’d done it before and he’d do it again. Unless, of course, she found a sudden burst of energy after realizing what it was. Couldn’t really be sure. “We’ll get you cleaned up after you eat, sí?” he said gently, extending a hand to her mouth. “Please try not to take a finger with it,” he joked, trying to bring some levity to the situation. 

—

The tired zombie watched both of them carefully, the cowboy staying while Elora left the room briefly, only to return with a package. They weren’t hostile in any way. In fact, they were both so gentle and kind with her. Something Mackenzie was starting to understand as she slowly came back around. It was hearing that they didn’t want to kill her and the feeling of Elora’s hand gripping her arm softly that reassured her that she was going to be okay. At least here. At this moment in time. Repercussions of her actions would come another day when she could better understand things.

“Thank…you.” The sentence was short and breathy, but genuine, especially upon seeing the farmhand walk in with water and clean clothes. What did Mackenzie do to deserve all of this kindness? If she could cry, she would, but right now, all she wanted to do was stay as still as possible. Too much movement and she felt as though she would lose whatever was filling her stomach.

Eyes moving back from Lloid to Elora and then to Monty, she watched as he started to unwrap whatever was in the package. But her heart sank when she noticed it was more brains. Mackenzie had been so full of the most random and unknown things, that for once, in her undead life, brains had not seemed appetizing at all. Her face shifting to something of disgust, she slowly shook her head, “No…not…hungry…”

—

“No no, that’s okay. I’d like to see this through, if that’s alright with you. I want to make sure she ends up alright.” 

She was surprised to hear the woman thanking them, as before she had been so hostile towards them. She turned her head back towards the woman and tried flashing a warm smile. She looked down and noticed she still had her fingers extended, so her injury wasn’t obvious. She was still getting used to not grabbing at things with her hand so as not to give herself away. 

She watched as the man took the piece of brain between his fingers as if it were an hors d'oeuvre and gently tried to feed it to her. It was for the best that he attempted to feed her, after all Elora wouldn’t dare be putting her fingers anywhere near her mouth at this point. 

She heard a weak voice proclaiming that she wasn’t hungry, and Elora couldn’t help but feel nervous all over again. What would happen if she didn’t eat, would she die? 

“You have to, it’s supposed to help you. Could you try maybe just a nibble?”

—

Hm. Well that wasn’t the reaction he’d expected. “Perhaps she’s already had her fill,” he mused, dropping the bit of organ back into the packaging and wrapping it up. “That’s all right, we can try again later.” Exchanging the food for a washcloth instead, Monty dipped it in the warm water at their feet and wrung it out. “We can at least get you a little cleaned up, eh? When you have the strength, there are some clothes here that I think should fit you.” He went about wiping her face and hands free of the blood that stained them, or at least as much as he could with nothing but a towel and some warm, soapy water. While he did that, he asked Elora to remove her shoes to help her feel more comfortable. 

“You probably already noticed, but you’re on a farm,” Monty explained to the young zombie as he worked to get her clean. “I am dead, like you. All of us are, actually. Everyone that works here.” He smiled. “Many of them came to me like you have, señorita. Some of them ended up staying to work here, as they had no place else to go. Now, that may not be the case for you, but you are always welcome here.” He glanced at Elora and nodded. “Both of you. Even if it is just to play with some goats. They’re pretty funny, after all.” 

—

Oh, thank God. They weren’t making her eat. She eased up a little more knowing that she wouldn’t have to consume anymore flesh or brains at the moment. Maybe when she was stronger. If she got stronger. At this point, she wasn’t sure why she had felt as sick as she did. Was this normal? Did zombies get sick? Maybe she wasn’t completely dead after all. No, don’t get your hopes up, Mackenzie.

The water did feel good to her, as much as she could feel it. Just like the woman’s grip, though subtle, it was still relieving to the touch. However, her mind could only focus on one thing, and the word dead pulled her back into the cowboy’s gaze, “Y-You’re a zombie…too?” There were more zombies? She wasn’t alone? Her eyes lit up with joy, well as much joy as she could muster. There were other zombies. She wasn’t alone. Mackenzie wasn’t alone. She wanted to cry and jump for joy and even hug the three who had saved her. Maybe the universe didn’t despise her as much as she had initially thought. “Are there llamas?” If there were llamas then maybe staying here for the rest of her undead life wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

—

Elora was pleased to see the woman was starting to gain some semblance of clarity back. She had to admire the kindness of the man who had opened his home to two complete strangers and was offering so much help for somebody in need. Undead or not, he seemed like a very good man in Elora’s opinion. She watched as he wiped her face with a washcloth. As the blood and gore began to clear from her face somewhat, Elora couldn’t help but notice how striking the woman’s features were. Sure, she had seen her on TV here and there, but she seemed much more radiant in person in spite of being so sick. 

Mackenzie seemed so happy to see other undead just like her, and Elora couldn’t help but feel happy with her. It was as if she was finding a sense of family for the first time, and she couldn’t help but empathize with the desire to find a kindred spirit. 

Elora lit up at the prospect of getting to pet the farm animals, never being able to visit places like petting zoos growing up. She noticed Mackenzie asking about llamas, wondering if those were her favorite animal. She had never seen one in person, and had to admit that being able to see one here did excite her. 

She turned to the cowboy once again, and simply asked “is she going to be okay? She seems better already”. 

—

Laughing, Monty shrugged his shoulders. “Afraid so. I died back at the turn of the twentieth century, when the land was dang near lawless. Happy to say it has gotten better since then, in most ways.” Then she was asking about llamas, and the man had to pause a moment. “Oh no, I can’t say that I do… and now you mention it, it seems like a very big oversight on my part, doesn’t it?” He smirked, looking back down at Mackenzie’s hand that was still in his grasp as he tried to wipe it free of the stains. “I tell you what. You focus on resting and eating right, and when you’re feeling better, I can see a man about some llamas. Sound fair?” He grinned at her again before glancing over to Elora. 

“Yes, I think… whatever happened, whatever triggered this for her will pass. It usually just takes time, and as I mentioned, a proper diet.” A beat. “Well, a proper diet for us, anyway.” Another beat. “It is strange, though. Different from what I normally see. A zombie usually loses their grip like this when they are starving, and eating clears that right up.” Which wasn’t to say that she wasn’t improving, she clearly was, but… “We’ll get to the bottom of it. In a place like this, there’s no telling what could have caused it. But maybe she will remember something from before the start of the episode.” They could only hope.

—

Mackenzie listened intently as Monty explained how he came to be. The turn of the century had been a really long time. Was she destined to live that long? In all the zombie movies she had ever seen, which had been a lot, especially after her movie research marathon with Milo, she had never caught on to how long a zombie actually lived. It was somewhat shocking, and not anything she really wanted to think about at the moment, but she was grateful that Monty was still around, “That’s a long time.”

Moving her gaze back down to her hand, she watched as the blood stains had started to fade somewhat, but in an instance a memory of Brody had flashed into her head causing her to squeeze her eyes shut praying to shake it free. It took a moment, but the old feeling of regret that had suddenly come back to her finally dissipated with the talk of llamas. Llamas had been a saving grace for her. It was weird. She knew it was weird, but somehow they just took her mind off of all of the bad. With a slow nod, Mackenzie agreed, “Deal. I love llamas.” She looked over to the otherside of the room not wanting to focus on the blood stains, just on the thought of her favorite fuzzy animal and occasionally on Elora when she’d catch a glance of her.

—

The turn of the twentieth century? Man, not only was this guy old, but he must have seen some shit. Elora leaned in attentively, listening to the rest of what Monty had to say. Things had indeed gotten better in some ways, and worse in others. There may not be duels at high noon anymore, but that didn’t mean the violence went away. 

She glanced again at Mackenzie, who looked down at her hands before shutting her eyes tightly. It was an expression she knew all too well. A profound sense of pain, grief and remorse. In her case it was from losing her family (partially from her own fault), but she couldn’t help but wonder what caused her to feel that way at that particular moment. She supposed everybody has their tragic backstory, it wasn’t her place to speculate.

“Oh, and maybe some chickens while you’re at it?” she replied, hearing the two strike up a deal to get some llamas on the property. “I just feel a farm isn’t complete without chickens, don’t you think so? Anyway, thank you again for everything you just did. It sounds like she’ll probably need to stay here for a little while. I’ll probably head back home soon, but I’ll come back to check in for sure!”

—

“Sí, well… I somehow managed to stay out of trouble since then, so I just keep on… keeping on.” Monty smiled in spite of himself, in spite of how he didn’t like that he’d live forever so long as there wasn’t some kind of attempt on his life. 

Elora piped up with a request for chickens, and the cowboy laughed. “Pollo, eh? They don’t help much in the way of dairy, but I suppose an egg here and there couldn’t hurt.” Who was he kidding, he was probably one of the more agreeable people in this whole town—if Mack wanted llamas and Elora wanted chickens, who was he to say no? It didn’t matter that they didn’t live on the farm, he was always looking for excuses to make other people happy. 

“Well if I’m getting chickens because you specifically asked for them, then I hope you’ll drop in now and then!” he teased. Feeling like the weight in the room had cleared, Monty allowed himself another soft smile, looking back at Mackenzie. “Well. Is there anything I can get for you? If not, I think you should try to… rest. Give your body time to recover. Close your eyes, try not to think about much. I think they call it meditating, heh.”

—

Mackenzie could feel a weight being lifted off of her shoulders. At least for the time being. Between the cowboy, whose name she still didn’t know, and Elora, it felt safe. No worries about being killed or facing a fight she wasn’t ready for. Just a place to rest and recoup her mind, body, and hopefully soul from all that she was about to have to face. Of course, she had hated hearing that Elora was leaving, but she understood, and the man was right. Mackenzie had longed to sleep, something she hadn’t successfully done in a very, very long time.

The past few days had been long and tiring. That much the zombie knew. What Mackenzie had done and who she had tormented would come out in time, but until then, she was just going to be grateful for the trio that had saved her undead life. She owed them, and when she was well again she would repay the cowboy, the red head, and the farm hand. But until then…

“No, just sleep.” Much like Billy from Hocus Pocus, Mackenzie gave a wide yawn, before closing her eyes. Her body was so weak and weary, but the rest was starting to come easy, as she managed to doze off with a quiet mind for now. Hoping that when she awoke, she would at least be back to some semblance of herself, before whatever had taken control of her body.

[jensownzoo]

Well that's a sense of accomplishment! I got all my transplanting done today that it is possible to do without putting in whole new beds (on the agenda), minus the baby basil that's too small to do anything with yet. Hopefully the storm that's rolling in right now will gently water everything in and not pound them flat.

This is the front yard bed (and little bed of fennel, strawberries, and spearmint to the side). There's a permanent flowerbed wedged up against the porch, but then we have a row of favas and borage, a row of peppers (all small-sized fruiters since it's part shade), the stepping stone walk that has crimson clover/Kentucky colonel mint/numerous cosmos seedlings/and two passionfruit vines, then a row of tomatoes, then a row of peppers, then a row of eggplant, and then the sidewalk.

This raised bed is more or less in the middle of my paved "backyard". It's got perennial pea vine in the front, sunchokes in the rear, a line of beet seedlings in the center, six Heinz 1350VF tomatoes on the sides along with marigold seedlings, and I transplanted in the five little sweet potato vines that I overwintered from my late summer experiment growing slips. One of the vines had a tiny sweet potato growing about the size of my pinky. This bed may be a little iffy because it's still pretty mulchy. I'm going to keep an eye out for nitrogen issues and add it as necessary. You can also see the bed with my snap peas to the left with an A-frame trellis made from two woven fence panels.

This bed is along my rear privacy fence facing the alley. It gets weird sun so I planted all my Japanese black trifle tomatoes on the right side (towards us in the pic) and put some cherry and pear tomatoes in the shadier left. Also have morning glory and hyacinth bean sprouting at the back which will climb up the crib spring panels and drape over the fence.

This is the big raised bed running all along the property line on the west side and has a semi-privacy fence (it's like a picket fence but 6 feet tall) as a part of it's build. It's divided into four sections, though you can only see three here (the fourth is nearly entirely shaded and currently is full of mostly kale and covered with row cover. I just finished installing the hardware cloth on the fence and over a top frame yesterday. The front of the beds (to the left) will eventually have doors of framed hardware cloth too creating a garden cage to keep wildlife from stealing everything. In the nearest section pictures, there are two pear tomatoes and 8 tomatillos (2 varieties). The next two sections have tomatoes and basil. All three beds have nasturtium, French marigold, and zinnia seedlings growing at the front edge, but they're still very tiny. There's also a salvaged mum in the second bed that I hauled out of the green waste dumpster in the fall and stuck in the ground to see if it would survive. It did. No idea what it will look like either.

Tomorrow is for inside tasks, but I want to get some zucchini, winter squash, and the first planting of beans in the ground this weekend so they can sprout and get growing.

I'm delaying putting in cucumber this year until the peas are done in hopes the cucumber beetles will fuck off elsewhere and I won't need my insect net bags. They worked well until the plants got very leafy--they then developed fungal disease due to the reduced air circulation. I still got some cucumbers, so it was better than the year before, and I killed literally thousands of cucumber beetles with my unprotected trap plant. But going to try a bit of tweaking to the method and some patience. I would like enough this year to restock my pickles AND eat fresh.