#the bag is also a reconstruction

[fouryearsofshades]

winter yuanlingpao by 青泠谷 原创汉服店 

[physalian]

How to Make Your Writing Less Stiff Part 3

Crazy how one impulsive post has quickly outshined every other post I have made on this blog. Anyway here’s more to consider. Once again, I am recirculating tried-and-true writing advice that shouldn’t have to compromise your author voice and isn’t always applicable when the narrative demands otherwise.

Part 1

Part 2

1. Eliminating to-be verbs (passive voice)

Am/is/are/was/were are another type of filler that doesn’t add anything to your sentences.

There were fireworks in the sky tonight. /// Fireworks glittered in the sky tonight.

My cat was chirping at the lights on the ceiling. /// My cat chirped at the lights on the ceiling.

She was standing /// She stood

He was running /// He ran

Also applicable in present tense, of which I’ve been stuck writing lately.

There are two fish-net goals on either end of the improvised field. /// Two fish-net goals mark either end of the improvised field.

For once, it’s a cloudless night. /// For once, the stars shine clear.

Sometimes the sentence needs a little finagling to remove the bad verb and sometimes you can let a couple remain if it sounds better with the cadence or syntax. Generally, they’re not necessary and you won’t realize how strange it looks until you go back and delete them (it also helps shave off your word count).

Sometimes the to-be verb is necessary. You're writing in past-tense and must convey that.

He was running out of time does not have the same meaning as He ran out of time, and are not interchangeable. You'd have to change the entire sentence to something probably a lot wordier to escape the 'was'. To-be verbs are not the end of the world.

2. Putting character descriptors in the wrong place

I made a post already about motivated exposition, specifically about character descriptions and the mirror trope, saying character details in the wrong place can look odd and screw with the flow of the paragraph, especially if you throw in too many.

She ties her long, curly, brown tresses up in a messy bun. /// She ties her curls up in a messy brown bun. (bonus alliteration too)

Generally, I see this most often with hair, a terrible rule of threes. Eyes less so, but eyes have their own issue. Eye color gets repeated at an exhausting frequency. Whatever you have in your manuscript, you could probably delete 30-40% of the reminders that the love interest has baby blues and readers would be happy, especially if you use the same metaphor over and over again, like gemstones.

He rolled his bright, emerald eyes. /// He rolled his eyes, a vibrant green in the lamplight.

To me, one reads like you want to get the character description out as fast as possible, so the hand of the author comes in to wave and stop the story to give you the details. Fixing it, my way or another way, stands out less as exposition, which is what character descriptions boil down to—something the audience needs to know to appreciate and/or understand the story.

3. Lacking flow between sentences

Much like sentences that are all about the same length with little variety in syntax, sentences that follow each other like a grocery list or instruction manual instead of a proper narrative are difficult to find gripping.

Jack gets out a stock pot from the cupboard. He fills it with the tap and sets it on the stove. Then, he grabs russet potatoes and butter from the fridge. He leaves the butter out to soften, and sets the pot to boil. He then adds salt to the water.

From the cupboard, Jack drags a hefty stockpot. He fills it with the tap, adds salt to taste, and sets it on the stove.

Russet potatoes or yukon gold? Jack drums his fingers on the fridge door in thought. Russet—that’s what the recipe calls for. He tosses the bag on the counter and the butter beside it to soften.

This is just one version of a possible edit to the first paragraph, not the end-all, be-all perfect reconstruction. It’s not just about having transitions, like ‘then’, it’s about how one sentence flows into the next, and you can accomplish better flow in many different ways.

4. Getting too specific with movement.

I don’t see this super often, but when it happens, it tends to be pretty bad. I think it happens because writers feel the need to overcompensate and over-clarify on what’s happening. Remember: The more specific you get, the more your readers are going to wonder what’s so important about these details. This is fiction, so every detail matters.

A ridiculous example:

Jack walks over to his closet. He kneels down at the shoe rack and tugs his running shoes free. He walks back to his desk chair, sits down, and ties the laces.

Unless tying his shoes is a monumental achievement for this character, all readers would need is:

Jack shoves on his running shoes.

*quick note: Do not add "down" after the following: Kneels, stoops, crouches, squats. The "down" is already implied in the verb.

This also happens with multiple movements in succession.

Beth enters the room and steps on her shoelace, nearly causing her to trip. She kneels and ties her shoes. She stands upright and keeps moving.

Or

Beth walks in and nearly trips over her shoelace. She sighs, reties it, and keeps moving.

Even then, unless Beth is a chronically clumsy character or this near-trip is a side effect of her being late or tired (i.e. meaningful), tripping over a shoelace is kind of boring if it does nothing for her character. Miles Morales’ untied shoelaces are thematically part of his story.

Sometimes, over-describing a character’s movement is meant to show how nervous they are—overthinking everything they’re doing, second-guessing themselves ad nauseam. Or they’re autistic coded and this is how this character normally thinks as deeply methodical. Or, you’re trying to emphasize some mundanity about their life and doing it on purpose.

If you’re not writing something where the extra details service the character or the story at large, consider trimming it.

—

These are *suggestions* and writing is highly subjective. Hope this helps!

[prokopetz]

Inadvisable tabletop RPG premise #137: To Shreds, You Say – a oneshot-oriented game in which the group generates a set of characters, then frames an opening scene where all of those characters are found dead in some ridiculously violent fashion, with each corpse bearing several very specific injuries and accompanied by several pieces of faintly absurd physical evidence, both drawn from a large random table or card deck.

Events then flash back to the day before, notionally representing the investigators' reconstruction of what happened. Play proceeds conventionally; however, at any time, a player can step into the role of one of the investigators trying to figure out how the player characters died, and propose a theory based on one of the injuries or pieces of evidence: e.g, why did this character have electrical burns on their left arm? Why were they carrying a plastic shopping bag full of rubber ducks at the time that they died? Why wasn't their corpse wearing pants? Actions which advance the proposed theory receive mechanical bonuses, and theories can also re-write previously established details; the injuries and evidence thus serve both as a resource pool and as character-specific set of dramatic editing triggers.

Each injury or piece of evidence can only be invoked a limited number of times before a final conclusion regarding it is reached, and when the last one is exhausted, that becomes the immediate reason the character in question died. (Yes, even if it it's the pants thing.) There's thus a tension in play between the investigator persona, whose goal is to reach final conclusions as quickly as possible, and the victim persona, whose goal is to not die before their objective is complete. If a PvP twist is desired, you might have each player assume the role of a different player character's investigator.

[mariasont]

Office Sleepover 3 - A.H

a/n: yeehaw this took me way longer than i thought but here she be

i feel like im so ass at writing smut so just bear with me yall

masterlist

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

part one here! part two here!

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: in which reader gets put on a hit-list and has to stay in the office (kind of based off when penelope got put on a hit-list by the dirty dozen)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, hungover reader, unwanted attention from some rando, awk as fuck reader, fingering, dirty talk, doing the dirty in the office, definitely illegal, definitely probably caught on cameras

wc: 4.2k

Everything hurt--your stomach churned, your head throbbed, and your eyes burned. You squeezed them shut, feeling your body tense against the stiff fabric of the pull-out couch. Fists curled tightly, you gradually let your eyelids part, casting a slow, sweeping glance around the room, trying to piece together what the hell happened.

Pain hammered around the inside of your head. You desperately needed a hefty dose of Advil--ten at least. As though your mind had materialized them, you rolled over to discover a bottle and a glass of water on the nightstand. You assumed you had JJ to thank, though the certainty of that was as fuzzy as your thoughts. Each effort to reconstruct last night's events was a stab to your already excruciating migraine.

You had all your clothes on, that was a plus considering your notorious history with wine and stripping. Stripping. Your hand slapped over your mouth, a floodgate of recollections bursting through--calling Hotch in a wine-induced haze, flashing your tits, asking him to stay.

You were in full-blown panic mode, the sudden urge to throw up clawing at your throat. The bed was empty, save for yourself, but you vividly remember Hotch laying down with you. This only left two possibilities: he left after you fell asleep or it had been a figment of your imagination. You were desperately hoping it was the latter.

But clearly, the universe had its own plan, because there he was, leaning against the door frame, a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and a paper bag that, by the smell of it, contained greasy food.

With a throat like sandpaper and sweaty palms, you met your boss's gaze. "Hotch," you croaked, pausing to swallow. "Um, good morning--or is it? My sleep schedule's always off after drinking. It feels bright in here, right? It's also kinda hot, is the AC working?"

You impulsively rose from the bed, a decision you instantly regretted as the room seemed to spin around you in protest.

"Sit down," he commanded, a firmness in his voice that brooked no opposition, and you promptly sat your ass back down, watching him with an expectant look.

You attempted to read his face, but it was a blank slate, making you that much more nervous. He must hate you, you figured, because you certainly hated yourself. Your boss had seen your nipples. A wave of heat washed over you, and you clenched your eyes shut, as if that could make this situation disappear.

"Here," he said, handing you the coffee and the bag, then gesturing to the Advil on the counter. "Take that, and I know you might not feel like eating, but it's necessary. The food and coffee will stabilize your blood sugar levels."

"Right, yeah, course," you nod, accepting the items with shaky hands, holding the cup with a grip that's a little too firm. "Listen, sir, I'm really sorry about last night. I promise I don't usually drink that much. I don't even know how I got that drunk, and I know I acted completely inappropriate towards you. If you need to file a complaint, I understand. Again, I'm just so sorry..."

You wanted to cry, but you held it back, knowing it would only make this whole situation worse. You deliberately avoided his eyes, focusing on anything but him while you absentmindedly toyed with the breakfast sandwich in your hands.

After a moment, he releases a soft sigh, the mattress sinking slightly as he settled beside you, his knee gently knocking yours.

"I'm aware this week's been tough on you. It's, uh, clear you weren't thinking straight, and I'm not about to make a formal issue out of a slip-up."

Your head dipped, as you tried to fend off the rising warmth in your face. "I don't think I can ever look you in the eyes again."

"That feels dramatic," he pointed out, a chuckle in his voice that made you glance his way. "Trust me, it's already forgotten."

That was a lie. He may have lacked Reid's eidetic abilities, but there was no possible, imaginative way that he would forget the image of you topless--it was imprinted in his memory. In fact, it had become the sole focus of his thoughts ever since. He silently thanked the gods that it was a Saturday, and he didn't have any pressing work issues.

"Somehow, that's not very comforting," you replied, a suppressed giggle breaking through as you met his gaze. "So, did you, um, end up staying over?"

Your cheeks glowed with a soft pink, hands unconsciously smoothing over your thighs--a nervous habit of yours he had quickly taken notice of. It emerged involuntarily when you faced tough cases, or when your computer took too long to start up, or even when the elevator made an unexpected noise.

"I did," he admitted, "You shouldn't have been alone."

Your whole body felt like it was on fire, and you were weirdly frustrated that you couldn't recall being the same bed as him, being able to feel his body against yours. You bet he was warm, and soft, and large against you.

"Thank you."

His phone went off. "Hotchner."

Your eyes followed his movements, noting the firm nods, watching as he stood, his expression hardening, jaw tightening, and hand coming to rest on his chin as he faced away from you.

The phone call was brief, and he quickly turned his attention back to you. "We've got a case."

And it was quite the case--three male victims, all in their forties. Each crime scene was close to Quantico, about twenty minutes, sparing the team any extensive travel. Though, after last night, you don't think you would have minded if they had been halfway across the country.

You were really banking on Hotch's ability to keep things professional, knowing full well that if Morgan caught wind of this, you'd be better off dead.

The team was huddled around the briefing table, absorbing Garcia's detailed rundown of the killings--they were violent to say the least--with heads bashed in and over twenty stab wounds per victim. Whoever was doing this was angry.

Hotch eventually split everyone up into tasks—Spencer and Morgan to the crime scenes, JJ and Emily interviewing the families, and Rossi was tasked with convening with the local police force. So, you know who that left at the office? You, Hotch, and Penelope. What a great group.

You avoided both of them, a pattern that had become all too familiar you had realized. Hunched over your desk, you were engrossed in sending Spencer images of your latest research on the town. True to form, he responded--Can you just fax that over to the police station?--because god forbid, he has to read it from his phone.

So, there you were, barely resisting the urge to slam your head into the fax machine. You wouldn't consider yourself technology impaired, but to say you were on friendly terms would be overstating it.

"Need help?"

"Oh, yes, please—," you began, but your voice trailed off as you noticed one of the guys from forensics hovering just a tad too close for comfort.

"They're always a bit stubborn," he noted, barely giving you space to breathe before his shoulder nudged against yours as he fiddled with the device, "just a slight...there we go."

The machine sprang into action, prompting you to step back and acknowledge his help with a nod. "Oh, thanks."

"Not a problem," he assured, stepping closer in the process, his fingers lightly brushing your thigh as he pointed out the correct button. "You see, it's all about timing," he added, his voice low and unnecessarily close, "these things can be so fussy, right?"

A subtle nod was your only response, hoping he'd take the hint that you weren't in the mood for small talk. The hangover clung stubbornly, and the whiff of his breath was a cruel taunt against the fragile peace you were maintaining over your stomach.

"So, do you find this kind of tech stuff challenging?" he asked, a little too casually. The question hung awkwardly in the air. You sought to put some distance between you, yet he matched your every move, keeping the space closed. "I mean, I'm pretty good with my hands, not just with machines honestly."

Ew.

You mustered a smile, though you were sure it was more of a grimace. The room felt smaller, the walls inching closer. "I usually manage," you responded, the strain evident in your voice.

He leaned closer, if that was possible, it was like the concept of personal space was foreign to him. "Maybe I can show you a few tricks, help you manage a little better?"

His words were light, but his proximity was anything but, almost suffocating.

Just as you were firmly about to tell him to shove it, a sharp voice beat you to it--probably for the best.

"That won't be necessary."

The forensics guy, whose name you still hadn't gotten, straightened, his smile faltering under the weight of Hotch's piercing, don't fuck with me, stare. A look usually saved for unsubs and incompetent officers, but now it singled out this man.

The same look remained on the poor guy as he directed his words to you, "why don't you join me? We need to go over some case details."

It really wasn't a question.

The man backed up instantly, mumbling something under his breath about just trying to help, but Hotch's glare followed him until he was well out of earshot.

Surprisingly, a similar sharpness was aimed at you as soon as he opened his mouth. "I'd appreciate it if you chose to flirt on your own time, not the Bureau's."

His words landed with the sting of an unexpected slap. You blinked, taken aback. "What? I wasn't--,"

But he didn't allow you time to finish. Instead, he pushed a water bottle in your hands, his eyes scrutinizing your face with such an intensity that you wished the floor would swallow you whole. "Drink. You look pale."

"Gee, thanks," you grumbled, under your breath, more to yourself than him, as he wheeled around and headed briskly for the briefing room.

Your steps lagged slightly behind him, your forehead lined with a thoughtful frown. What was that about? The way he acted--the tightness that had formed around his mouth and the harshness in his words, it was so unlike him, well, at least for it to be directed at you.

The rest of the day unfolded just as you thought it would upon waking--like shit. Hotch kept his distance, his exchanges with you brief and to the point. Every time you tried to grab his attention, hoping to clarify things (why you felt the need you weren't sure), he was already looking else, focused on literally anything but you.

It was painfully evident that he was avoiding any personal conversation with you, a realization that bit deeper than anticipated.

The office slowly emptied, the case binding you and Hotch to the briefing room, the only sounds being the faint gentle tapping of your pen and the occasional snap of your hair tie.

It was late when you finally spoke. "Hotch, this says the victim had fibers under his nails that don't match anything from the suspect's home."

Hotch's gaze snapped up to yours. "Are you saying you think the forensics team missed that?"

You met his eyes squarely, cocking your head to the side at the tone of his voice. "I'm not saying anything. I'm just pointing something out."

He bridged the space between you, his jaw set in a firm line. You could feel the warmth spreading across your cheeks as the distance dwindled.

"I'm just saying I don't want you jumping to conclusions based on underdeveloped theories."

You met his eyes with a glare, your teeth grinding together in the process. "Underdeveloped? Is that how you see my contributions now?"

The space between you had now vanished, your heart racing, finger almost poking into his chest as you spoke.

Hotch settled back against the wall, arms folded across his chest, giving you a pointed look. "I didn't say that," he replied, his voice level, markedly different from your agitated one. "We just can't afford to investigate every insignificant detail."

"Every insignificant detail?" you scoffed, "these are leads, Hotch."

His shoulders lift in an indifferent shrug that made you want to wrap your hands around his throat, and not in the good way. "Maybe. However, we need to be sure before we pursue it."

Drawing in a controlled breath, you fought to stay calm, but he was making it very hard. The sensation was all too reminiscent of college, contending with the overconfident frat boys just to voice your thoughts. That comparison may have been a tad extreme--Hotch was far from being like those insufferable boys, but he was certainly pushing your limits right now.

"I am sure. Why aren't you listening."

"I am listening," he said, but his voice was distant. "I just... I just don't want to get sidetracked, that's all."

"Sidetracked? By what, exactly?"

"I'm just not sure you're all here right now."

You felt your cheeks warming with a tinge of shame, but you pushed back, fists clenched at your sides. "I'm here, Hotch. I'm focused."

"Because last night—,"

"Last night was a mistake, okay? I got it. I already apologized for that. But I'm not irresponsible, my focus is on this case."

A lengthy pause followed, his expression unreadable. "You're certain about that?"

"Yes, I'm certain," you snapped, moving towards him again. "And for the record, JJ said you were okay with us having a few drinks."

"I was," he admitted. "But I didn't think—,"

You didn't let him finish. "What, that I'd get wasted? That I'd do something stupid? I'm sorry I'm not perfect."

"Well, yeah."

"Screw you, Hotch."

You knew that was a mistake the minute his nostrils flared, his chest now a pressing force against yours.

Then, without warning, his lips crashed into yours. A muffled oomph of surprise left you, your hands hanging motionless at first, only to quickly melt, grasping at his jacket, pulling him into you.

It wasn't a gentle kiss, nor was it kind, but it was magic, exceeding anything you could have imagined, setting every fiber of you on fire. His lips pressed against yours with an intensity that drew out a breathy sigh, arousal tingling through you, and your passion rose to meet his, equally hungry, equally desperate.

Your fantasies had never done him justice--kissing him was intoxicating, and now you could feel yourself getting lost in the sensation, realizing it was everything you never dared to hope for.

Drawing back just enough, his hands drew you closer, pressing against the dip of your back, his breath fusing with yours in a dizzying blend, making the air seem scarce.

Against the soft pressure of his lips, you murmured, "I wasn't flirting."

There's a pause as his eyes locked on yours, searching, questioning. Then, his hand settled at the side of your neck. "You better not have been."

Any witty comeback you had dissipated as his lips crashed against yours again, more urgently this time, his hands tracing every contour of your clothed body with an insatiable curiosity.

His grip tightened around your waist, effortlessly lifting you onto the briefing table's cold surface with a resounding thud, his palms then cradling your thighs. Documents and files fluttered beneath you, hopefully they weren't too important. His eyes, dark pools of brown, were meticulously scanning your face.

"You," he breathes out, his voice a low rumble laced with something you couldn't quite place, "have consumed my thoughts since the moment I discovered you on my couch." He inches closer, his breath scorching your cheek as his fingers waltzed a pattern up your thighs. "Do you understand that feeling? The intense frustration?"

You were rendered motionless, frozen in place, scared to even twitch and risk this all being a very realistic wet dream. This was Hotch, your boss, the man defined by his lack of outward emotion. To think that you--of all people--could have an effect on him was an overwhelming concept. The room seemed to tilt on its axis as he gently guided your legs apart, positioning himself between them.

"Y-Yeah, I know," you uttered unevenly, your thoughts scattering as your hands tentatively reached for his collar.

"So, you know what it's like, huh?"

Your nod was subtle, a flustered smile briefly lighting up your expressions.

"And?" he prompts, while his fingers explore the shape of your thighs, squeezing gently.

You squirm under his gaze, the intensity of it making your heart race inside your chest.

"And... it's annoying," you confess, puffing out a breath, trying sound annoyed, but the delicate blush dusting your nose gave you away, you were sure.

"Annoying?" Hotch repeats, his hand tenderly angling your face upward, his smile laced with a taunt. "Is that all?"

You rolled your eyes, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "It's distracting," your voice was softer now, desire pooling in your belly as you grasp just how compromising of a position you were in.

"Distracting," he tsked, echoing you once again as he nodded solemnly, pulling your hips into his. Your mouth parted in an 'o' of surprise, your gaze lifting to meet his. "Have I been the subject of your thoughts, then?"

Your head dipped in a nod, your fingers brushing against his firm chest, a soft blush coloring your cheeks. "Maybe a little, in a totally platonic boss-employee type of way."

"Oh yeah?"

You caught your lip between your teeth, considering your next words very carefully. "Well, maybe more than a little, and maybe more than just a boss."

"Oh, wow," his breath was a warm hover over your lips, hanging in the space between you. You ached for the tase of him again, rich with dark expresso and spiced cinnamon. It was a lovely combination. "Sounds serious."

You released a hushed giggle, a light note floating between you as your foreheads met. "It's not like I can help it."

"And why is that?"

"Because," you paused, wetting your lips in anticipation, "you're infuriatingly unforgettable, that's why."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"You would."

He was kissing you again. This time a little softer, unhurried, and the whole reason for your argument faded into nothingness. Although if insubordination led to this sweet consequence, it might just become a habit.

His lips traced a path down your throat, prompting your head to tilt back, baring the expanse of your skin to his exploration. Your legs wrapped around his waist, drawing him impossibly close. The world seemed distant, the sensation dreamlike, buoyed by the soft lull of a lust-induced haze.

Reason gave way to impulse; your hands lost in the softness of his hair, your back arching to his hands grasping at your ass, your clothed pussy grinding against his erection.

His hands hesitated, hovering as he reached for your top, his eyes holding yours. "Is this okay?"

You nodded, more eagerly than necessary, but that still wasn't good enough for him.

"I need a verbal yes or no."

Desperation clung to you, a needy sigh escaping you as you squirmed into his touch, his hands halting your restless movements. "Yes, please, Hotch."

"You were so eager to call me Aaron last night. Say it again."

"Aaron, please, I need you to touch me," your voice rang out, imbued with such sweetness making his length constrict against the fabric of his slacks.

His fingers deftly navigated to the hem of your shirt, sliding it over your head with a fluid motion. Your bra was next, its clasp yielding effortlessly to his touch, your tits releasing with a gentle bounce, and he fought back a groan as his large hands enveloped them.

"Every bit as perfect as I remembered," he said, his fingers skillfully pulling and twisting at the nubs as you brought you forehead to meet his, a breathy gasp tumbling from your lips at the contact.

You arched your back into his heads as he let out a soft chuckle, loving the way your body reacting to him. Your eyes held a glazed-over look, lips parted ever so slightly, and you looked up at him expectantly in way that could surely kill him. 

His hands moved slowly down your sides before brushing the sensitive skin under your waist band. You swallowed a gasp, moving your hips into his again, rolling yourself against his stiff erection.

His palms pressed against your hips. "Slow down. Let me take my time with you, yeah?"

You were at his discretion; he could ask you to jump into oncoming traffic right now and you'd probably say yes.

A nod was all you could manage as you fought the urge to move, every muscle tensed, waiting for him to make the first move, but god was it hard. You couldn't really believe this was happening, until the solid press of his thumb against your clit brought the moment into sharp focus. 

"Aaron, god," you gasped, your hands tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck. Your teeth found your bottom lip harshly, trying not to show him just how easily you could come apart right now.

"Is that good, honey?"

Honey. You could practically feel the arousal dripping your thighs as you nodded eagerly.

The pad of his thumb glided between your folds, gathering the slickness to continue his assault against your swollen clit. You buried your face deeper into his suit jacket, attempting to stifle the embarrassing sounds that you couldn't seem to contain. 

A whine of protest filled the space between you as his hand slipped away from your pants. His eyes bore into you as he gathered the strands at the back of your neck, guiding your gaze to yours. 

"None of that. Let me hear you gorgeous."

"Aaron, please, I need your fingers inside me, please."

You were painfully aware of how ridiculous you sounded, knew that if anyone else was in the office right now, you'd be so screwed, fired probably, but as his fingers dipped into your cunt those concerns dissolved quickly.

"Since you asked so nicely."

He was torturing you--his pace aggravatingly slow, working in and out of you as you tried to fight the overwhelming desire to slam your legs shut. It was so much, yet not enough. You ground yourself against his hands as his other hand clamped around your back, keeping you from falling back.

"That's it, baby, fuck yourself on my fingers."

His eyes were dark, pupils dilated, his chest rising and falling in a way that only seemed to spur you on, doing exactly as he ordered. His words felt foreign in your ears, before today you could never imagine him talking like this, so vulgarly. 

"Aaron, I-I need—," you paused, your eyes falling to his pants, more specifically the hardened cock inside them.

"Yeah? Is that what you want?"

"Yes, fuck, please," you gasped as his fingers hit that one spot just right. Your head lolled back as you clutched at his collar, his arm behind you keeping you in place.

"Watch your mouth," he said, and for some reason that was enough to send you right over that never ending ledge, your stomach coiling, heat spreading under your skin, every part of you ached.

"Oh—, Aaron, I-I'm—," you were a blubbering mess, rocking without mercy against his fingers, his thumb brushing against your nub in a way that made you feel like you had met your maker.

"That's it, baby, go ahead."

That was enough for you, your walls clenching around his fingers, back arching into him and you swore for a minute you could see stars. He helped you ride out your high.

You were wholeheartedly convinced; this was heaven. You had died and gone to heaven and the first one to greet you was Hotch, his hands tracing soothing patterns on your bare skin in an attempt to bring you back down to Earth. 

Just as you were about to reach for his pants, determined to feel him inside of you, his phone went off. Of fucking course. He shot you an apologetic look, the sound a wake-up call, pulling you both from the lust-fueled moment. 

He moved back with a couple steps, offering nods and muted words to whoever was calling at 12 am. You were suddenly extremely aware of your appearance--topless and on the briefing table for crying out loud. 

You attempted to stand, your legs betraying you with a wobble that had him instantly clasping your arm firmly, his attention flickering from the phone to the tremors in your stance. You gave him a small in return as if to say I'm fine.

You reached across the table, grabbing your shirt from its discarded state, not bothering with the bra as you dressed quickly. He cleared his throat, causing you to turn, just in time to see his phone disappear into his pocket.

"That was the Stafford police chief, there was another murder," he explained.

"Oh, right, okay, um..." you started, your brain racing into overdrive as you instinctively moved towards the door. "I just need to..."

Your movement was too quick, a dizzying spin that resulted in you tumbling into Hotch's solid frame. His reflexes were immediate, hands clasping onto you once again, preventing you from landing straight into him.

"Whoa, hey, are you okay?" he asked, brows knitting in a frown, "take a second."

"Yeah, um, yeah, I'm good," you managed to get out, even as heat suffused your face. "Just need to get changed, uh, can't imagine either of us want to the team to find me like this."

"Right."

He was still frowning, and you wanted nothing more than to kiss away the harsh lines of his forehead, but you were sure he wouldn't appreciate the gesture. 

You made a beeline for your office, the door's thud barely registering over pulsating rush in your ears. God, you were so screwed.

taglist: @chronicallybubbly @aremuslupinsimp @sky2nd @thisisdaisytrying @ryswritingrecord

[biteofcherry]

Echo that thunders

Bucky Barnes x female reader

summary: The life you and Bucky built has crumbled. Or so you think. But maybe some ruins can be reconstructed, if true love is given a chance?

warnings: angst; lots of feels; hurt/comfort; divorced couple; mention of past infidelity; marital problems; both Reader and Bucky are self-blaming and self-punishing idiots; and obviously are still deeply in love; they need therapy and I encourage that; reconciling intimacy (yes, I mean sex with feelings and tears); Alpine is almost squeezed to death with love (truly affectionately);

word count: 6k

Author's Note: This is my entry for Eight Types of Love challenge from @the-slumberparty. I took a twist on pragma: exes with feelings.

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Every week the hollow in your chest would ache and you’d try to cram it with sweetness of fleeting moments: catching the pure joy and love on your little boy’s face, mulling your sorrow with pastries that you’d eat alone, then quiet your longing with laughter and shouts of your friends. 

You made it look like it was easy, like you didn’t die a little every damn Friday when you drove your son to his father’s place. 

Maybe you’d feel better if it was the mother missing her baby boy for the weekend, but the wounds opened not for the few days of empty nest, but because seeing Bucky ripped you to pieces. 

You wouldn’t avoid it, though. He loved your son so much, was so happy to spend every possible day with him and you would never take that away from either of them. 

Even if it hurt. 

Truth be told, you wouldn’t let anyone take that away from you, either. Because the pain of seeing Bucky was also sprinkled with that fluttering, bittersweet feeling. Love that you still harbored. 

You didn’t think it was possible to ever stop loving Bucky. 

As you proved, it was possible to divorce him, but it didn’t sever the hold he had on your heart and soul. 

So you welcomed the ache in your chest as an invisible iron fist clenched its cold claws around your heart, when Bucky smiled and waved at you from the sidewalk in front of his building. You knew he waved at your little boy, who was already bouncing in his seat, but you couldn’t help the smile spreading on your lips in return.

“Hi, rascals!” Bucky greeted you, the same way he’s been greeting the both of you ever since your son was born. 

He waited for you to round the car after you parked it, loosely wrapping an arm around your middle and giving you that awkward half-hug. 

You assumed it was as awkward for him as it was for you, though for different reasons.

Bucky was simply nice, trying his hardest to maintain a good rapport with you for the sake of your son, while he had to be repulsed by you inwardly. For you, the hug was difficult, because you always craved to bury yourself within his arms and feel that protective, loving hold. 

“Hi,” you smiled and ducked under his arm, before he noticed that pathetic longing shining in your eyes. 

You went to retrieve a small bag and backpack with Stevie’s clothes and belongings, while Bucky unbuckled your son from the car seat and scooped the boy up in his arms. Joyous squeal “Daddy!” melted you all over again, reminding you how ecstatic the boy was every time Bucky returned home - no matter if he’s been gone a few days on a mission, or just an hour running errands. 

When you turned to them, the sight of them grinning at each other froze you on the spot. You were aware that Stevie shared some of Bucky’s mimics, but it was that moment when your boy pressed his cheek to Bucky’s and they both looked your way with lopsided grins that shattered your heart into pieces. 

You squashed the flare of sorrow inside, saving it for later when you’re alone with a pint of ice cream. 

Bucky had suggested a couple of times that he could come pick Stevie up from your place, but you were too scared of seeing Bucky back in the apartment where you all used to live together. Where the love and happiness were supposed to be forever. 

You were scared he’d come inside and see that you still had a few photographs of him on the shelves. 

You reasoned that it was for the sake of your son, so that he felt his dad’s presence at all times, but you couldn’t fully let go of Bucky yourself. 

“Hey,” Bucky took the bag from your hands, but left you holding Stevie’s backpack. “Can you come upstairs for a second? I wanted to talk something over.”

He always invited you under the pretext of talking over some details regarding Stevie, but ended up dealing with it in two sentences and then coaxing you into a neutral small talk that left you all the more missing him. 

Yet you couldn’t force yourself to say no. 

“Sure.” You nodded, squeezing the strap of the small, red backpack in your trembling fingers. 

Bucky’s apartment, which he got after you filed for divorce, was small, but clean and spacious enough for a four year old and a cat.   

Alpine stuck her head from behind a wall when you entered. She made a tiny meowing sound and walked forward, but the second Bucky put your son on his feet the cat bolted away. Stevie of course followed, running after the furball with glee.

“So I know there’s still plenty of time to plan summer vacation-” Bucky started, leading you toward the counter separating the kitchen from the living room- “but Sam invited us to Louisiana, to spend a few weeks at his sister’s place.”

“Oh.” It was instinctive, that very first thought about your baby boy being away for weeks. In a different state, nonetheless. 

However, you promised yourself to not be an overprotective, controlling mother. And you trusted Bucky with your son at all times. 

“That sounds fun.” You relaxed your shoulders and smiled. “I’m sure Stevie will love it. Especially if you take him on a boat.”

He was in a marine fascination phase. At least once every few weeks you had to go to the aquarium and turn on Discovery channel instead of morning cartoons. 

“Maybe I’ll manage to re-do his bedroom, while he’s away with you,” cogs in your brain started turning. “It’d be a fun surprise when he gets back.” 

“Won’t you need help with that?” Bucky asked, perking up. “We could do that on the weekend when he’s with your parents? You know I’d be happy to help. We can rope Sam into it, too.”

He sounded so eager. For a fleeting moment you enjoyed the warmth at the thought of the two of you doing something for your son together, but you quickly reminded yourself that Bucky would do absolutely anything for Stevie, including dealing with your presence.    

“Umm, sure,” you swallowed nervously, “if you’re not on a mission.”

You regretted saying it, seeing a flash of guilt on Bucky’s face. 

It was a sore subject and bringing it up hurt you both. 

You always admired Bucky for what he did, how much he risked to save others. It didn’t change the fact, however, that saving the world meant neglecting you at times. He tried his best, you knew he did. Still, it hurt when you spent some nights and celebrations alone. 

“We’ve made some changes on the rooster.” Bucky didn’t look at you as he talked, instead focusing on taking out ingredients from the fridge. “It’s doable to book some dates as non-active.”

“That’s good!” You tried to sound genuinely happy for him, while inside you felt a wave of rage that the accommodation wasn’t made when you needed it in the past. “All of you deserve rest and to, you know, live your private lives, too.” 

“Yeah.” Bucky’s shoulders drove up in tension even as he nodded. 

You stayed quiet for a long moment, the sound of your son’s giggles coming from the bedroom where he chased Alpine filled the space, but didn’t ease the sudden heaviness. 

“I better-” you started at the same time that Bucky began:

“Do you want to-”

Both of you paused, but before either motioned at the other to finish, you were interrupted by a pitiful meow and soft paddle of your four year old’s feet.

You both turned and watched your son wobble as he carried Alpine. Though carried was a bit of a stretch to describe two tiny arms tightly wrapped around the upper half of the cat’s body, with its head barely sticking out and two front legs sticking upwards while the rest of the furry body dangled down. 

You quickly covered your mouth to stifle the burst of laughter, but Bucky behind you couldn’t help the snort. 

“Buddy.” He moved around the counter and crouched in front of Stevie. “Alpine knows you love her lots and want to play with her, but this is a bit uncomfortable for her.”

You thought the cat is an actual saint for not having yet scratched Stevie for all the love she was getting from him. 

“Hey!” You chimed in, reaching for the small backpack. “You forgot about the present you have for Alpine.”

“Mousey!” Stevie dropped the cat almost instantly and ran towards you. 

“A present, huh?” Bucky placated Alpine, scratching her behind the ear while she rubbed against his leg. 

“Made it with mommy!” Your son beamed proudly after you fished out the small toy from his backpack. “For artses-” which was his version of saying art classes. “But mommy said it’s perfect for Apine.”

It was a bright blue, slightly askew, crocheted mouse. With a very, very long tail. You thought it would be perfect for Stevie to hold the end of the tail and slide the mouse across the floor, so Alpine could chase it.

“It really is,” Bucky nodded, noticing that the soft toy had caught Alpine’s attention. “Why don’t you run around with it, play nicely with Alpine, while I make us spaghetti?”

Stevie didn’t have to be told twice. Alpine seemed eager for this kind of play, as well. Chasing a new toy surely was more preferable than being squeezed to death. 

Bucky straightened. His tall, broad figure filled your vision. He was much closer now, with no counter separating you. He looked after your son fondly, then his soft gaze switched to you. Not for a second did the affection fade in his eyes as he looked at you. 

“Thank you,” he almost whispered, touching your shoulder gently.

You wanted to blurt out that there was nothing to thank for, but you understood what he meant. The same way you were grateful for his concern whenever you had a cold and he took Stevie so you could rest (bringing you some chicken broth on his way), or that he picked you up when your car died. The small gestures each of you displayed, that betrayed care neither of you seemed to be able to lose. 

Bucky’s hand slowly slid down your arm and because you were so lost in the blue of his eyes and the tenderness of the moment, you forgot to brace yourself for the small sting that his touch brought when he passed your forearm.

You winced. 

Unfortunately, Bucky noticed.

Instantly, he stilled. His hand remained on your forearm, but his touch eased. His gaze flicked from your face to the spot covered by your sleeve and up to your face again. 

“What is it?” Worry pinched his features. “Are you injured?”

He moved even closer, angling his head so he could maintain eye contact with you, even though he towered over you. He gently took your wrist into his metal hand and carefully rolled your sleeve up. 

“It’s nothing. It’s-” 

Words died on your tongue when Bucky’s gaze hardened, a muscle in his jaw twitching, as his gaze landed on the injured spot. 

There were no visible bruises. Not to you, anyway. You mostly felt the tenderness of that area than saw any marks. But Bucky’s senses were enhanced and he definitely could see the difference in the smallest changes of your skin, the barest hint of different pigmentation. 

And, much to your dismay, you could never lie to him. 

“Who did that?” Bucky kept calm, but you sensed the concern bursting into protective rage inside of him. 

“Someone, who is no longer in the picture.” You replied, tilting your chin up. “I may have not expected it happening, but once it did, I wouldn’t chance it repeating.”

The whole attempt at dating was so uncomfortable for you, but seeing some pap pictures of Bucky with an unknown female had made you impulsively agree to the fifth invite from a guy from accountants. 

It was irrational and irresponsible - as some of your past mistakes. There was nothing that suggested Bucky and that woman were connected in any way beside the work area. They weren’t even alone in that place. It’s just that he had his hand on her back and she was giving him a flirtatious smile. 

Well, your jealous brain told you it’s flirtatious. The same brain that forgot to remind you that it was no longer your business if and whom Bucky was dating.

So you went on the stupid date yourself, feeling all kinds of wrong during it. Then got a glimpse of what shit you almost got yourself into, when you wanted to end your date short and the guy called you a tease. His hold on your forearm when you tried to leave was forceful enough to leave a painful reminder. 

“I’d still like to know the name.” Bucky’s gaze shone a dark glint; plates in his metal arm moved in a reflection of muscles tensing. 

“No need.” Placing your free hand on his chest to soothe him was a habit, you didn’t even realize you were doing it. “I promise you, he won’t ever find himself near Stevie.”      

Bucky frowned at that. Suddenly, he was letting go of your arm and cupping the side of your face instead.

“Baby,” it slipped out of his mouth as mindlessly and naturally as you touched him. 

“I know you’d never let anyone hurt our son. But no harm should come your way, either. The guy deserves having his fingers dislocated.”

Bucky wasn’t a violent person. His past, which was beyond his control, painted a certain picture that some people still believed in. But you knew how soft-hearted and kind he really was. He used force and combat in missions, but his teammates knew he would be the first one to show mercy and pull back his punches. 

However, he was protective. And when he entered that mode, he could be very scary. 

Your fingers on his chest clenched slightly, gripping the fabric of his soft, blue henley; as if you were trying to stop him from marching away and finding whoever posed as a threat.

You felt the steady thud of Bucky’s heartbeat beneath your palm, the rhythm of his breath. You sensed the moment his muscles slightly relaxed.

“How about-” hands cupping your face slowly slid down and away, but Bucky didn’t put any distance between you- “you stay for dinner and we’ll talk more about it later?” 

There was nothing to talk about, really. Or maybe there was, but it shouldn’t be Bucky giving you the talk. His concern only messed with your head and your heart, leaving you with incomparable longing and aching solitude when you went back home. 

You opened your mouth to refuse his proposal, but your son suddenly found himself nearby and torpedoed your resilience.

“You gonna stay mommy?” He looked up at you with big, hopeful eyes. 

Bucky and you made sure to be together for important events like Stevie’s birthday, or kindergarten recitals, or even for the 4th of July. But day to day everything happened separately. You didn’t share meals, or walks, or trips the way you used to when you were married. 

You were aware of the impact it had on your son, but one can’t be divorced and still spend every day with each other. 

However, you couldn’t find the strength at the moment to crush your son’s unexpected spark of joy at the prospect of something so simple like spending the afternoon with both of his parents. 

You couldn’t deny your deep, wallowing desire to spend some more time in Bucky’s presence, either. As self-harming as it could be. 

“Um-” you swallowed nervously as you looked down at your little boy. “Yeah- yes, I’ll stay. You know I always liked your daddy’s cooking.” 

Your heart nearly burst when Stevie launched himself forward, wrapping his small arms around yours and Bucky’s legs. Then he was running away, with even more bounce to his skip than before. 

To your relief, Bucky easily switched the topic to casual conversation as you joined him in the kitchen to help prepare dinner. He told you a few latest, funny stories; gushed about a new book series he started reading; asked about your dad’s knee surgery. 

Falling into this comfortable pattern of domesticity with him was too easy. Like you haven’t been living separately for the past year, nursing deeply hidden resentment (which you expected from Bucky) and heartbreak. You knew it would hit you harder when you got back home, step into that silent, empty bedroom, which once upon a time was your nest of safety, laughter and love. 

All of which you blew up. 

You didn’t protest too strongly when Bucky fed your son an extra portion of ice cream after dinner, you were too distracted with your own ache that was spreading its nasty vines over you. 

You played with the melting scoops in your own bowl as Bucky picked up a half-asleep Stevie and carried him to the bedroom. Alpine trotter right after them. From the occasional pictures that Bucky sent you when Stevie was staying at his place, you knew that the cat would jump onto the bed next to your boy and fall asleep with him. 

When Bucky returned and sat beside you on the couch, his presence almost toppled you into a sobbing fit. 

Once upon a time, you’d cuddle on the sofa in your living room and talk for hours, or watch shows, or make out. Even sitting in silence, while Bucky read a book and you browsed social media, was comforting and easy. 

There was nothing easy about it now. Because that desperate need to crawl into his arms and have him chase the sorrows away couldn’t be sated.  

“I’m sorry about earlier.” Bucky’s quiet voice surprised you.

You blinked as you looked at him, slightly confused with what he was talking about.

“I know you’re responsible and very strong. You’re more than capable of looking after yourself and don’t need my meddling in your intimate life.” He said, staring down at some spot and not meeting your eyes. 

The words intimate life sounded as if he almost choked on them.

“I know it’s too late to mend what I fucked up.” He sighed, bowing his head even lower.

Your heart ached, seeing him so resigned.

“James Buchanan Barnes, what the hell are you talking about?!” Instinct to rush to his aid kicked you from your stupor. 

The anger at yourself heightened as once again you saw first hand how much you hurt him. Bucky wasn’t flawless, but he didn’t deserve what you’ve put him through. To know that your actions added to his tendency to self-blame, only made you hate yourself more.

“It was me who fucked everything up.” You countered, setting the bowl on the coffee table with a loud thud. You shifted on the couch, turning your body so that you could face Bucky directly. 

“I broke what we had. I- I broke your heart and you never deserved such awful treatment!”

Neither of you deserved all that pain, but it was on you to take the responsibility for it.  

“I’m not gonna lie, the divorce hurt more than falling off that damn train…” Bucky’s voice quivered with emotion; his fingers shook slightly as he wiped his palms on his thighs.

“Divorce?” You paused, slightly stunned. “I mean, I know it was hard. For both of us. But I knew I needed to set you free after what I’ve done.” 

It was Bucky’s turn to frown, his muscles pinching in a quizzical look as if he didn't understand what you were aiming at, at all. 

“Bucky, I cheated on you!” You hissed loudly, but minding your voice enough to not wake your son.

There it was. The heaviest of truths which triggered the whole domino effect and which both of you avoided naming directly.

But Bucky deserved it - you admitting your faults. There was enough on his shoulders and you couldn’t stand the thought of him taking this burden onto him as well, when it was yours to pay for.

Bucky’s face cleared of confusion, however his frown deepened. 

“What I know is that you were hurt, alone and inebriated. A state some douchebag took advantage of.” There was an undertone of anger in his tone, but not directed at you.

You shook your head in exasperation. 

Leave it to Bucky Barnes to be an understanding, chivalrous knight. It was a wonderful trait, but shouldn’t apply on all occasions, to all people. It definitely should be directed at you. As much as you’d love to follow that reasoning, you had enough self-awareness and responsibility to not go easy on yourself.  

“Being drunk doesn’t excuse what I did.” You stated.

“It wouldn’t, if that was your aim.” Bucky argued. “But tell me, did you go to that bar because you were looking for a hookup? To get back at me?” He rushed with his counter arguments. 

When you tried to turn your head slightly to avoid his gaze, he squeezed your chin between his fingers and gently guided you to look back at him. 

It was hard. To face him when the memories of that awful evening replayed in your head, bringing back a wave of shame and regret. You vomited three days in a row after that night; and only the first half of the first day was due to the alcohol. All the rest was stress and guilt. 

“No, you didn’t.” Bucky continued when you remained silent. 

“You went there, because it was our anniversary and I wasn’t home. I was on a mission. Again,” he sighed regretfully, aware of how his absence weighed down on you. “You went to the bar which we often went to on our dates, before we got married. Probably cursing my ass for absence on another important day and drinking the pain away.”

That was true. Your parents took Stevie for the whole weekend, starting Friday. It was supposed to be a carefree, romantic time for you and Bucky. Even if he would need to just be lazy in bed for an entire day, to recharge after a mission, you still would be together. 

While Bucky returned from one mission, he jumped onto another one right away. He called you to say that he’d be later than he first anticipated, but in the craze of it forgot what date exactly was it. 

You were understanding. Or, well, you tried to be. There was a whole monologue you gave yourself as you paced the floor of your apartment, convincing yourself that your husband was saving someone. So that someone else could return to their family. 

But you still felt bitter and angry that your husband didn’t return to you for something that was supposed to be important to the both of you.

When you went out to that bar, which wasn’t that far from your place, your plan was to have a drink or two and wallow in self-pity. Perhaps to be passive-aggressive, take a picture of yourself all dolled up and send it to Bucky with happy anniversary wishes.

That was it.

Then that man joined you. For a conversation, at first. Two drinks turned into four. Then five. To be honest, at some point his face got a little blurry. He had dark hair, like Bucky. Had his arm wrapped around your middle the way Bucky often did. 

At some point your drunk brain was certain it was Bucky fucking you, not some stranger you just met at the bar.

“I could’ve chosen to stay at home.” You argued, clenching your fingers into fists so hard that your fingernails needled your skin. 

“I could have drunk a bottle or two of wine alone in the safety of our home and sent you angry, slurred messages. Or wait for your return and throw something heavy at your head.” There were so many choices to be made that night. 

“Instead, I made a mess of our lives…” the words fell out of your lips in a broken whisper, your eyes filling with tears.

“And I forgave you.” Bucky said softly as he released your chin. 

“Hell, I don’t even think I was angry with you.” He huffed, running a hand through his hair in a nervous manner. “Oh, I was pissed and hurt!” He gave you a pointed look when you opened your mouth to protest. “I even tracked that man and… well, let’s not talk about things that thankfully didn’t happen once I saw him.” 

“Most of all, I was angry with myself,” Bucky suddenly deflated.

“Why?” You frowned, barely stopping yourself from reaching out to caress his cheek.

“Because I let it happen.” Bucky sighed and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his thighs. “It was my constant absence that started those clouds over our heads. I was so focused on redeeming myself that I took on more missions than I should.”

A part of you wanted to contradict him, to convince him that he wasn’t doing anything wrong. But there was also a part of you that was still resenting him for doing that, for constantly choosing others over you.

“I think I also wanted to feel needed, which is why I joined teams even though they could’ve handled things without my presence.” He shifted again, sitting across the couch with one leg bent, so he could face you fully. 

He was more hesitant as he reached out for you again. Though you didn’t flinch away, he still dropped his hand as he revealed his own guilt:

“I forgot that you needed me, too.”

You still did. But you wouldn’t dare to tell him that.

“What you do is important. You save lives.” You said quietly, but there wasn’t as much heat to it as you’d like to present.

“I didn’t save us.” Bucky’s words opened the gate to the feelings you tried to stifle for many months.

You almost lifted your fist to angrily rub away the tears threatening to spill, but Bucky reached for you faster. His warm palms rested on your fists; he squeezed them gently.

“Baby, I remember when you mentioned therapy.” He admitted, wincing at the memory of signals which he ignored. “You tried to say it so casually, I know you were afraid of telling me directly that you needed me to save our marriage. I dismissed it.” 

“You hate therapy. I didn’t want to force you into it.” There wouldn’t be any point in attending any sessions, if Bucky would stay guarded.

You understood his hesitance, too. The mandatory therapy he went to a few years back was hard for him, not only because of the topics he had to deal with, but he didn’t feel emotionally safe or comfortable with the appointed professional.

“I disliked my assigned therapist.” Bucky pointed out, with a slight eye roll. “There are hundreds of therapists in this city. I’m sure there’s at least one that I could connect with.” Suddenly, he shook his head. “Or hell with how much I like a therapist, it should be about me connecting with you!”  

He let go of your hands and cupped your face instead.

“I wonder-” he leaned forward, closing the distance between you. “I’ve been wondering, if I didn’t fuck up by signing those divorce papers so easily.”

He did it without much questioning. Which only strengthened your notion that he was repulsed by you and couldn’t wait to be as far from you as possible. You didn’t blame him.

“I understood that. After what I’ve done.” You whispered. 

A single tear rolled down your cheek, stopping on Bucky’s thumb. 

“I couldn’t look you in the eye, because I was so ashamed. I wanted to give you a chance to find someone worthy of you.” More tears flowed.

Bucky tenderly wiped them away.

“I don’t think I’m worth a single hair on your pretty head.” He said, resting his forehead against yours. “I signed those papers, because I thought you were going to find happiness with someone else. That you wanted to build a life with someone else.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.” You would shake your head, if Bucky wasn’t holding you in place.

If his hold didn’t feel so overwhelmingly wonderful.

“Why not?” Bucky asked, incredulously. “You’re the most amazing, kind, smart, beautiful-” 

“Because I’m in love with you.” You blurted out.

Your eyes widened when you realized what you said. Scorching shame mixed with a sudden wave of cold fear as Bucky slowly pulled away and stared at you in shock. 

He was still cupping your face, though.

“Say that again, baby?” Bucky’s tone was a whisper, like he was afraid he’d burst some magical bubble if he moved or spoke louder. “Please,” he squeezed your cheeks slightly.

Maybe the best choice would be to take those words back. Or to start listing all the arguments to why it didn’t matter. But you couldn’t lie to Bucky. You never could. Especially not when he was looking at you with those beautiful blue eyes, filled with hope.

“I love you, Bucky,” you confessed. “I never stopped loving you.”

Tears streaming down your face were warm, but they felt much colder when compared to the warmth of Bucky’s lips on yours. 

He kissed you with reverence and despair, like the first gulp of breath after drowning in murky waters for much too long. There was nothing but his closeness, beckoning you like a flare in the darkness. You followed the coaxing of his lips, the unspoken vows he sealed with his mouth. 

You weren’t even fully aware of your body moving, yielding to Bucky’s smooth maneuvers. Until the full weight of him rested on top of you. 

He provided both that shield of safety and heavy temptation that had your legs spreading to accommodate him.

“I never stopped, either.” Bucky croaked out as he broke the kiss; his lips still brushed against yours as he spoke.

“I love you so much. So much, baby.” It crushed your heart to see his own cheeks glistening with tears. “Please, can we try again? Let me mend it. Please.” He begged.

Bucky sounded so helpless and so hopeful at the same time. If your heart was set in cold stone, it would still shatter for him like a fragile glass. 

“I should be the one mending it,” you pressed your fingertips to his cheek.

“Us. We’re going to do this together,” he briefly closed his eyes, leaning into your touch. 

“Always together,” you agreed and tipped your lips upwards, tempting Bucky into another kiss. 

Months of distance surely added fuel to the fire of need, but Bucky’s touch always had the power to ignite your desire. Him being on top of you, the kiss deepening, his hand traveling down your side - your body responded instantly. 

You wrapped your arms around him; one hand combing through his hair, the other mapping his broad back. Your legs were already spread to accommodate his hips between yours, but as Bucky continued to kiss and touch you, your knees drew up higher and your hips rolled against him.

Bucky’s responding grinding was most welcome, but he suddenly froze. 

“Baby,” he groaned, almost in pain. “I don’t want to ruin the moment, but if you keep doing that I’m going to lose it.”

“Need you,” you whined. 

You grabbed a fistful of his hair and slipped your other hand beneath his blue henley. You bit your bottom lip as you looked at him and rocked your hips into his once again.

“Need to feel you!” 

For months you were deprived of any intimate touch, somehow not in the mood to even give yourself a release with your pitiful toys. To even think of anyone beside Bucky ever touching you like that made you nauseous. And you missed it so much!

Missed the way Bucky played your body. The way he felt inside of you. 

“Bucky, please!” There was urgency in your tone that made Bucky snap to attention.

His gaze held yours for a moment longer, as if assessing that you were as sure as you sounded. A glint brightened his steel blue eyes and he swiped his tongue over his bottom lip in the most sensual way. That had your clit pulsing wildly. 

“You always beg so prettily,” he murmured against your skin as began chaining kisses along your jawline. “I’ve got you, baby.”

Bucky braced his weight on his metal arm as he used his other hand to pull up the layers of your tulle skirt. You shivered, nipples pebbling, as his touch shifted to the inside of your thigh and wandered upwards. 

He pressed the pads of his fingers against your throbbing clit, finding your panties already damp. It wasn’t a novelty how quickly your body responded to Bucky’s ministrations, but it seemed that longing for him sped up the process. 

Bucky swallowed your moan in a messy kiss as he pressed harder on your nub. While you loved the way he sometimes drew this pleasure out, how long he could spend just fingering and licking you, it wasn’t what you needed at the moment. 

You dropped both of your hands to his hips then slid them between your bodies to fumble with Bucky’s zipper.

“Fuck!” He cursed, dropping more of his weight onto you when you freed his cock out and wrapped your fingers around him. 

“I’m afraid I won’t last long this time,” he groaned, tugging the fabric of your panties aside. “I’ll make it up to you, baby, I promise. But, fuck, it’s been so long since I felt you-”

“Uh-huh,” you nodded fervently, not really listening to him. 

All your focus was on that throbbing need that spiked even higher as you guided the tip of Bucky’s cock inside you. 

It was everything - the stretch of his girth spearing through your neglected pussy, his scent and warmth, his mouth sucking on your neck, his moan at the feel of your tight walls gripping him - that had your body seizing in the most rushed climax. Already, while he was barely halfway in. 

You dug your fingernails into Bucky’s hips as your legs shook; your upper half curling up, face buried in the crook of Bucky’s neck to muffle your cries of pleasure. Your walls clenched so hard it was almost painful, then fluttered in a crescendo of aftershocks. 

“Sorry, sorry,” you babbled, falling onto your back and squirming as the orgasm continued to tingle in every part of your body.

“Sorry?” Bucky choked on breath. “My girl cumming for me so fast is an ego boost beyond any other,” he chuckled. 

He always had the ability to make you fall apart rather quickly, but that was a new record. Provided by suppressed sexual tension and emotional connection you were deprived of for so long. 

“Don’t worry, baby,” Bucky cooed as he continued to slide into your fluttering cunt, “I’ll give you more.” 

He shifted his hand, so that his thumb brushed over your swollen clit. He moved with no rush, but each of his thrusts was deep, nearly painfully so. As if Bucky sought more of that connection; needed it as fiercely as you. 

As promised, he made you cum again. Then shuddered within your embrace as he followed you over the edge. And though your heart was thundering in your chest from the exertion, it was the first time you felt complete and at peace since a very long time. 

You welcomed Bucky’s full weight as you laid spent, your hands drawing soothing patterns on his back. His cock was still nestled inside of you; neither of you wanted to lose that intimate connection too soon. You rested, listening to each other’s breathing and soaking in the comfort of being together. 

When Bucky fucked you again a while later, it was more languid and sensual. He made breathless vows of love, curling his metal fingers around your throat and squeezing just enough to spill more of your warm tears. He confessed his need for you in his life as he increased his pace, tilting your ass with his other hand, so he could spill deeper inside of you. 

In the morning, as he woke up early with the intention of going to the bakery and getting fresh treats for your family breakfast, there was so much brightness in Bucky’s eyes. So much love and happiness, like on the day your son was born.

As you looked at your own reflection in the mirror in his bathroom, you saw the same spark in your own eyes. 

[settingmyheartablaze]

happy

sanemi x reader

thought I would write a little part two to my previous sanemi fic, as you guys seemed to really like it!!

tag list: @chromateclipse @spellboundead10 @cupcaketeddybehr @jjkamochoso

part one

———————————————————————————

With an arm outstretched you silently leaned forward from your bed, your fingers squirming to grasp the crutches that leaned against the wall.

It had been nearly ten days since you’d woken up in the butterfly estate, your body battered and in shambles from your encounter with a demon. You had a broken leg, a deep wound in your shoulder, scratches and bruises from head to toe that were finally starting to fade, and on top of it all a traumatized husband who loomed over your every move demanding bedrest morning, noon, and night.

You adored him for his worry, eternally grateful that he got you everything you asked (and all the things you didn’t even have to ask for). But even with such pampering, you were at the brink of insanity from your cabin fever. All you wanted was to take a saunter around the estate, maybe get some fresh air — and you wanted to do it yourself.

You knew that if you had even opened your mouth to say the word, he’d be there scooping you up and taking you to your favorite spot beneath the blossoming trees. However, you also knew that he was exhausted.

Despite how well Sanemi thought he hid them, you didn’t miss the bags under his eyes growing a more potent violet with each passing day. He spent every minute he had fussing over you. When you begged him to take a break and rest, he outright refused.

I’ll rest when you’re better, he’d say with a finality firmer than death.

Now, it seemed he’d been called away to discuss some reconstruction on the estate (or what was left of it), and he’d assured you he’d be back in no more than an hour. Considering it had taken you at least thirty minutes to even sit upright to the edge of the bed, you were running short on time. You knew he’d be furious to see you trying to stand without aid, or even trying to stand at all, but you needed to try for his sake and yours.

You could practically see the guilt coiling around his neck like a viper, ashamed that he was late to find you that night. You had reassured him until you were blue in the face that he was your hero and did everything he could, but you could see his heart was broken that it happened in the first place. In the fleeting moments that you caught him asleep, it lasted no more than a minute before he jolted awake in alarm, likely reliving the night each time the moon appeared. You’d do anything to see him start to heal from it all, which meant you needed to get back to normal as soon as possible.

Therefore, step one of your plan was reaching those damn crutches.

After another failed attempt, you gripped the edge of the bed with a deep breath, steadying yourself for one more lunge. You leaned again, stretching as far as you could and to your elation, you were just a centimeter from it —

Right as you went for the handle, it was swiped away faster than you could blink. Its unexpected absence nearly made you topple off the bed with a yelp, but not before a strong arm snaked around your waist to catch you.

You didn’t even look up from the floor, your hair fanning around your face in defeat and shielding your sight from the less than pleased husband that held you.

“Funny, I don’t remember you having somewhere to be,” Sanemi said dryly. After placing you down gently back on the bed, he walked the crutches across the room and you reached out in defeat at the now six foot chasm between you and your freedom.

He turned to you with his arms crossed over his chest, and you could see him trying his hardest to look upset with you. Despite the scowl on his face, the gentle tone of his voice gave away his immovable soft spot. “You know you can’t be up and walking by yourself.”

“Says who?” You said stiffly, picking at the threads of your blanket.

“Your broken leg.” He walked over to crouch in front of you with a sigh, taking your hand in his to press a kiss to your knuckles. “We’re only being strict so you’ll get better soon.”

“Weren’t you supposed to be out for an hour anyway,” you grumbled in defeat.

Sanemi scoffed.

“You’re not as slick as you think.” He pinched your nose, and you scrunched up with a smile as his head gestured towards the crutches. “I saw you staring those down before I even left the room.”

“But the sooner I try, the sooner I get better, right?” Your voice was soft, hopeful. After all, you hadn’t exactly been made any promises of a full recovery, and you knew the possibility lingered over the both of you like a storm.

Sanemi did well to mask his apprehension around you, giving nothing but soft whispers of assurance that he didn’t have a doubt in his mind (you knew he was full of it).

Before he could reply, a light voice interrupted in a wry tone.

“In theory, yes. However, I have a sneaky suspicion that if you tried now, you’d overdo it and make yourself worse.” Shinobu glided over, now standing beside Sanemi to aid in his scolding.

You slumped, your cheeks puffing in discontempt as you mumbled in reply. “Some would call it motivated.”

“I take it we had another jailbreak attempt?” Shinobu turned, addressing your husband who gave a nod of dissaproval.

“Maybe I’d have been successful if someone hadn’t snatched it up,” You quipped.

“Or maybe you’d have fallen right on your ass.” Sanemi’s reply was dry, his familiar attitude rearing its head. Much to his distress, you had one just as foul when you were stubborn.

“Guess we’ll have to find out!” Your arms crossed over your chest impudently.

“Or, how about a compromise?” Shinobu cut off the bickering between the two of you with her question, and you turned to look at her as she continued. “I presume your preparations are finished, Shinazugawa?”

He nodded in reply, and your head cocked in confusion. You looked at your husband with a press on your brows. “Preparations? What does she mean?”

Shinobu turned to the entryway where Naho, Kiyo, and Sumo stood excitedly watching. At her cue, the three girls took off giggling down the hallway.

Sanemi interjected, his words teasing, but failing to hide the warmth they held. “If you had just waited one hour for me to come back, maybe you’d have been more excited to hear you’re going home today.”

Your mouth hung open in disbelief as your eyes swelled. You gripped his hand tightly. “You mean it?”

He nodded again with a soft smile, and your upper lip began to quiver.

“That’s if you promise to adhere to our conditions.” Shinobu said firmly.

You nodded fiercely in reply. “Anything!”

“I’ll need to see you three times a week minimum, to make sure you’re still on track, and after I decide you’ve settled enough, we’ll begin your rehabilitation. It will be a slow process, but it’s important you don’t overdo it — it’ll only further delay your progress.”

You drank in her words, eagerly replying. “I understand.”

“You’ll also need to be very diligent about your medicine and taking them on time — even the one you despise.”

A grimace soured your expression, the ghost of its flavor still haunting your tongue. “I can agree to that.”

“Lastly, no more attempts at walking. If I hear of so much as a single step being taken outside of your rehab, you’ll find yourself right back in this bed. Am I clear?” She asked.

You picked at your nails meekly in submission. “I suppose, but how will I be able to get around?”

As if on cue, the returning giggles and shouts of the butterfly girls could be heard rounding the corner, and sure enough Sumi and Naho barreled round the corner pushing a wheelchair where Kiyo sat laughing away.

“Ta-da!” They all squealed in unison.

Your eyes widened in surprise. “This is for me?”

Shinobu gave a satisfied mhm-hm. “Made just to order, by your own husband in fact.”

You turned to him, tears beginning to well in your eyes. “Since when could you build woodworks?”

“Since you needed me to.” His hand slid up your calf gently, a habit he’d developed of soothing you when your emotions got the better of you.

You were tempted to break the rules before even leaving your hospital bed if it meant you could leap into his arms.

“Sanemi…” You sniffed, squeezing his hand tightly.

“Why don’t we get you dressed, angel? It’s time to go home.”

You could hardly contain your excitement as Sanemi pushed your chair along the path towards your estate, your mind abuzz with the mere thought of being back inn the comforts of home. You knew the path you two travelled like the back of your hand. It would be seconds before you rounded the corner to the entrance of the estate.

You knew it would likely be different in the wake of its — alterations, but even a single plank of what remained would be enough — it was still home, and you had the only thing in it that mattered carting you down the road.

You were curious to see what would be left, and then a thought occurred to you. You turned your head back to peek up at your husband with a teasing grin on your face.

“You’re quite the little liar, you know. I really believed you when you said you were going to work on rennovations.”

“I prefer thinking of it as surprising, rather than lying to my wife. And it wasn’t a total lie, I have been overseeing some work on the damages.”

“Overseeing?”

You were too distracted now by your husbands words to realize you’d passed through the gate, and it was the elated holler of a familiar warm voice that snapped your head over to its direction.

“She’s home! Y/N is home!” Genya’s glee was heard all the way up from his place on the roof where he seemed to be in the middle of hammering away at some shingles. As he scrambled down the ladder beside him, four more familiar face poked out of the front doors.

“Mrs. Shinazugawa!” Tanjiro greeted you with a wide smile, bounding towards you with Zenitsu, Inosuke and Nezuko in tow.

Now the five young ones were practically charging for you, and Genya had made quick work of sprinting to the front of the pack. As he reached his arms out to tackle you into a hug, he was abruptly stopped by Sanemi’s rough arm forming a formidable barrier in front of you. Genya looked as if the wind had been knocked right out of him and everyone gasped in shock at Sanemi’s instantaneous reaction.

“No roughhousing her,” He warned with a low growl.

Genya tried to cavalierly straighten himself out, but there was no hiding the scarlet that overtook his face in embarrassment. He bowed sharply. “Of course, sorry Aniki!”

“Oh hush, Sanemi. I’m not made of glass.” You held you arms out for Genya with a smile as Sanemi mumbled that you may as well be as far as he was concerned.

Genya hugged you gently, and you could feel the slight tremble in his arms. “I’m so glad you’re home, I was so worried…” He said softly.”

“Well I wasn’t worried one bit — not with such strong, fine slayers looking after me.” You reached a hand up to stroke his cheek, something deep and maternal thrumming inside you. You couldn’t imagine how frightened he’d been hearing the crow’s call of distress — he was only still a boy, and it made you sick to think that for a brief moment, he was afraid he’d lose his family twice.

Phase two of getting both of my boys back in shape — cheer them up.

“Well, now I’m certainly going to need a tour of all your hard work. It looks incredible!”

Genya nodded excitedly, asking his brother if he could take over steering to show you around. Sanemi agreed, claiming he was going to go to the market for the ingredients needed for dinner. With a kiss to your crown and a warning to everyone around you that if a hair on your head was harmed they’d be buried under the house, he was off.

Genya took you through each wing of the estate, the rest of his friends proudly trailing along and presenting each room with showmanship. You gave no less enthusiasm than each room before the last, cheering and clapping with amazed coos. It really did look amazing, and you had no idea when or where they learned to be little architects so quickly.

“I lived in a small cottage in the mountains, so I did a lot of the repairs for the family with the village being too far in the snow,” Tanjiro said warmly in explanation.

You’d all made your way to the kitchen, and it seemed in the time that passed Sanemi had already returned and was setting out all the necessary ingredients. Your eyes widened in shock.

“Do my eyes deceive me, or is my husband about to cook?”

It wasn’t because your husband wasn’t willing — he’d do anything you would ask of him and more. But after the three fires that had to be put out when we went near a pot, you quickly realized why he was better off with a sword. Not that you minded one bit, you were more than happy to do all the cooking and tending to the estate.

It seemed Sanemi knew the outlandish nature of your question as well, and he scoffed.

“Not quite, I’m just the delivery runner.” He haphazardly waved, giving the most respectful addressing to Tanjiro you’d seen so far. “Got what you asked for, brat.”

You turned to Tanjiro in surprise, fighting the tears watering up in your eyes. “You’re going to cook for me?”

He laughed with a blush tinting his cheeks. “We all are! Shinazugawa-san said pork katsu is your favorite!” The other gigged in agreement, scurrying around to the kitchen and listening to Tanjiro delegate their chores (most of them, at least — Inosuke was already stoking the fire too high as Zenitsu shrieked at him).

“You’re going to burn it all down before we even finish!” He hollered, smacking Inosuke upside the ahead. Nezuko stood beside her brother and Genya, happily humming and handing them vegetables to chop.

The sight of at all made your chest tight — it wasn’t often you got to see kids being kids, and you couldn’t recall if you ever got to see such a view in the estate. It seemed the incident had brought Sanemi and Genya closer, as they’d been miraculously improving about their interactions. You really couldn’t even believe they were there at the same time, let alone for extended periods and Genya bringing his friends. Even with the way your husband barked and fussed at them to hold their knives properly and watch the flames, you didn’t miss the affection in his demands. He’d never admit it, but you knew how happy it made him to see his little brother happy and at home, safe.

Despite the horrors of what happened, you wouldn’t trade it for anything if it gave you this moment.

The smile on your face must have been bright, as your husband came over and knelt in front of you with a matching one — softer, but unmistakable. “Are you happy?” He asked softly.

You were broken, bruised, and might never walk again. But none of that seemed to matter right now. Not when the lights were on, the air was warm and thick with a delicious meal, and the air was filled with laughter.

You nodded, bringing your hands up to cup his face and press a gentle kiss to his lips. “I don’t know if I’ve ever been happier.”

[tantei-chan01]

Animals Continued

Xxxxx

Once the World Tour is taken care of, with the rock trolls agreeing to help with the damages, the rest of the tribes return to their respective territories. There's just one issue, the wild life have gotten bolder.

Since the attack, many of their defenses have been destroyed, causing the local wildlife to get closer to the residents. There haven't been any attacks, but it does make the citizens nervous.

Techno trolls have sharks, eels, and large squid that are their natural predators. It's also the time of year for the giant mana ray migration, so they need to figure out a way to redirect them without their tech.

The Classical trolls have large preditory birds to worry about, and they're having trouble getting their eighth goats under control.

The Country trolls have many poisoness animals in the desert. Their cattle have been scared off so many times that they won't get close to the town.

The Funk trolls have to stay grounded until repairs are done on the ship, since they haven't been on the ground for so long, they're not quite sure how to deal with many of the creatures.

The Rock trolls also have a problem, with so many of the citizens in different territories to help with repairs. They've neglected their own issues with the lava crocs and boulder buzzards.

When Poppy learns of this, she sends in the one troll who can help them.

Enter Branch.

At first, Branch was a little apprehensive to leave the village, they still have some repairs to do, and it's mating season for the puffalo. The Snack Pack tell him that they can handle the reconstruction and Milton can help with the puffalo. So he packs up his bags and starts heading toward the other tribes.

Xxx

Branch spends a month in each tribe to do his job. He tackles the predators first, spending two weeks studying their habits and memorizing their sounds. Once he finds a pattern in the communication or an exploitable weakness, he makes a strategy and collaborates with the other trolls on how to best go through it. Some animals he was able to convince to move areas, others he had no choice but use force.

Once the predators are taken care of, he gets to the domestic animals. Like before, he memorizes the habits and sounds. Once he has a form of communication going, he'll ask them what they need. He then relays the message to the trolls, and they start making accommodations.

The other tribes notice how their pets and livestock seem much calmer around the once gray troll. Even the more temperamental of their creature become putty in his hands. Many have called him the 'Animal Whisperer', and the more romantic types call him an Angel.

To say thanks for helping them, each tribe gives him an animal.

Techno gave him a Low beat Turtle, similar to Suki's bugs, the have a turntable on their back. They can move on land and can create a low vibration sound that has a calming effect.

Classical gave him three eighth goats as they do better in a herd than by themselves. Their wool is fluffy and warm, making incredible blankets, pillows, and sweaters. They also have a melodious bleat.

Country gave him a dairy Bluegrass Buffalo, they're a sandy blue color cow. They make a delicious and nutritious milk and are very gentle.

Funk gave him a snug-a-lug since Branch can talk to them. He can figure out how to hug it without multiplying. And yes, Branch can make that cute little warble it does.

Rock gave him a Lava Snake, they vary in color from dark red to an ashy gray. Their hide is very tough while their underbelly is quite soft. They can withstand extremely high temperatures, and their skin can be melted to create many things once they shed. The young one likes to sleep in the fireplace.

The animals in Pop village take them under their tutelage to become Branch's bodyguards, unbeknownst to him.

[randybutternubber]

BABY HUNTER @local-gemstone-lover @teastarfall since I know you’ll want to see this and @keikoyume since my design was inspired from yours. He’s supposed to be wearing his raccoon skin cap but I FORGORRR

Basically, the hunter was a child soldier. This was inspired from a few theories that the hunter was a war veteran, the much older theory that LN is a post WWII world, and an old piece of fan art of six hiding beneath a trench wall with a soldier right above her. Outside of LN, he’s also inspired by the boy from a manwha called The Horizion and Atari from Isle Of Dogs

Most stories and characters in LN tend to involve themes of things that scare children. I chose war- it’s indiscriminately violent, near impossible to control, and often impacts children.

Edit: I forgot to mention, there is also a song that plays from the TVs in the pale city called “scout whistle” which has a very military march type vibe while also still having a very playful like tune to it, which was also an inspiration- plus the raccoon skin cap is referred to as the “scout cap”

(Note: none of this is intended to demonize amputees or people with facial disfigurements. It’s inspired off of WWII facial prosthetics and limbs which were very unique and a huge step in helping veterans)

Basically, the hunter was taken to the nowhere at a young age. He spent a few years at a military training school. Older children at the school tended to have a lot of mannequin and porcelain doll/bully like parts, basically they were being slowly replaced.

He tried to escape with a few other kids. While running through a field, the child next to him stepped on a land mine, instantly killing them and severely injuring the hunter, who’s left side was basically screwed. He was taken back to the school after. (let’s just pretend it lines up with his burlap eye hole, I forgot what side it was on 😭)

He got a prosthetic arm, although it was quite uncomfortable and pretty stiff along with being very heavy (very different from actual prosthetics as he can actually control quite a bit of it since it’s more similar to whatever animates the mannequins)

Once he recovered somewhat, he escaped and ended up in the wilderness where he kind of went a bit nutty because of the lack of people and used taxidermy and alcohol as a way to cope. Imagine waking up every day to noise and other people next to you, not having a moment to yourself for YEARS and then all the sudden, that’s all gone. It’s so quiet you can hear your own heartbeat when before you could barely hear yourself talk. That was incredibly hard for him to adjust to, although he grew to prefer solitude and sees things like TVS and most other people as intruders who are encroaching onto his home.

Years later, the doctor would give him a new prosthetic arm (since the old one would obviously be too small) and do facial reconstruction surgery on him as the initial treatment and the way that the hunter was taking care of that side of his face wasn’t a long term solution. Without the mask, he basically looks like Keikoyume’s hunter.

As an adult, quite a few parts of him are taxidermy. He only started wearing the bag over his head once he started to make his… “family” out of people he shot and stuffed.

Poor guy

I wrote this on mobile multiple times because of accidentally deleted it so that’s why the grammar is ass

[runningfrom2am]

requiem // part three

summary: according to coriolanus snow, his best friend had the most beautiful voice in all of panem. she had been training her whole life constantly to get where she was; being up for a residency at the most elite opera house in all of panem. singing was her passion. her true love; and when that got stripped from her in a second, his world became a whole lot quieter. he loathed every minute of it.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.5k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: opera singer!mentor!reader (blink and you'll miss it), she's kind of a prodigy!! p cool imo, mute!reader, bestfriend!coryo, friends to lovers trope ooo, mentions of graphic violence early on (particularly the prologue) but after that it's pretty safe, depictions of ptsd/trauma, mental illness and minor suicidal ideation but at least she's not entirely alone, descriptions of minor medical treatments and use of medication.

a/n: guys me and bestie got tickets to sabrina's tour and we are SO excited- we're making our outfits and we're putting in the WORK on rhinestoning those i'll keep yall updated

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist // pinterest board

By the morning, you were in a much better mood. You woke up early, earlier than usual, and you'd be lying if you said you weren't excited to finally go home. You spent the night crying over the fact that you would very likely be stuck like this, but all you had left this morning was acceptance. It would be nice to finally sleep in your own bed again.

You had cleaned up all the dead flowers, and packed all your notes into a folder by the time the sun made its way into the sky, and your parents arrived shortly after that to pick you up.

They tried to be nice, they really, truly did, but they were disappointed in you. You could see it and feel it in the tense silence that always surrounded the three of you during their "visits". It was awkward, and there was nothing you could do to fill the quiet room.

"Are you ready to go?" Your mother asks, helping gather your bags packed full of clothes and books that remained untouched. You nod, smiling hopefully at her. You follow her out to the hall and down the stairs.

"There's really nothing you can do? You can't operate again?" You hear your father's voice before you see him, and you really wish you hadn't.

"No, I'm sorry, sir. her vocal chords have been reconstructed to the best of our ability, operating again would do more harm than good. It would retraumatize the area and could result in more complications, it would be a miracle if that would even help her voice." The doctor replies. "Her voice may come back naturally, but only time will tell."

You hear your dad sigh as you round the corner, and he smiles at you sadly. "Let's get you home, okay?" He says, placing a hand on your shoulder and taking your bag from you, leading you out to the car.

You walk into your mother's library later that afternoon, a notebook in your hands. You knock gently on the door frame to notify her of your presence. "Yes, dear?" She asks, not looking up from her book. You huff, knocking on the door again and waving to grab her attention.

She looks up this time, realization flashing in her eyes. "Oh, gosh, sorry. I thought you were your father." Lies. "What do you need? You should be resting."

You hold up the notepad in your hands with the prewritten note. 'can you call coryo?'

She takes a moment to read it, brows furrowed. "Coriolanus? You just got home, give him a day off from babysitting you. He probably needs a break."

You frown, quickly flipping the page and writing again.

'he's not babysitting me. we're friends.'

"I understand he's your friend, but sometimes even the best of friends need a break from each other."

You roll your eyes. If you could groan you would. If you could call him yourself, you would.

'I'm 18, if I want to invite my friend over I will. I don't need permission anymore.'

Your mom chuckles, shaking her head as she reads the large print of your note. "Except now, you do. Don't you?"

The best you can do to express your frustration beyond how it shows on your face is to stomp your foot on the ground like a little kid before storming off down the hall. It was all you could do. You would try the same routine with your father.

It didn't work on him either, not that you were surprised. They didn't want company on the day you came home, but that didn't mean they actually wanted to spend time with you apparently.

You holed up in your bedroom, put on your music, and laid in bed staring at the ceiling.

It felt like hours before someone came to free you from your own mind, the silent prayers that you would be able to open your mouth and make a single sound. That didn't mean you had been brave enough to even try yet, though, until there was a knock on the door.

You tried your luck, attempting to call out a quick 'come in!', but nothing came from it besides a scraping pain in the back of your throat. You sigh, rubbing your neck gently in a poor attempt to make the pain go away as you crawl out of bed and go to the door, pulling it open with a scowl on your face.

It settles only slightly when you're met with a member of your family's staff standing there holding out a small, delicate vase containing three roses.

You stare at each other, neither of you able to speak a single word as you take the flowers from her hands. She was a young girl with dark hair, and she had been in your home for a year. You didn't know which District she had come from- it wasn't like she could have given you an answer if you asked. The removal of her tongue ensured that fact.

Occasionally you had wondered what each member of your staff had done to earn their fates, but you liked to theorize. Until now, that is, because the fate you were sentenced to is all but the same, and you had done nothing wrong.

Her eyes widen slightly for just a moment as she looks at the scarred skin across your neck, and then quickly back up to meet your eyes.

Her lips part as if to speak, and you tilt your head slightly at her until she quickly shuts her mouth again. You can see her struggle a bit to swallow as she just gives you a small nod, handing you the card that accompanied the flowers before turning to shuffle back down the hall.

After shutting the door and placing the flowers on your windowsill, you carefully unfold the small envelope and read its contents.

'Something to brighten up your room.

Welcome home.

-Coryo'

Graduation and the accompanying gala were within a week of your return home. You're eternally grateful you spent the time to pick out your dresses months in advance, because if you hadn't, you were sure you wouldn't have gone at all.

Standing behind the stage, your eyes continue to focus over and over again on Coryo in his spot in line. It was much preferred to look out at the audience or on the stage as your other classmates were handed their diplomas and posing for pictures for just a moment before exiting on the other side of the stage.

You had missed the rehearsals while you were in the hospital, so really you were just about to wing it- but still, you didn't want to watch anymore.

You dreaded the silence that would come along with your name being called. Well, silence would be preferable to the exaggerated cheers that were more likely to follow- everyone celebrating your mere act of survival after the school spent weeks scrambling to find someone else to sing the anthem at the beginning of the ceremony.

So looking to your best friend was all you could do to calm the blooming anxiety, cursing the alphabetical organization by last name that kept you apart for the moment.

Then it was your turn that came all too quickly.

You look at him again and he smiles at you, which you return with the fake one you were building for the sake of all the photos about to be taken of you as your heels click across the stage. The cheers that block out the sound while you keep your eyes ahead almost make you want to keel over and vomit right on the black flooring of the stage.

Is it possible for cheers to be full of pity? For an applause to be so... sad?

You'd been on the receiving end of countless rounds of applause before, but none had ever made you so embarrassed.

With flushed cheeks and a performative grin, you shake Dean Highbottom's hand.

"Congratulations." He says, and something behind his eyes for just a moment shows that he is not immune to the infectious pity spreading through the audience. He had never shown much emotion before, and if you weren't so close to him right now, you definitely wouldn't have picked it up at all. "We're happy you're here."

All you can do is nod, swallowing and attempting at a grateful smile as you take your diploma from him in the small red, leather folder.

Holding it up and turning to face the audience, you tilt your head with your signature smile for a beat to give your family (or any reporters interested in your recovery and story) time to take their photos before holding the folder to your chest and taking a small bow.

You allow yourself to pretend that you're okay for just that moment. That this was the end of one of your performances, and for just that one moment with your head down, you could block out the pity that came along with the standing ovation you were now receiving.

You were used to it.

But this isn't at all what you expected your final bow to be. And it hurt.

"Congratulations, Miss." Coryo's voice behind you in the crowd makes you smile, and you turn around to face him.

You roll your eyes with a fond smile on your face, doing the best you can to return the sentiment by poking him in the chest over his red gown a couple of times before pulling him into a hug.

He returns it and you feel his chest move as he laughs, gently rubbing your back before reluctantly pulling away. "Hey, where are your parents?" He asks, looking around the crowded front steps of the academy crowded with other students and their families waiting for rides to the gala.

You thought it was a poor choice in words, calling the graduation after party and dance a "gala" when in fact it wasn't one at all. Where you performed was a gala. Or, where you were supposed to be performing. In your mind it was anyway. Maybe you had it backwards.

You stare at Coryo, waiting for him to look back at you again before you're able to try and explain.

"They left." You mouth out, once his attention was back on you. "Work."

"They left?" Coryo asks, brow furrowing slightly as you nod in confirmation. "They're not coming for the dinner?"

You shake your head. "Busy."

"Well, you're stuck with me then." He smiles, nodding for you to follow after him.

When you walk up to his cousin, Tigris, the only person who was able to come for his sake, you realize you may just make up the saddest and loneliest table at the whole event. All your classmates had at least their parents, but most also had extended family members and friends as well. Crowded tables, loud chatting, lots to say and lots to celebrate. You had... less of that. Less talking, in particular.

And once again, you were right.

You tried to enjoy your dinner while many people went out of their way to come and pat you on the back and congratulate you on your graduation- and it just felt patronizing.

Coryo watched it all go down from the seat across from you at the table, staring at classmates and parents as they stopped to talk to you, knowing damn well you wouldn't respond. He hated every minute of it.

The frustration burned behind your eyes like a freshly struck match every time someone tapped your shoulder over the beautiful graduation dress you had asked for his opinion on months ago, the very same one that matched the rose pinned to the lapel of his jacket.

'Why couldn't they comment on that instead? Say you looked beautiful? Or say nothing at all?' He thought.

You couldn't even do a thing about it besides giving people awkward tight-lipped smiles and fake appreciative nods.

"Have you seen the state of her?" Livia says to her friends as you're walking by, and instinctively you drop your head. "I mean, it looks so bad, I'm surprised she would ever show her face in public again."

Coryo's arm that's linked with yours tightens its grip, and he has to be the one to look over.

"Wait, Coriolanus, you were there, were you not?" Persephone grabs his attention when she notices the two of you walking by.

The two of you freeze, sharing a look. Both roughly translating to "Are they fucking serious?"

He clears his throat. "Excuse me? Do you have absolutely no manners at all, I really do not think that-" His gaze flicks between you and the girls from your class as he speaks, preparing to scold them for being so incredulously rude.

Their eyes all go wide simultaneously. "No! Oh, goodness, we're not talking about you, Y/N!" Livia defends quickly and takes a small step closer, looking genuinely mortified by the confusion. "Clemensia. We're talking about Clemmie."

"Oh." Coryo says at the very same time your lips form the same word you couldn't speak.

Sure, they were talking about your classmate this time, but you were not foolish enough to guess they hadn't had a similar conversation about you when you weren't present. Unless they had more pity for your situation, which may very well be worse.

"We were wondering if you knew what happened, you were the last one with her before she got this... 'illness' that has apparently turned her half snake."

Your eyes go wide at Persephone's explanation, and you look frantically between them and Coryo. He had never told you anything about this, and he knew it was his job to keep you updated on all the petty and worthless gossip going on at your school while you were away.

You smack his arm a few times, eyes pleading for him to please explain what they were talking about, as the girls watched you with amused and slightly sympathetic smiles.

"Oh, well..." He hesitates noticeably, shaking his head dismissively. "I didn't... as far as I know she just fell ill."

He was lying and you knew it. You could feel his muscles tense around your arm.

"Oh, really? So, you and Clemmie go to the Citadel to speak with Dr. Gaul, and she is never seen again without scales and you just claim... nothing weird happened?" Livia asks, clearly not buying it either.

He gives a resigned sigh, looking around briefly. "I am not meant to discuss it." He explains quietly. "But... I honestly do not know. She brought us both into a room separately to discuss the contents of the proposal. I went first, and they instructed me to not wait for her. If something happened, I was not made a witness."

The girls seem a little disappointed with this answer, but only for a moment. It was believable enough to them.

"I mean, it's human experimentation- obviously." Livia says with a shrug, bringing her glass up to her lips. "I really don't put it past the doctor, she is deranged at the best of times."

"Ooh, yes, maybe she wanted to see if she could give a human a pit organ- maybe Clemmie can see heat now. Or smell with her tongue." Persephone giggles in a whisper, leaning in so only the three of you were privy to her joke.

You tilt your head, and immediately your mind is running a mile a minute. If Dr. Gaul could alter someone's DNA enough to turn them partially into an animal, she could easily reconstruct your vocal cords... Right?

no taglist this time around!! my fics usually get over a hundred requests to be added to the taglist so instead i made a library! follow me over on @runningfrom2am-library and turn on notifs to get updates when i post new parts!!

[kk095]

Life and Death in the ER: Dr Lindsay

*Good evening everyone, I hope all is well. I greatly appreciate all the positive feedback on my last story Alexa's Arrhythmia! I'd like to try something a little different with the story you're about to read. Although it may not be everyone's cup of tea, I think it's a great opportunity for you guys to get to know some of our go-to characters a little better. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy it!*

Aside from medicine, Dr Lindsay’s passion in life is running. The cute, sporty tomboy doctor we all know and love was a college track star at the D1 college she attended once upon a time ago. Believe it or not, Lindsay had legitimate Olympic aspirations, and at one point in time, she was set to qualify for the United States women’s track team. But fate had other plans, which came in the form of a sudden, severe ACL and LCL tear in her left knee. Reconstructive surgery was performed and she of course recovered, but Lindsay definitely lost her X factor. Even though Lindsay could still run circles around 99% of humanity as a 33 year old with a bum knee, she lost that slight edge all those years ago, which is all it took for her Olympic hopes and dreams to go up in smoke. Sometimes Lindsay thought “what if?” in regards to her potential professional sports career, but at the same time, being an ER physician fulfilled her in a different way.

Lindsay truly embraced her role as a doctor and caretaker in the emergency department, always going the extra mile for her patients and thinking outside the box to try to save them. Time after time, Dr Lindsay found herself in the midst of life and death struggles in the trauma bay, always seeming to have her hands inside the chest of a beautiful woman. But right now, somewhere in an alternate reality, the role was reversed, with Lindsay being the beauty fighting for her life in the all too familiar emergency department.

The room Lindsay found herself in was quite a scene. A cacophony of sound hit anyone the instant they set foot in the room. Alarms and monitors were going off. Orders were being barked. Footsteps pitter-pattered around the room. The high pitched, electrical whirring of defibrillators charging echoed around the room from yet another unsuccessful shock. The tension was palpable.

All across the floor of the room, various items were strewn about. Wrappers from bits of medical equipment were tossed to the ground. Empty, used up blood transfusion and IV bags found themselves discarded. Lindsay’s bloody, tattered clothes also wound up on the light colored tile after a brief encounter with a set of shears. Small droplets of blood made a trail leading from the room’s entrance, all the way over to where the trauma room table was.

On the table, underneath the harsh, bright, fluorescent overhead light was the center of attention for the room’s occupants. Dr Sarah, Nurse Nancy, and Nurse Heather worked as a trio, each lady knowing their role inside out, backwards and forwards, from A to Z. Everyone knew their jobs at an expert level, but it was easier said than done for the emergency department’s triumvirate to maintain composure and impartiality, considering a friend and colleague was the poor soul requiring their lifesaving services this time.

Nurse Nancy, the 20+ year veteran of the ER who’s been there, done that, and seen it all stood at the head of the bed ambu bagging, sending much needed air into Dr Lindsay’s lungs. The stress, chaos, gore, and shock that came with being an ER nurse never fazed Nancy, especially after being exposed to such things for over two decades. But in this scenario, Nancy struggled. This wasn’t a stranger on the table tonight. Nurse Nancy couldn’t wrap her head around the idea of the ER’s go-to, unanimously loved leader being the one on the table this time. Heck, Nancy couldn’t even bring herself to look down at the table, not wanting to see her friend’s face, or the overall shape she was in. There was a knot in Nancy’s stomach, and her heart was racing. She hoped and prayed Dr Lindsay would pull through, but as each minute ticked by, each one faster than the last, Nancy’s hope was soon replaced by dread.

Heather, our emergency team’s dependable, hardworking nurse who regularly showed her moxie, stood off to the side of the table, tasked with keeping an eye on the heart monitors in order to note any changes, as well as pushing meds and setting up any equipment Dr Sarah may need. Heather’s eyes were trained on the heart monitors, which displayed a squiggly, sinuous, unorganized line. That squiggly line Heather watched signified something called ventricular fibrillation- a situation where a patient’s heart is twitching instead of actually beating, typically requiring a defibrillator shock in order to restore normal cardiac activity. Ventricular fibrillation, commonly known as v-fib amongst healthcare professionals, was something Heather has seen more times than she could count during her handful of years as a nurse. However, Heather found herself stunned when eyeing the heart monitor, coming to the stark realization that a familiar face was the one being resuscitated this time.

Dr Sarah, the cute, petite, nerdy redheaded doctor who, for all intents and purposes, was Dr Lindsay’s right hand man and most important ally in the battlegrounds of the trauma bay, stood right up against the table, doing anything and everything to bring her fellow ER doc back. Sarah had her gloved hands inside Lindsay’s chest, which was splayed open earlier in the struggle via a clamshell thoracotomy. The redheaded doctor’s hands were firmly wrapped around Dr Lindsay’s boggy, fibrillating heart, vigorously massaging away. A wet, rhythmic squishing sound was produced from Sarah’s internal compressions. “come on Linds… come on….” Sarah uttered under her breath, trying to fight the overwhelming emotions that attempted to consume her. “You were just talking to us Linds… Come on…” continued Sarah, trying to will Lindsay back amongst the living.

Sarah composed herself for a moment. “Let’s shock her again. Recharge the paddles to 30, Heather.” Ordered Sarah, stepping up to the plate. Heather did what she had to do. She set the crash cart to 30 joules and hit the charge button. The high pitched, electrical whining of the internal paddles charging filled the room as Heather handed Sarah the large, spoon shaped devices. Sarah pulled her hands out of Lindsay’s chest cavity and grabbed ahold of the internal paddles. Dr Sarah lowered the internal paddles into the gaping chasm of an incision site, around Lindsay’s erratically fluttering heart.

While her friends worked urgently to save her, Lindsay laid on the table, stripped completely nude, her toned, athletic body on full display in a room full of familiar faces, the violating nature of that fact going to the wayside due to the dire essence of the situation. Lindsay’s sandy, light brown hair was tied back in a messy bun or ponytail of sorts, being held in place with a black headband. The doctor’s icy, sky blue eyes remained open, her pupils the size of dimes, staring up above with a full blown death stare etched onto her face. She was intubated, with the ET tube being secured by a blue tube holder around the area of her mouth and lips. IV lines stuck out of both her arms. Her torso was littered with EKG electrodes and wires. A chest tube stuck out the left side of Lindsay’s ribs, redirecting blood and trapped air outwards. The rest of her upper torso, and belly to a lesser degree, were soaked with a combination of both blood and betadine. However, Lindsay’s chest was the main sight of shock and awe. Her chest had a large, crude, gash just below the nipple line, extending the entirety of her chest horizontally. Not only was there a massive gash, her sternum was sawed in half, and her chest was splayed open via a clamshell thoracotomy. A metal rib retractor sat dead center in her chest, keeping everything open. A large, metal vascular clamp stuck up and out of the incision site. Sarah could also be seen holding the internal defibrillator paddles in place in anticipation of a shock.

“Paddles charged. Everyone… CLEAR!” Dr Sarah called out, everyone else stepping back from the table. THWACK. The shock was delivered. “mmmph…” Lindsay moaned softly, her torso twitching sharply in response to Sarah’s shock. The trio paused after the shock. The monitors beeped fast and loud, everyone’s eyes looking over to see if there was a change. “Come on… she’s still in v-fib. I’m going again at 30. Everyone…. CLEAR!” shouted Dr Sarah, immediately shocking Lindsay again. Lindsay’s shoulders shrugged forward and her arms shivered, a wet thump being heard. Like before, Dr Lindsay’s heartbeat was unable to be restored. Sarah decided to up the ante, shocking her friend and coworker at 40 joules during the next go around. “MMMM!” Lindsay moaned louder, as if she could feel the stronger intensity of the shock. Again, v-fib persisted. “I’m going again at 40! Everyone…CLEAR!” Barked Sarah, determined to keep going. The next shock caused Lindsay’s toes to scrunch up hard at the far end of the table, showing off the bright white nail polish on her toes, along with the wavy, thin, but prominent wrinkles that permeated the soles of the big, size 11 feet she was always so self conscious of.

Sarah wasn’t giving up, and neither was v-fib, so the fight was on. “Going again at 40! Everyone… CLEAR!!!” Sarah passionately yelled out, shocking Lindsay once more. Lindsay’s torso shot up and plopped back down hard all within the span of a second. The monitors kept alarming, but by that point, the trio tuned out the noise of the monitors, considering they were well aware there was a major problem. In the seconds after that shock, Lindsay’s heart fluttered and danced weakly for a moment, before coming to a sudden, complete stop. The heart monitors flatlined, and Lindsay’s heart sat completely motionless inside her cracked open chest. Lindsay’s beautiful blue eyes stayed wide open, staring up above, almost as if she was watching her friends determine their next move.

The flatline on the monitors was an absolute gut punch for everyone. Sarah stood there holding the internal paddles, deep in rumination about her next move. At the head of the bed, Nurse Nancy shined a pen light into Lindsay’s eyes. Lindsay’s pupils were the size of dimes, completely blown, not reacting to the pen light in the slightest. “oh… poor baby…” Nancy uttered, placing the pen light back in her breast pocket. “Pupils fixed and dilated.” Nancy continued, informing everyone, shaking her head. Heather looked over at the heart monitor. “Asystole on the monitors, down 37 minutes.” Added Heather. There was a collective pause after Heather’s words. Nancy didn’t say anything, but she went ahead and detached the ambu bag from the ET tube, a small amount of air quietly hissing out. The two nurses looked over at Sarah, knowing they’ve done all they could for their friend, but needed Sarah to make the final call.

Dr Sarah stood there shell shocked. Sure, Sarah has lost patients before- any ER doctor has. But this was different. This was a coworker. A colleague. A leader. Someone she looked up to. But most importantly, this was a friend. Sarah felt morally and emotionally obligated to continue resuscitation efforts. How could she just give up on Lindsay? At the same time, Dr Sarah viewed the situation clinically and logically. She knew that all possible options were exhausted. An asystolic patient with a downtime of 37 minutes and blown pupils was too far gone for additional interventions. With all this in mind, Sarah snapped back to reality, eyeing each member of the trauma team. Dr Sarah didn’t say a word to any of them. Finally, her eyes looked over at the clock that sat on the back left wall of the room. Sarah gently placed the internal paddles back down on the crash cart, then peeled her blood soaked, latex gloves off, her heart racing, eventually making the dreaded announcement. “Time of death, 8:08pm…” Sarah’s voice wobbling, on the verge of tears.

Nobody said a word, but everyone knew exactly what to do next. Nurse Nancy switched off the flatlined monitors, silencing the once noisy, hectic room. Heather disconnected the EKG electrodes and removed the IVs from each of Dr Lindsay’s arms. A blue surgical drape was hastily tossed on top of the open thoracotomy site, obscuring Lindsay’s inert, motionless heart from view. A toe tag was then filled out and placed on the big toe of Lindsay’s left foot. The tag dangled against the fine, thin, but prominent wrinkles that permeated the soles of Lindsay’s feet. Lastly, a cover was placed over Lindsay, concealing the hauntingly beautiful gaze forever etched onto her face. Unfortunately for Lindsay, a cruel twist of fate- and perhaps irony resulted in her dying in the very place she spent so much of her time. In this alternate reality, Dr Lindsay was now the hottie who laid toe tagged and under a sheet in the emergency department.

[digitalagepulao]

Prodigal son terror

Li Jing in a fury grabbed his halberd, leapt on his horse and galloped out of the headquarters. He was astonished to see Nezha with his Wind-Fire Wheels and Fire-Tipped Spear. He swore loudly, "You damned beast! You caused us endless suffering before your death, and now that you've been reborn, you're troubling us again!"

"Li Jing! I've returned my flesh and bones to you, and there's no longer any relation between us. Why did you smash my golden idol with your whip and burn down my temple? Today I must take my revenge!"

since I'm on a Nezha streak, might as well do my design for him on the Expedition AU! given that i've chosen to give characters a closer likeness to their region, it's only fitting i do the same with import deities like Guanyin, Subodhi and Nezha.

he's a complicated figure to place in the timeline because he gained popularity as a deity much after, only really arriving in China by the time the Journey would have been set. FSYY was written closer to when JTTW was written down, and he was retroactively inserted on the Zhou Dynasty period.

so deciding what to even do with him is dicey. but then i said fuck it, mythological rules apply here, he was around for the events of FSYY, and it and JTTW are set in the same universe. and for the sake of having some fun, i decided to get funky with his concept.

Nezha had the likeness of his family when he was alive, as described in FSYY, but once he was reborn with a lotus body he gained Indian traits instead. this is to be a nod to his status as an import deity and his origin as Nalakubara, and as the centuries roll by he may present himself to mortals closer to the locals' appearance wise.

as for his looks, i drew inspiration from multiple sources. read more for my rambles <3

his armor is closer to reconstructions of Zhou dynasty-period armor, skipping over extra parts simply because his lotus body is so indestructible, there's no need for a full set;

there are two red Chinese knots with jade beads dangling from the armor ties. they are said to ward off evil spirits, which felt like a good fit for a guy known to banish demons. i picked a six-petal flower pattern, which represents reunion, unity and a bright future;

i included lotus petals and leaves on his outfit as they are common in Beijing Opera outfits for him, and his makeup is a call to it as well;

The pink from the cheeks and eyeshadow seeps into his ear shell, as to convey the way sometimes, you get so angry even your ears blush;

Another thing i referenced from Opera is the two red ribbons on his sidelocks, though I changed them to two bulbs of lotus roots;

Four petals drawn close to his urna as both to make it look like a lotus but also form five petals, which is an auspicious number;

His hair crown is a fancy princely [knot] with a lotus motif and a pearl in the center, as he was the Pearl Spirit before becoming Nezha;

I was going to go with elf-like ears but I thought I could do better, so I went for stretched earlobes instead. you can't see it that well but hopefully the very large golden earrings imply it well enough xvx;

His cheek dimples are common sight on religious images of him and it was a cute touch imo;

Younger Nezha wears a golden robe because of his title as General of the Central Altar in Daoist belief, and the center direction is connected to yellow or gold, and yellow robes are usually meant for emperors and their sons, which is a minor nod to his self-assureness and boldness;

The Cosmic Ring has spiralling grooves on it both to catch blades on it for defense but also as a callback to Opera props;

On his waist is the embroidered ball weapon he was attributed with in earlier myths, he was also meant to have the leopard skin bag Taiyi Zhenren gave him, bjt it was going to be obscured by the text so i omitted it;

A few depictions of him gave him a halo of fire, which was real cool so i added it as well.

[yvanspijk]

To wade & vadere

The English verb to wade is closely related to Romance verbs forms such as Italian vado (I go), French va (goes) and Spanish vamos (we go). These come from the Latin verb vādere (to go). Most forms of this verb don't survive in the Romance languages, but some of its present tense forms were lent to the mixed bags of the Romance verbs for 'to go'. Click the infographic to learn more about the origins of to wade and its Romance cognates.

On my Patreon you can read why the Romance verbs for 'to go' became so irregular and why the Germanic verbs became regular weak verbs instead (800 words). Patrons who are subscribed to tier 2 can also download an audio file of me reading the historical words in their reconstructed pronunciations.

[bluegalaxygirl]

Amnesia (KidKiller X Reader) P14

Plot: After an explosion reader wakes up in a hospital with no memory of the past few years, her parents want to take her home so she can recover and get back to a normal life while the Kid pirates want her back on the ship where she belongs.

Warning: Bad language, Family issues, Mental abuse, Body issues/shaming, mentions of eating disorders, reconstructive surgery, Blood, domestic abuse and Violence.

Reader is Female, Poly Relationship, established relationship, Kid X Reader X Killer, Reader is a member of the Kid pirates and is in charge of the money, Budgeting and negotiating the best price.

< Previous part …. Next Part >

The Victoria was oddly quiet mainly because most of the crew where either on the deck doing cleaning work and look out duty or off the ship heading into the shopping area to get the supply's they ordered days ago, Kid of course is mad about it wanting to head into those shops and demand the stuff for free or just take the stuff after such a long wait but Killer and Wire managed to calm him down a little and shove him into his workshop which is where he's currently working on odd things. His leg bounces hating having to wait a whole day to see you and not getting to beat the shit out of anyone, again it would be much easier to destroy this place and take you with them, but he knows you well enough to know that if he does that and you get your memories back you would be overly angry with him and become less trusting of him. Your no stranger to violence and killing but Kidnapping and being forced to do something against your will is something you never tolerated, he laughs at the memory of you calling yourself a hypocrite since you didn't mind doing stuff like that to your enemies. A knock on the door jolts the captain out of his thoughts, swiveling around in his chair he flicks his hand using his devil fruit to unlock the door and open it seeing Killer, Wire and Heat all at the door "What?" Kid growls as the three enter the room, Wire closes and locks the door behind him which makes the red head raise a brow "Heat has found some info for us" Killer stands walking to stand next to his captain before turning to look over at a very tired looking Heat, the bags under his eyes are a lot darker and his eyes are blood shot.

Crossing his arms over his chest Kid sighs hoping they have something good they can use and not just some useless info "Go on then, get on with it" The captain snaps, Heat jumps slightly being brought back to the real world from his slightly sleepy state, cleaning his throat the stitched man runs a hand over his tatty hair knowing he needs a good show but what he found was more than he thought and the deeper he dug the harder it was to pull away. "There's a lot to go threw, i left Mohawk and Narbe, at the library in town, they managed to get in contact with a few people who used to work for the family, its surprising how willing they are say what goes on behind closed doors. Most of the books there though are strange to say the least, all are based on the history of entertainment and old newspapers that only show big achievements and positive views" Kid groans throwing his head back in annoyance not wanting to know how they got the information "Hurry up Heat, i'm loosing patients here" With a gulp Heat nods ruffling his hair a little to get his head in gear, its common for him to ramble when tired so Wire places a hand on his friends shoulder patting it a few times in reassurance and motivation to go on. "R-right, sorry. So Y/n's farther is the 7th owner of most of the companies he owns, all of which was passed down to him from his father and his father before him and so on, but he is the first to make a deal with the world government to supply not only medical equipment but also weapons, the guns the marines use are made by his company but before that they were sold to mulish groups, how he got away with it i honestly don't know. There's only one company he owns that doesn't involve the world government or the marines but there's little to nothing on that one, i only know that its based in the north blue."

Killer nods at the information, its surprising how much your farther caters to the world government, and yet he hasn't called in the marines yet, it makes the masked man anxious. "How many companies in total does he own?" the blonde asks wanting to know how deeply involved your farther is, getting rid of him might work in their favor if you agree to it at the end of all of this. "Four in total, the third one that provides to the world government has something to do with clothes. He also has shares in other companies and places but most of them are medical, he actually owns half the hospital here." Kids taken aback by this new information but it does make sense now why they brought you all the way here and why the staff, other than the nurse, always seem to take your families side. Wire raises an eyebrow removing his hand from the stitched man's shoulder to cross his arms over his chest "I thought they had their medical license revoked, they can't own a hospital without one" The tall man comments makes Killer hum in though his mind running to try and figure out what is going on, its clear they need you for something otherwise they wouldn't be going this far, do they need you in order to get that licence back? if so this seems way to drastic for something so small. Heat shakes his head with a sigh "That is kinda true, they got their license to make medication revoked, i couldn't find much on it but there was this drug they made that ended up killing a lot of marines that were using it, so the government took their license away. They can still make medical equipment, bandages and stuff like that though"

With a loud groan Kid leans back not seeing much point in all this information, so what if your father owns all that stuff and the place your staying in, they still can't tell him what to do or stop him from doing what he wants, your not going to be their hostage, he'll make dam sure of that "Is there anything else?" The captain asks looking back at Heat who quickly looks away while rubbing his arm, the energy in the room shifts to one of nervousness and slight sickness, Wire tilts his head at his friend a pit forming in his stomach knowing its bad if Heat is reluctant to talk about it "Shit.. this about Y/n or the family?" The tall man asks hoping its nothing bad to do with you but deep down he knows it has everything to do with you, Killer stops his pondering to look at the stitched man, his anxiety rising making him feel physically sick, Kid grits his teeth both his hands gripping onto the arms of his chair threatening to crack it under his grip. "Heat… Get on with it" Kid growls in a low tone, one he rarely uses, his anger spikes the longer Heat takes to talk but when he does the three of them stop in their tracks of high emotion "Y/n… she- she used to do beauty contest and pageants from a young age-" Before he can finish Kid bursts out laughing, the anger he once held gone at how stupid it sounded, Killer next to him lets out a long sigh relaxing his shoulders and moving to lean against Kid's workbench trying to calm his beating heart down. Wire slaps Heat on the back giving him a shit eating grin while letting out a small huff of a laugh "Are you fucking kidding me man, thats it?" The tall man rolls his eyes.

Kid leans forward slapping his knee while trying to calm his laughter down "Oh! t-thats f-funny… Imagine our N/N in a fucking puffy dress… she would rather be burned alive then do that shit" Kid laughs hitting Killer on the arm lightly managing to get a laugh out of his partner but the masked man quickly stops himself as Heat growls taking a step closer to the two with bright red cheeks "No really, she's won a bunch, and… She looks good in all of them but.." Heat yells only to stop himself and look down the redness in his cheeks fading away as anger starts to overcome him, Kid raises an eyebrow at his friend wondering why there would be a 'But' in that sentence while Killer looks the stitched man over frowning under his mask. A pit forms in Heat's stomach thinking his captain and maybe even Killer will kill him for thinking your hot but it has nothing to do with that. "I'm not hitting on your girl or anything Captain, its just, I'm concerned some of them are… provocative for a young girl.. i mean the newest ones i could find was when she was 16" Heat tries to explain backing up a bit in hopes his Captain won't kill him, Killer's shoulders tense his hands turning to fists at his side, anger flows through him, not at Heat's commenting on your body, but he can see what his friend is starting to get at. "I don't think she wanted to do it, she always has this fake smile in the photos and her mother is the center of any article about her wins. All she talks about though is weight loss, beauty is pain and shit like, heck there's a part in one new's paper where she openly praises eating disorders" anger boils inside the stitched man making his body start to warm up and smoke start to leave his mouth.

Wire takes a step back not wanting to get to close to the now fire angry man his gaze flicking to the captain secretly asking if he should step in but Kid's eyes are angrily locked onto Heat who continues to rant "I mean if thats what she says when Y/n is winning then what the fuck is she saying when Y/n's losing? I found out from one of maids that used to work there that Y/n had to have reconstructive surgery on both her ears after her mother deiced to piece them with a hot needle and an ice cube, she got other pageant moms to hold her down and then forced her on stage after to prance around in a pretty dress and for what? Winning a gift card… yea thats the fucking prize, a 50 berri gift card and a plastic crown. How stupid is that? The shit that lady made Y/n go threw is ridiculous, i mean calorie control books, daily weighing, restricting or even locking away food if she weighed even a little over, pulling her out of school to be pretty and proper like some little lap dog and almost beating her because she cut her hair without permission. That Bitch is crazy and as for her farther he's just as bad he-" Heat only stops his rant when Wire grabs him pulling the stitched man into a hug, one arm around his waist and the other holding his head to the tall man's chest, thick smoke coats the air as Heat pants making the room stuffy but none of the men move to open the door. Kid's hands shake as they grip together, his body now leaning forwards and his elbows on his knee's letting his mind go run through all the strange stuff you used to do and say.

It all made sense now, why you never got your ears pierced, why you always insisted on working out even when tired or in pain, why you never wanted to wear makeup or dresses and why you hated people commenting on your body, it makes him sick to think he used to tease you over this stuff, liking getting a little rise out of you but now he just feels like a dick. Killer grabs the edge of the workbench making it squeak under the amount of strength he's using, he has his own personal image issues and you've been nothing but sportive thought it, always knowing what to say and how to comfort him, he's done the same for you but hearing this just makes him so mad. You never minded talking about food or helping out with food but you never wanted to know anything about Calorie's or fat content, its clear now why, and he's just thankful that you don't have an eating disorder now, the past might have been different, so he'll make a mental note to talk to you about it tomorrow, he needs to know how deep this goes, he doesn't want you to end up like him, hiding behind a mask and unable to look at himself in the mirror with feeling a sickness growing inside. Before he wouldn't lay a hand on your mother only for your sake but after hearing this he wants nothing more than to wrap his hand around her throat and make her bag you for forgiveness before ending her life weather you like it or not.

With the room oddly silent it gives everyone time to go through their own thoughts and feelings on the matter but Heat knows there's more, he's only talked about your mother, he hasn't even gotten onto your farther yet and there's still more stuff to go through. The beauty contests seemed to be the main problem to everyone who used to work for the family, but he knows you well enough to know that its just the tip of the iceberg, it runs deeper, and he's not sure if he wants to find out how deep. "No wonder she hates being called pretty and beautiful, imagine a bunch of old sweaty judges, family and so called friends commenting on your body for years, judging you on your looks and nothing else" Heat sighs letting the flames in his throat die down and the smoke in his mouth starting to thin out, patting his friends back Wire lets go to unlock the door and open it, letting the smoke flow out of the room, stepping out he looks both ways down the long hallway seeing a cabin boy mopping the floor with wide eyes. "There's no fire, head up top and tell everyone to stay away until further notice" Wire blankly states earning a nod from the boy who quickly grabs his bucket and mop before rushing down the hall and up to the deck, now the area is clear the tall man turns back to his friends letting out a sigh, he tried not to get too angry about it all but even he has his limits. Wire is extremely good at hiding how he's really feeling, even better than Killer which is saying something but even know he's finding it difficult to keep his straight face.

Kids leg bounces as a growl leaves his lips and his amber eyes travel from the floor to the stitched man now leaning against the wall "Her Farther… what did he do?" The captain pushes those words through gritted teeth wanting to know everything before he storms off and releases some steam, with a sigh that releases a little more smoke Heat turns his head to look at the door annoyed at himself for letting the smoke get this bad "Mohawk managed to dig up a few things but there isn't a lot, he's still an ass but at least it sounds like he didn't physically hurt N/n" Killer rolls his eyes not feeling any better about this even though he knew his friend was trying not to make himself and everyone else more angry "Mohawk found that the company in the north blue was having some money issues for almost a year, at the same time Y/n stops doing any kind of contests or pageants, once the issues was resolved though Y/n started doing them again. I think he got Y/n to do all that work just to cast her aside after she was no longer useful, what a prick." Heat slumps against the wall now looking up at the ceiling in order to try and control the fire starting to burn in his throat again, Wire sighs walking over and patting the stitched man on the shoulder, he know something like that would hit you hard. They all see the way your eyes light up when ever you get praised for your work, your also very dedicated making sure everything is in order and perfect. "She's does has siblings but only the youngest who's the first boy in the family is the air to the companies, i couldn't find much on him other than he's still very young" Heat concludes glad he got all of it out, but he wonders if this information was even useful, there is a chance they could remind you of all the shit your family did and that will make you come back but at the same time you remember all of it and still somehow chose to keep them around.

Killers hand grips the desk hard enough for it to crack a chunk off, he flinches slightly bringing his hand up to see the chunk of wood and a bit of metal still gripped tightly in his hand, the anger inside of him is still there, and he knows he needs to calm down before he breaks more of the ship. Kid growls while leaning back in his chair, his hands shaking with anger and the need to lash out, his mind races with things he wants to do and say to your parents making his mind block out the destitution between Wire and Heat "So what about the marines? Why ain't they here if their so buddy buddy?" The tall mans asks feeling like something is off about all this but Heat just shrugs "I don't know, he seems to be friends with most of the lower level marines but other than that i can't find anything too useful." Without a word Kid quickly stands his hands grabbing the arms of his chair and flinging it back into the wall before storming out of the room, his anger getting the better of him, Killer quickly follows with no intention to stop his partner while Wire and Heat rush out unsure of what their captains plan is. Slamming the door to the deck open the crew who are there jump in surprise most moving out of the raging captains way, those who didn't are shoved aside with a gruff huff or a warning growl, the captains eyes are fixed on your parents ship currently five rows over, the guards in duty stand tall one on either side of the ramp while servants run around none of them noticing the heavy aura that starts to emanate from Kid, he knows exactly what he wants to do, destroy their ship and make your parents pay.

He can't hold back any longer with anger reaching an almost overwhelming level, storming down the dock his eyes are fixed on the almost royal looking ship as his boots stomp heavily across the wood making it crack in places and splinter in others, it isn't long before his actions draw an audience of his crew, the men and women of the ship running to the railing of their ship in order to see what's going on. Killer along with Heat and Wire make their way up too knowing know what is going to happen, Heat lets a large smile form on his face as he takes a step towards the ramp leading down onto the dock wanting to join in the distraction only to be grabbed roughly by Wire "Shit, Captain wait" The tall man yells knowing its reached his captains ears since he earns a middle finger in response "Stay here" Wire growls down at the stitched man who growls back while crossing his arms over his chest, he wants to join his captain but Wire can be very scary when he gets mad so opts to do as he's told. Running off the ship the tall man quickly turns back expecting Killer to be right behind him only to see empty space, looking back onto the ship the masked man hasn't moves from his spot just watching his captain angrily make his way to the last dock. He should stop Kid, if he does the captain will listen, they might fight about it later but, no, after everything he's heard he won't stop his partner, they deserve what ever comes to them, you might hate them for it but at this point he doesn't care. A part of him wants to order Wire back to the ship but with his anger seething inside he can't get anything through his gritted teeth and clenched jaw.

With a groan of frustration Wire runs off his longs legs making it easy for him to catch up to Kid just as the captain starts gathering metal around his arm hoping to sink the ship which is now just down the long dock "Captain… Kid stop" Wire rushes in front of the red head trying to stop the man from doing anything too bad, he wants these people to pay for what they've done but there's too many things to consider, one, the marines might get involved which means another big fight and them unable to stay here for too long, two, they have no idea how your going to react when finding out, you might not come back with them which leads to them just taking you by forth which won't go down well and three, the captains rage won't just stop at the ship, it'll carry on until he's satisfied which means the whole island will be burning including the hospital your in. "I know your angry, and they deserve what ever comes to them but not now" Wire still tries to convince his captain while starting to step back seeing the red head not slowing down or stopping, he knows if he stays in the way he'll get shoved aside or worse thrown. "Get the fuck out of my way, i'm gonna tare them apart, rip them limb from bloody limb, make them beg for forgiveness then deny them the sweet relief of death until I'm satisfied" Kid growls with a sickening smirk, one that just oozes blood-lust almost making his mouth water, the captains metal arm becomes huge casting a shadow over your parents ship which is now only a few steps away.

The guards on the deck rush over with guns and swords but their weapons are pulled out of their hand adding to the still growing fist, those in the ship either cower in fear, frozen unable to move or run around calling for people to get off the ship and onto the deck "Eustass Kid, what the meaning of this?" The familiar grinding voice of your farther yells out from behind the captain getting the red head to turn his head, burning amber eyes glaring at your Stoic farther who's walking down the dock to his ship surprisingly calm for a man now in the eyesight of a raging supernova. "You bastard, What the fuck do you want from her?" Kid's voice echo's out as his metal hand grips onto the mast of the ship the once perfect glistening white and chestnut wood splintering at his light grip, he wasn't going to destroy the ship just yet, plus if your mother is on there he doesn't want it sinking yet, he wants to take her out himself. Your farther's eyes narrow as he crosses his arms over his chest "She is my daughter, i would do anything for her" The blatant lie causing another wave of anger to wash over the red head his metal hand unctuously gripping tighter until the mast cracks and splinters into pieces, the part above his hand creaking and falling into the ocean, screams and cry's call out as more servants and guards rush off the ship as it rocks from the waves. Some guards run up attempting to punch or kick Wire only for the tall man to kick them into the water and send a glare to anyone else who gets any ideas, he knows know there's nothing he can do to stop this so has no chose but to watch what ever unfolds and take out anyone who gets in his captains way. "Bullshit, if you actually cared you'd have kept her away from that bitch of a wife"

A gasp is heard from the crowd of people gathered at the end of the dock your mother pushing her way to the front with a frown clear on her face "How dare you, i gave that ungrateful child everything she could want" Kid's burning eyes slowly turn to look at the woman, its clear now she was acting back at the hospital, this is the real her "You conniving, vindictive cow" The captains voice sounds almost inhuman almost like a wolf drooling and snarling over its pray, Wire quickly moves out of the way as Kid lets go of all the metal he had been collecting letting it rain down into the ocean and onto the ship impaling wood, shattering glass windows and slicing through the rapes and sails so the captain can storm over to your mother. "Get away from her" Your farther yells but makes no move to get closer, guards moves to try and protect your mother trying to stop the man from getting any closer as the woman backs up becoming scares for her life. Killer's fists shake at his sides his anger also starting to grow at seeing your mother again, he can't hear what is being said, but he knows their certainly not apologizing for what they've done, honestly it wouldn't matter if they did or not they still deserve to pay, Heat growls his hands gripping into the wooden rail of the ship threatening to break it, his throat starts to warm up and smoke starts to leek out the corners of his stitched mouth. Neither of them can hold back any longer, in unison the two walk off the Victoria earning gulps, wide grins and looks of confusion from the crew watching on, neither of them knew what they were going to do once they made it to your parents but it wasn't going to be good.

[angryschnauzer]

19th February 2024

An update.

Hubby has finished his radiotherapy. It seemed like a long 6 weeks, and its taken its toll on him with extreme fatigue. He was also on a mild dose of chemotherapy at the same time, that thankfully didn't come with any side affects such as nausea, but he was on anti sickness meds for that.

He'll now have about 4 weeks off all treatment to allow his body to recover and to try and regain some strength. But during those 4 weeks he'll have some tests and MRI's to see if the tumour is growing back.

Then from mid march he will have 6 rounds of strong chemotherapy, with one week on, three weeks off. This will be a much stronger dose so the nausea side affects may be considerably more than the small dose he had with his radiotherapy.

What we don't know is what the prognosis is. We don't know if he has 6 months, 18 months, 5 years, whatever. And now we aren't told either. They wont be pinned down to a 'you have x amount of months left' because its been found this is much more detrimental to patients mental health (and also their families) as if the patent passes away before then there is resentment that the prognosis was wrong, or if the patient lives longer there is also resentment as to 'why did we rush to do the bucket list' when i actually had more time.

This however is impacting my mental health. The uncertainty of what the future holds, and what plans i can make for the future. There are trips with our son's school that i've had to ask the school to make special exceptions for us with where we'd like a space reserved but can't commit to it. Same with any sort of commitment or plan for the future.

Hubby however is fairly relaxed about it all. I honestly think he thinks its going to be cured. He plans on going back to work from start of March, but working the equivalent of 1 day a week spread over 5 days, so around 2 hours a day. This would be working remotely from home, and i do support this as he needs something to concentrate on, but its hard to imagine what future life is going to be like. He can't drive for another 2.5 yrs (one year after his seizure, and then 2 after radiotherapy because it was on his brain), so he won't be able to commute into the office anyway by car, and he can't go via train as he can't carry a bag because of his reconstruction surgery on his shoulder.

Thankfully his employers have been wonderful about this, and we are covered for the bills financially as well but will have to tighten our belts with a lot of things. I'm still trying to work and keep my business going, but finding the time to do so is tough as i'm now basically a full time carer for two people; my son and my husband. (The government doesn't consider the work i do for them 'enough' to pay an allowance though').

So that's were we're at. We've had a lot of other shit thrown at us since the start of the year too, but its not as important as the situation with my husband so that's what i'll keep you updated on.

[farejourney]

REPAST – Chapter 1

(manhwas x reader) *will be following the webtoon, which takes in Ancient China.

"Guess it's time to change into a hanfu and pack all my stuff then," they said, putting the key with the pink and white tag onto the counter of the pony wall that was separating the kitchen and the outside while putting the other key back on the key holder on the wall. They went straight to the changing room, which is just the break room with lockers in it, and search for a reconstruction of commoners' hanfu of their favourite colour. Simple and light.

Once they change, back to the kitchen they went and they packed things that seemed important as much as they could inside of a bag of just cloth. "Ah... The food ingredients will spoil once I get there.. oh well, I guess I'll hunt for more in murim.. I should write down a list for that," they murmured when they realise how much of a stock shortage they'll be experiencing on their journey. Thinking positively fast, they wrote down a list of things to hunt for later and also instead pack all the basic necessities for cooking and some ingredients for the other menu into different boxes as well as jars, "I'll just bring salt and pepper... Cauliflower? Maybe that... Mhmn... Ah, I need these too... Two or three jar of hyacinth petals... More of that.. and we're done!" Tying the cloth together tightly and securely, they carry it on their shoulder with one hand. The other hand grab the key from the counter and head over to the entrance, trying to not trip over the hanfu. Inserting the key into the keyhole, turning it to the right which unlocked the door. Then putting the key into the secret pocket, along with money of the era, the ingredients list and a map, to hide it. Opening the door even wider, they glance to the side to see their sword. 'Should I..? No, I'll just beat them up barehanded,' They shook their head at their thought and with that, they exit their restaurant to another world.

Lights blinds them for a moment before the blue sky and tree leaves takes over their vision. Currently standing in the middle of the woods. Taking the map out of their pocket, taking a good look at all the sectors and information written down as well as the list. "Next location is Shaanxi but before that, 'get a jar full of red masrakins and blue sylimes'. Should be easy enough," Putting both the map and list back into their pocket, they close their eyes and focus on their surroundings and use the energy inside of them to locate the ingredients. A pathway of energy connected them to the energy that the masrakins and sylimes radiate. With that, they opened their eyes and took out a metal scrapper and two plastic glass jars. They walk towards a nearby tree and scrapped off the dead skin of it off to reveal red masrakins embedded into the trunk. Gently scrapping it out of the trunk, they spent precious time to finally get a jar full of red masrakins. Now, for the sylimes. Rushing towards another direction that the energy pathway has shown before, they went.

Finally reaching the specific spot, they crouched down and immediately started digging into the dirt. Soon, a bright light started to peak into their sight and they quickly dig even more to get the pieces of sylimes. Once they finally finish digging all the pieces they can find, out they put them all in the other jar. Unfortunately for them, it didn't fully reach the top but they figured they'll try again some other time and place. Gently putting the two jars back into their sack, then pull out a bottle of water to wash off the dirt from their hands. Putting the bottle back into the sack after. Standing up while wiping away the wetness on their hanfu, quickly holding up the sack - they started rushing towards to path to Shaanxi. They already wasted time on trying to find the ingredients, sure it was worth it but right now they have to speed up. In their speedy pace, they still managed to hear the loud scream of someone. They pay no mind or attention to it as it's not important to them right now.

Once they've reached the place, you look around. The streets are full of people, houses and markets. They walked around, looking at all what the markets trying to sell but none of them catches their eye, all of what they sell are not edible - even if they are edible, it doesn't fit into what is needed in their recipes. Still having the, pity or kindness, decency to buy at least a little bit of different ingredients from different markets.

In the middle of the place, they can see a boy with a messy appearance getting panhandling offerings. He looks pathetic, yes but they can see right through him. He isn't innocent as he seems and it's exactly who they're looking for. Fortunately, they didn't have to approach as the boy already approached them. Very brave for a beggar, they thought. He was putting up a pathetic facade and since he has a cute facial appearance, he's capable of doing so. But they know better.

They smile at him but it doesn't reach their eyes. "Are you thirsty, kid?" To which he nodded, he had realised that he doesn't have water amongst the food he has. Smirking, they thought, 'Sure I'll give you something to drink. I may have come here on a 'mission' but that doesn't mean I can't have fun.' They nodded and gesture him to follow them. While the boy is suspicious, he figured that he can still beat them up. They don't look strong to him. The both of them reach a secluded area and they gestured him to sit down with them. Once the both of them did, the boy look in anticipation once the person in front of him put their sack down but does not untie it. Instead, they simply reach inside from an opening - making the boy curious. Before he could peak in to see the inside of the sack however, the person look at him sharply as if they sense what he's trying to do. "Please, would you mind? I need you to close your eyes." It doesn't help the raising suspicion inside him but he did it anyway. If they try anything, he'll just beat them up. The person in front of him saw him close their eyes and they let the smile fall from their face. Sounds of items clanking together was all he heard but he didn't open his eyes. More like, he can't somehow. He can feel his eyes feeling heavy but he's not tired or sleepy. He's confused. Who is this person? Is it weird that he suspects the stranger on doing this?

The said person took out the jar of blue sylimes and took one out. Putting the sylime in their hand while putting back the jar and took out a Boston Shaker. Crushing the blue sylime effortlessly, they put the remains inside the shaker. Then, they grab a box of minpetal and add 4 of it into the shaker with the sylime dust. The cherries on top of this drink, they took out two bottles. One bottle of water and the other is a bottle of egite that looks like the raw egg without the yolk. Pouring half a bottle of water and egite together. 'It would be too cruel to use the higher but definitely more disgusting ingredients, so I'll give him some mercy.' Putting the top back on, they shook the Boston Shaker. After a while, they stopped and pour it into a gourd to avoid questions on where they got a Boston Shaker or what even is a Boston Shaker. After all, they can't reveal their secret just yet. That's way too soon.

The concoction emitted a refreshing minty smell. 'A drink shouldn't emit such smell unless it's medicine,' the boy grow wary. "You can open your eyes now, kid." To which he did. In front of him was their hand holding a gourd to him, 'Alcohol? Are they seriously giving an alcohol to a kid? I'll try to ignore the sound of the 'drink' shaking.' He hesitantly grabbed the bottle and took a sniff. Well, he can now confirm the minty smell so he's wondering if it's medicine but before he could ask them, they stood up hastily. Slinging their sack over their shoulder, they throw him a smile saying, "Well, I better go now. Keep the drink, kid. Bye!" And scurry away after, leaving him in confusion.

"They're so weird..." He said out loud now that the stranger is gone. He turn his gaze back to the bottle in his hand. "Should I drink this..? What if it's poison?" He rationally thought over. He stayed silent for a moment before his body trembles, but not in fear, "...But what if it's actual alcohol?" He laughs under his breath, licking his lips remembering the taste of alcohol in his past life. "Hehehee well there's only one way to find out!" Without hesitation, he drank it all in one gulp. However, he immediately regretted it when he taste it. He spat whatever was left in his mouth back out but unfortunately he managed to drink some. His face turns light green in disgust, "BLEH! What the hell is this?! It's disgusting!" Trying to rub the taste away from his tongue but his efforts are all futile. The taste still lingers on his tongue and he keeps cursing out the stranger from before that gave him the drink. 'That hag! When I see them again, I'll beat them for this!... But wait, something feels different... I feel refreshed for some reason...' His body has never felt so light and refreshed as the purest water. 'Hey.. my dantian feels so much better...' he realises when he figured that out.

"Maybe I'll considering being more merciful if we ever meet again." Then he remembered the taste of the drink, "Maybe not."

[yandere-daydreams]

I think you definitely deserve to write all the filthy things about Alastor. But more important, you referring to your own status as cannon is so brilliant I'm kinda obsessed

i haven't had a chance to watch hazbin yet (although i am slowly reconstructing the entire series via tiktok clips and text posts), but i am transfixed by that sopping wet paper bag of a man. i also think there's a certain je ne sais quoi to writing smut for characters who would rather die than remove a single layer of clothing that only people who would also rather die than removed a single layer of clothing can bring to the table. it's like,,, nonsexual smut. abstinence only porn. erotica written by a nun in the fourteenth century. everybody gets off but nobody touches each other. give me a chance to get past my furry era and then i'll explain via the aforementioned nun erotica.