#the sellable home

[sh-inaam]

Modern Living Room San Diego Living room - small modern enclosed carpeted living room idea with gray walls

[astramachina]

if there is one piece of advice that i could offer writers that aspire to get traditionally published, is that when people say the industry is wholly subjective, they are 100% correct and coming to terms with this is the difference between continuing on and just breaking.

whenever i'm not getting automated rejection messages, agents who actually take the time to explain why they're passing on the manuscript (a HUGE rarity but i've been lucky this round) makes you realize real quick that it really does boil down to "actually, i just didn't vibe with it".

i keep seesawing between wanting to scrap or keep my opening chapters, and so far it's been pretty 50/50 between there's too much going on, and, there's not enough going on on most of these rejections.

the most bewildering comment i've gotten so far was that there wasn't enough worldbuilding in the opening chapters. not enough worldbuilding. in a horror novel. a contemporary horror novel. something that goes against every standard regardless of genre.

like, zoinks scoob. it's all good. i'm confused, but we're chill about it.

[goatsorcery]

reasons i never want to be a home owner:

i doubt i'll ever be in a position where i'll have enough mental/physical energy to hold a full time job and do regular yard work

the idea of having to pay for constant repairs and replacements makes my wallet shake in fear

the process of maintaining and fixing up a house so that it's in shape enough to sell also would cost more money than ill ever have

there's no guarantee that a house will be worth more when sold than when bought, even with all the repairs to make it sellable

most mortgages are cheaper per month than rent, but the total cost of maintaining a house (with taxes, repairs, utilities) is often more than rent

[yanderenightmare]

TW: yandere, classism, degradation, possessiveness, obsessiveness, blackmail

gn reader - feminine clothing (jewelry: earrings, necklace)

Thinking about your rich boyfriend…

Rich boyfriend – who buys you clothes and jewelry every time you have a date, even when you tell him you feel bad receiving them all – that you have nowhere to wear such nice things – that a simple date is really more than enough. 

Rich boyfriend – who ignores you with a smile and shake of his head, asking you how you expect him to stop when you’re just the absolute cutest? Looking at him with those moon-big eyes, humble crinkle between your brows, and your lip tucked nervously between your teeth to keep from gawking. 

Rich boyfriend – who orders for you at all the restaurants he takes you to because he knows you’ve never been anywhere like it. Looking so adorably lost in your seat, flushed when staring at the menu written in a language you can’t read – knowing even if you could, you still wouldn't know what any of it meant. You’re so, so, so precious – eyes peeled like you’re a pet who’s just been allowed at the table for the first time.

Rich boyfriend – who plays four instruments, speaks five languages, went to an Ivy League institution, and will inherit his entire family’s business being the spoiled only child that he is.

Rich boyfriend – who just loves the messy household you grew up in – loves how you and your siblings interact with each other, looking like a bundle of pups all crammed in the same cage at a pet store – how your childhood bedroom is the size of his closet – filled with all sorts of trinkets you’ve kept growing up – stuff that would usually wind up in the trash at his house – polaroids of you as a teenager, past boyfriends in kissing booths, prom pictures, concert tickets, and old rusty friendship lockets. 

It’s all so… He scoffs. The word for it escapes him.

Suppose he doesn’t quite recognize the pricelessness of sentimental value as opposed to something actually sellable – but he finds it cute that you do. 

Though, it bothers him to some degree as well… that you would value an old pair of earrings gifted you by your grandmother instead of the actual antique diamond pair he’d procured for you. After all, one was a real historic piece worth a fortune a Russian duchess had snuck into England during the war, and the other was old junk made by a noname jeweler.

Rich boyfriend – who chokes on his spit when you sit him down and tell him you want to break up – who thinks he’s misheard – that you’re joking, playing some uncultured game he’s never been exposed to, some ill-taste past-time only poor people do to escape their bitter reality. 

But you’re not joking… 

You’re breaking up with him…You.. You… broke trash of worker-class scum… you’re breaking up with him?

You give him back all his gifts in a cardboard box – telling him you’re grateful but that you truly don’t have any use for such things – that you think your worlds are too different to coincide. 

Of course, you refrain from telling him you think he’s a classist snob. You have a feeling it would have gone completely over his head if you’d tried anyway, so there really was no point to it.

Rich ex-boyfriend – who’s never been told no in his entire life…

Rich ex-boyfriend – who buys your street and plans on scrapping it to make brand new mansions in a project he dubs “cleaning up the slums” – evicting and putting you and your entire family out of the home you’d spent your entire life growing up in.

Rich ex-boyfriend – who thinks you’re crawling back to him when you schedule an appointment at his office – who thinks you’re going to come in with bleary wet eyes and grovel like the lowly peasant you are – let him save you from poverty and homelessness, make you his charity case – his pretty diamond in the rough who’s never quite able to wash all the coal off.

Rich ex-boyfriend – who trashes that same office when you leave after having given him the address to the pawnshop you sold the one pearl necklace you’d kept as a token of your relationship – telling him he should feel free to go down there and get it back – that you’re using the money to buy a better house and you just wanted to come and thank him for that. 

Of course, you wanted to slap him too – spit on his tie or maybe just take a piss on his desk – but you left it at that.

Rich ex-boyfriend – whose next move is to buy your family business, who hires a private eye to dig up dirt on you and all your family, burying you in fines from age-old petty crimes, gets you kicked from your scholarship.

Rich ex-boyfriend – who goes to that pawnshop and reports the pearl necklace as a stolen item and has the police arrest you. Spinning a story about how he thought you were this humble sweet thing, only for you to rob him behind his back.

Rich ex-boyfriend – who comes to visit you in the custody suite where you sit cooped up with all the other wretched mutts on the cold concrete floors – scolding you for making him come down to a dirty police precinct, for having him breathe the same air as all the lowlives held up there.

Rich ex-boyfriend – who tells you he’ll make it all go away.

He’ll drop the charges, let your family keep their house – or buy them an even better one, whichever you prefer – he’ll even promote your family business and pay for all your siblings' education – he’ll give you everything. 

Anything you want, it’s yours.

But he owns you.

BNHA – Bakugou, Shoto, Dabi, Hawks, Overhaul

JJK – Sukuna, Gojo, Naoya

HQ – Oikawa, Sakusa, Miya twins

BLLK – Reo, Rin

HxH – Illumi

[hidden-poet]

Commander Snow

Summary; Under the advice of Dr Gaul Coriolanus returns back to district 12 where without blinding light of lucy-grey he could see you.

Warnings; dead dove to do not eat, stalking, unrequited love, breeding kink, violence, possessive!Snow, unco/dubco, sexual content, she/her pronouns, explicit.

chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

chapter Four

You got the shoe back to the grieving mother. Helped her bury it before you got home and rested your tired eyes.

It was over. He let you leave.

But a pestering feeling told you that it wasn't true. That instead you had just painted a target on you back.

You walked to work the next morning with the same feeling. You tried to shake it. Peacekeepers would have knocked down your door last night if he ordered. He wasn't going to grab you now. It was over.

But as you saw you boss guarding the entrance to work, you knew it wasn't.

You tried to pass her anyway. maybe commander Snow had taken the Panems back off her and all she wanted from you was payback.

You reach the bottom of the steps but your boss blocks the entry to your work. Dread pools your stomach. Without this job, you and your mum don't eat.

She was only 5-foot but her fiery personality, and dark features made up for her short frame.

"I never thought you were stupid" she spat.

"I've got to get to work".

She steps forward to stop you, "You already know there's no work here for you".

"Six years I've worked for you. Never turned up late. Never took a day off. And now with a click of his fingers you wanna toss me aside? I never thought you were a coward". You snap back.

In the six years you worked for her you never rose your voice at her. Always gave in to her demands to work late, do something outside of your job description.

"Anyone not a coward to Commander Snow is dead. You're looking to end up the same way".

"Commander Snow!" you heard a voice holler from behind the door. She popped her head out to show Vanessa. She was a pretty girl with long red hair and blue eyes.

"I heard you were receiving parcels from a peacekeeper but from Commander Snow! God. I'd let that man root me for free".

"Get to work" Your boss snaps, and Vanessa disappears behind the screen doors. Her laughter following her.

Now sensing sympathy for her loyal worker, your boss takes the journey down the steps coming up beside you, and placing her hands on your shoulders.

''Can i give you a piece of advice; men love the chase but hate the catch''.

You pull back from her stunned that she would suggest such a thing to you.

"It could be worse" She continues, "Uglier men. Men who take with nothing in return. He could prove to be useful to your survival".

You shake your head no. You had never even flirted before. You were so timid, you needed someone gentle and kind for your first time. Coriolanus Snow was no such man.

Your boss nods back understanding your temperament.

"Maybe he will bore" She tries.

"He will". Your voice was shaky and unsure.

"Good luck until then". Your boss turns from you and walks back up the stairs.

You feel your chest tighten as you turn and walk home. You still had two panams that would keep the house afloat for at least two months on a stingy budget.

But you were unsure how much patience that the commander had. Could he outlast you. Would his infatuation run you dry in time. What then if not?

Your mother wage could cover the rent but not much more. You had a few candles, a few sellable things. But who would buy them for what they were worth. Had Coriolanus got the message to all the community that you were to suffer.

You move past people in the opposite direction going to work as you walked. You kept your head down ashamed until you made it to your gate.

Only the opened letterbox lifted your sprits. You reach in pulling out a thin letter with a re-attached capital seal. Your brother had always been resourceful and smart. The letter would not have even left district 8 if not for the seal.

You peel it off carefully, planning to re-attach it once you had enough money to send the letter back.

The letter itself did nothing for your confidence.

The first line demanded to know why your letter had a capital seal. He called you silly if you stole it, and stupid if you traded for it. He reprimanded you for sending the coins which he sent back. He was fine in district 8 and didn't need any help. You only had one job; look after yourself and look after mum. It seemed to him you were failing, consorting with Peacekeepers. If he was still around he would smack you until you saw sense. Stay away from Peacekeepers and look after yourself, the last line read,

I love you, Archie.

You fold the letter, keeping the coins in your hand. He always knew what to do even if he had no idea about the circumstances. You thumb the place where your ring was suppose to be, wishing you fought harder to keep it.

The door was already unlocked as you reached it and you called out surprised.

"Mum?".

You hear cries coming from her bedroom and you rush to get to her.

"Mum!" you call again.

"Bernard fired me" She sobbed on her bed. You sit on the edge and pat her back.

"Mum, I am so sorry. This is all my fault".

She doesn't deny it but places a warm hand on your knee.

"We're going to be ok. It won't last forever" You console. You were going to beat him at his own game. You could endure, you've been doing it all your life.

"Look what Archie sent" You showed her the coins in you palm. She smiles at you through her tears and you smile back.

You would endure.

He would bore.

You hold your Saturday market stall using the last of your ingredients.

You had only just started but sold four cakes already. You smile brightly at your customer passing him the brown bag. But he doesn't take it, scurrying off.

The Peacekeeper coming up explains it. He picks up a cake and expects it before throwing it to the ground. Four more peacekeepers come up, and start going through your things.

You stand still with the bag pressed to your chest. You wanted to protest but interfering with peacekeeper work was punishable by whip.

You watch as they turn violent. Throwing over your table and stomping on the baked goods. They kick at your things until they break.

You watch them as he watched you.

You hadn't realized he was there until one of the peacekeepers addressed him asking what was to be done about your money box.

His blue eyes remained on you. "Take it".

All of your days profit and your change was taken.

He stands tall in his commanders uniform, his hat upon his head, and hands in his pocket as the peacekeepers left a mess.

You stare at each other until he calls them off. There was nothing left to destroy. Their time there was now wasted.

He takes a step to you as they went back to the van through the parted audience.

You expected him to say something as he nears but his lips never parted. Instead he takes the brown bag from your hands and follows his men to the van.

You stare at your ruined things but don't cry. It was going to take more than that.

You were going to endure.

You got some work on the side doing laundry. Your clients underpaid you and you had to deliver in the dead of night, but the supplement income took the pressure off.

You had to rebuild your stall, but now that word got out that Commander Snow had it out for you everything tripled in price. No one was willing to be labeled a traitor by him for the going rate of materials.

Food was also tripled. But you didn't tell your mother that. Choosing to tell her you had a reduced appetite given the circumstances.

You had found a macadamia tree behind a row of houses to pick from. You went late afternoon to avoid being seen as you tried and fill your belly.

You stood there now. Plucking the small nuts off the large tree. You had to climb the base, already have taken the lower hanging offerings. You deshelled some, putting them in a pouch for the walk home.

You had been there for nearly an hour but your basket was only a quarter full. It would take another hour to crack all the nuts out of their shells before you could eat them to your full. Your belly ached at the thought.

"Careful you don't fall". Your foot slipped at the voice.

There was no one around to watch you pick the nuts so no one around to hear you scream.

"What did I just tell you" He scolded.

You look down from the tree to see him staring back. He had you crawling higher up but he caught your foot and tugged you gently down. As you lowered yourself he held the deseeding body part as if he was tugging down on a rope.

First your ankle, then your calf, your thigh, your hip, the your upper arm before finally resting on the side of your neck.

In his other hand he held a capital issued duffle bag, and his fingers curled around an apple.

You push off the tree away from him and he lets you.

"What do you want" You ask.

"I heard you were washing laundry" he threw the duffle bag at your feet, "I'll pay double what everyone else is paying".

"I am booked out" you lied. As the series of events escalated people were too scared to even cheat you of work. You had lost two clients just yesterday.

"a trade then" he smiles and it puts you more on edge, "an apple for 10 minutes of your time".

He holds up the apple in his hand. You eye it hungrily. It was red and large, looking juicy in his hand. But you couldn't bare the thought of spending a minute in his presence let alone 10.

"5 minutes" you try.

He smirks, brining up the apple to his teeth and taking a large bite.

"10" he resolves, chewing the apple.

He could see how hungry you were. Your eyes never leaving the apple.

You nod slowly, walking up and taking the apple from his hand. You retreat as soon as you take it, going back to your place.

"You look tired. Have you been sleeping?".

You were right the apple was juicy and delicious. He waits for your answer, not moving on.

"Hard to sleep when you're hungry". You take another bite of the apple, avoiding where he bit.

'You miss my packages" He said it as more a statement then a question. He said it pridefully as if he was proud that you were starving without him.

"Not even a little bit, Sir". it was the truth. The care packages scared you more then anything.

"I miss my job, I miss my stall".

Your answer perplexed him. His strong features locked, and his body tensed.

"Yes, well self-inflected" he dismissed.

You were finally forced to eat the side he bit and he watched with eager eyes as you did.

"Will you sit?" he gestures to the steps of the old house. There was only three of them but they were long and looked stable.

You do take a seat and he follows you.

Once seated, he places his head on your lap, laying down along the step. It causes you to jump up and he lift his head in an uncomfortable position as his cushion jumped away.

He sits back up on the step and reaches for something in his breast pocket. He pulls out a peanut chocolate candy bar. They were popular in the capital and Tigress thought he might want to try them in her care package she sent.

He had no interest but knew you would.

"Here you want this?" it was wrapped in shiny plastic, "All you have to do is sit and let me rest".

You shook the feeling off and returned to your seat. If he tried anything you could just move again.

You tear open the bar, ripping it in half and putting the remainder in your pocket for your mother.

he rests his head down and lays quietly.

"todays the anniversary of my mothers death. Both her and my sister died in child birth together".

he had wanted some condolences. Maybe for her to stoke his face and tell him to sleep.

But she scoffed at him. "last week was the anniversary of little leo lerman's pa. It will always been the day you hung him".

Little Leo Lerman's pa was a traitor to the capital, his mother was a victim of the war they started.

"I've had a long journey back from the Capital. If you can't be kind, you can be quiet".

"I thought you were away" you comment.

"I went back to the Capital for a few days. Returned this morning".

A funeral for a old academy school mate required him to return home. He had to look in touch with Capital matters. But truth being told, he never cared for the man who died. Couldn't remember even talking to him, only ever speaking over him in class when he gave the wrong answer. He was used once more to make Coriolanus look good.

He was glad to see Tigress and Grandma'am too. They both swooned over commander Snow in his uniform. It was nice to be doted over but still didn't itch the need he had. If anything it only grew it.

He longed to return to you. He had hopped that his effort were enough and he would return to you begging for his forgiveness.

Hearing you now noticing his absence gave him a renewed confidence that you would fold sooner rather than latter.

You had only noticed his absence due to the halting of your suffering. No more being stopped and searched by every peace keeper who crossed your path. The 10pm door knocking to check you were home stopped. People even began to talk to you again. You were beginning to think it was over until moments ago.

You chew on the candy, looking around to see even a shadow of a person.

"I heard a rumor while you were gone that you were a peacekeeper in district 12 before commander".

"Most Commanders are Peacekeepers first."

Your hand clutched the railing ready to pull yourself up. But first your gnawing question had to be answered.

"And that while you were a peacekeeper you ran about with a girl named Lucy-grey". His eyes shoot open upon her name. dead and still ruining his life.

"Expect Lucy-grey went missing, and no one's heard from her since".

He sits up and leans against his knees, "It's just a rumor".

You jump back to your feet now the weight of him was off you. Getting as much distance as you can. He reaction confirmed it for you.

"I don't want to disappear" you admit, your eyes tearing up. Your family would never recover. Especially your brother.

He gets up with you, closing the space you created and taking your face into his hands despite your struggle against him.

"And you won't, okay. I never even knew Lucy-grey".

He was going to find whoever told you about her and string them up.

He could see the panic in your eyes, and he wanted to stamp it out.

"It's just a district rumor" he consoles.

The look in his eyes told you the truth.

"No it ain't".

You pull free from him, grabbing you basket as he stood frozen.

"i owe you an apple". You try and move past him, unable to spend any more time in his presence but he grabs your arm and flings you back into the macadamia tree.

You gasp as you make impact. It was a beautiful sound to Coriolanus's ears. He would have enjoyed it if he hadn't been so angry.

"Who do you think you are walking away from me?" his hands reach your throat applying pressure. It wasn't enough to cut your air supply completely off but it was enough to make it difficult to breathe.

You struggle underneath him, trying to push him off.

"I am Commander Snow, you are district scum. You think i am going to let district scum treat me this way?"

His hold tightens as he shakes you a little bit.

"Are you mad? bringing up lucy-grey. mocking the death of my mother."

this was not his sweet girl that plagued his mind.

"Get off me!" you scream at him with all the breath you had left.

His hand comes down. One-two-three times across your face. Tears fill your eyes from the stinging sensation but he doesn't relent.

This was the man who ruled district 12. He wouldn't have to make you disappear he could just leave your body were it laid.

Your hand reaches out, touching his neck and it stilled him from his rage.

"Stop" you beg, "I am sorry. I didn't mean to".

You feel his fingers loosen from your neck, and you take gasps of air while you can.

"I am sorry" you say again and his hands rest on your collar bone rather then your neck.

He lifts one hand up stoking your cheek,

"That bruise will never heal if you keep this up".

"I know". You wrap your hands around his wrist. He seems receptive to your touch.

Keeping his hands on your collar bone he rests his forehead on you.

You needed to get away from him. His temper flared so quickly, you were sure to make a mistake that would lead to his hands reaching for your neck again.

If codling kept him kind then you were going to lay it on thick until you were back to safety.

You rub his back like he was a child, while your other arm laid across his shoulders.

He presses further into you, moving his hands so there wrapped around your waist.

It looked like a lovers embrace but you felt like a mouse in the mouth of a snake.

Commander Snow was a mummy's boy, you learnt. It seemed logical that he was trying to replace the hole she left.

"Can you walk me home?" you ask. The walk home was nearly 15 minutes but you knew of you tried to leave without him again, his anger would flare back up.

You feel his nose rubbing your skin as he nods but he doesn't move.

"come on" You urge pushing against him. He straightens, heaving off you and picking up the basket you dropped and the duffle bag he threw.

He held out his hand to you, and you take it without hesitation.

You walk behind the houses to avoid being seen together. He leads and you trail slowly behind him.

Your eyes drop with tears from the pain of your cheek. He only notices when you snuffle.

It halts him in his tracks. He turns to you, wiggling his hand free and wiping away your tears.

"Hey, I am not angry anymore" he consoles.

You nod your head, taking his hand back in yours and coaxing him forward again. You were almost home. Just a few more meters.

Night had just begin to overtake the sky as you saw your house come into view. You let go of Coriolanus hand and press yourself against a neighbors house as man covered in coal returns from work.

You had expected that he would leave you at the gate but he continues past it, staying just behind you as you reach the steps of your house.

"Thank you for walking me home, Commander". You reach for your basket but he keeps it out of your grip.

"I'll bring it in side for you".

You freeze at his words. The last thing you want is for him to enter your home were he would be given free reign to do what he wanted behind closed doors. At least out in the open you had a chance of a good Samaritan coming to your aid.

But you couldn't tell him that.

You nod instead. Unlocking your door you turn to him.

"Could you check the mail for me?"

His hand touches your elbow as he turns, "Of course".

You wait for him to open the empty mail box at the end of your house before you rush inside. Locking the door behind you. You double check the windows on the side, ensuring they are well secured.

He heard the door slam and turned back up the drive. He tries the door nob to see it locked. If he was upset he didn't show it, keeping his face emotionless.

He walks to the window where you stood, eyeing you through the glass.

"vanessa lives by the lake. House 1-02" He begins to eat the de-shelled macadamias that you planned to have for dinner.

"she's very pretty and less troublesome then me. You'll like her".

He smiles a tight smile, no longer looking at you he turns, tipping your basket as he walks back to the gate. You would pick the nuts up later for dinner.

You felt as if you won watching him walk away. You bested him today.

But he didn't want Vanessa, he wanted you.

No one was willing to have their clothes washed by you. He must have figured out your clients, and scared them into submission.

With the loss of income, you were forced to use your savings that were fleeting fast with the rising prices.

The macadamia tree was no more. He had cut it down to a stump the next day. You only had a small basket left to last you.

Your mother was depressed by the isolation of the community. She rarely left the house, unable to beg for a job any longer.

You tired to lift her spirt by using the last of your flour to make her a small cupcake. You surprised her with it after dinner.

She hadn't even taken a bite before the sound of a van pulling up was heard. You both froze waiting for what was next.

Peacekeepers knocked down the door, coming in full force in a single file.

One grabs you and pushes you against the wall while the others tear apart your house. You feel his hands upon you as he searches for valuables upon your body.

Your mother is subjected to the same treatment by another.

A tight hold on your neck kept you from turning but you could hear the house being turned over. Crashing sounds could be heard from every direction. Smashes from things being broken, sounds of cheering as they found something valuable.

One had taken your mums silver necklace that was gifted by your dad just before he died. She had beg the Peacekeeper to leave it but you knew their orders were to reek havoc.

Breaking up the sound of looting was a drill. You could see out of the corner of your eye that a peacekeeper was taking your door.

You yelled but it was drowned out by the sound.

Once it was off its hinges, the peacekeepers released you and your mum, beginning to return to their truck with the door and your valuables.

You rush to your bedroom, falling to your knees seeing that the loose floor board panels that you hid your savings under was opened.

You and your mum were officially destitute.

The open door way let the cold air and bugs in. You had put up a old blanket but it did little.

It also didn't offer you any protection from unwanted visitors.

Coriolanus walked right past the blanket into your home. You shoot up from the table. Standing in front of the hallway to block him from going any further into your home.

"what are you doing here"

"I came to see if you had changed your mind about apologizing. I thought coming to the compound might have been a little scary for you".

He takes a step forward coming across to you. His head turns as he examines the damage his peacekeepers did.

"i want my door back" you demanded.

"I want my apology". He continues to you

"an apology for what? look at my house". He backs you into the wall

"an apology for treating me so cruelly".

"get out" you demanded.

"Are you sure you want to do this? It doesn't have to be this way".

"get out of my house" you repeat.

He places a hand on the wall next to you, leaning in. You feel his hand on caressing your cheek.

"you showed me the other day what a sweet girl you can be. Must i wring it from you?".

You think about shouting for your mother. She took to lying down in her bed to starve off the cold. But you worried for her safety if you did.

His stoking hand stopped, bracing itself against the side of your face.

He leans his head closer, his lips brushing yours. You knew what was coming next, and tried to move your head out of the line of attack.

He takes a stronger hold on your chin to keep you in place, and kisses you with the same hunger as the night against the wall.

He comes back for more before he had fully pull apart his lips from yours.

'Commander Snow". Your mother voice broke his kiss, and he turns to see her in the living room.

"Ma'am" he greets.

He doesn't move from you, unashamed as your mother glares down at him.

"What an honor it is to have you in our home" She pulls out a chair at the kitchen table for him. One of three that didn't break. "Can i offer you some water".

"No thank you, Ma'am. I just came to check on your daughter".

"As you can see, she's fine. Thank you, Sir". Your mother walks to the door way, holding up the blanket, " If anything changes I will be sure to let you know. So there's no need to come back down. We would hate to keep you from your important duties".

Commander Snow scoffs at the women. She was a bad influence on you.

He turns back to you and places a quick, deep kiss on your lips before following his directions to the door.

"No trouble at all. I'll be back to ensure the safety of you both" he pins your mother under his stare as he spoke, "District 12 is a dangerous place".

"Good night, Commander" your mother voice wavers.

"Ma'am" he nods in her direction and disappears behind the sheet.

Your mother rushes to you once he goes, pulling you into her arms. You were too frozen to hug back.

You knew your mother was going to pay for her interference.

But as peacekeepers invaded your house once more and dragged her down the road. You had no idea what awaited her.

You shout at them to get off her. Hitting and pulling the Peacekeeper that had her.

People come out from their houses at the noise. Watching as the women is pulled to the town center with her daughter carrying on behind her.

You feel arms secure you to a chest and you turn expecting to see Coriolanus giving you an out only to find a faceless peacekeeper.

You beg him to let your mother go but he continues silently, pushing you along.

You watch as they lock her on the whipping post.

"Commander Snow" you yell out for the only man who could stop this but he was no where to be found, "Commander Snow".

You scream as the whip came down upon your mother.

The cries of your mother will forever be engrained in your brain. You stood helpless as you watched her be whipped unconscious. Only then was she unlocked from the post and the peacekeepers moved the crowd on.

You rushed to her as the Peacekeeper released you. You cradled her head in your lap. it was you who should have been whipped. You wished you could have taken it for her. But he knew the only way to hurt you was to hurt the people you loved.

Your friend, Lydia saw the ordeal and helped you get your mother back to the house. You didn't have anything that could help her. The best you could do was clean the blood with water which caused her to wake from the pain and put her to bed.

"it's my fault, Lydia" you cry reaching out to hold her but she retreats from you.

"I am so sorry. I can't be seen with you". she rushes back to the entry way, "I shouldn't have even helped with your mother".

You fall to your knees as you watch her leave. You were utterly alone.

Your mother is bed ridden from the pain. Unable to eat or sleep. Two nights later, you receive a letter from him. In it was two small bottles of morphling.

I have what you need. Come see me

-C

The note read.

You rush to your mother giving her the small bottle. It worked instantly to relieve her pain. You stroke her head as she sleeps.

You remember what your boss has said; men love the chase but hate the catch.

Perhaps if you let him take what he wanted it would mark the end of this torture. You wouldn't be the first women to loose your virginity to a peacekeeper. the consequences weren't worth the effort in keeping it.

Your pride lumped itself in your throat, and you forced yourself to swallow it.

The next morning you gave your mother her breakfast and second dose of morphling before rushing over to your bosses house. You knew she was the only one who would see you.

She doesn't allow you in but greets you on the front porch.

"Have you come to your senses?" she asks.

"He whipped my mother"

"I heard. What do you plan to do about it?".

"The only thing I can" your voice was low and soft but she heard you.

"What do you need?"

"Two cups of sugar and a cup of flour".

She goes back inside and returns with your request. You could feel her neighbors staring out at you from their windows.

She comes down to the steps to where you stood and you take the whole pouches of ingredients.

"Thank you", Your boss was not known for being generous.

"When he is done, come round and i'll pour you a drink".

You nod your head unable to form a thought.

"Oh and Y/N, relax. It will hurt less the less you fight it".

She offers a comforting hand on your back, but you shake it off quickly to return home.

You make a batch of brownies with the ingredients.

You give a small patch to your mother and box the rest up in your basket.

You had showered and prepared yourself. Putting on your nicest dress, a soft blue one that ties into a bow in middle of your back. You borrow your mother worn black high heels, and brush your hair a hundred times.

You feel your pride bubble back in your throat as you reach the compound. You have to push it back down to give the guarding peacekeeper your name.

He repeats it into his communicator and the gate swings open.

You follow the guard to the well known building to see Coriolanus waiting at the bottom step.

He dismisses the Peacekeeper as he takes your basket from you and places a hand on your back.

"Thank you for seeing me, Commander". You talk to him as he leads you to his office.

"I was going to visit tonight. Is everything ok?"

You stare at him. He was so detached from his actions.

"I wanted to apologize for my behavior".

You reach his large oak doors, which he opens for you.

"i am glad to hear it" he follows you in.

"Are these for me?" he asks looking through your basket.

"yes'' you answer.

He pulls out one of the chairs for you to sit in, choosing to lean against the desk as he eats the brownie.

"These are good" he praises, taking another bite.

"I used the macadamias".

He reaches into the basket and offers you one. You decline it.

"I don't think i could ever eat another one. It took a hundred just to keep me semi full".

He nods in understanding, putting it back. He leans forward over you as he speaks.

"one time during the war, I ate a whole jar of paste just to stop the pain in my stomach".

"that must have been awful".

he feels his heart lurch at her words. Finally sympathy. How he longed for it. For someone to care about his suffering.

But he tried to remain nonchalant. Not wanting her to think he was weak.

He shrugs his shoulders, "it was a long time ago".

He brushes his hand together, clasping them shut on his lap.

"So your apology. Lets hear it".

You thought you already had done it with the brownies but he wanted you to grovel some more.

That pesky pride bounces in your chest. But no, you wouldn't let it interfere. Your mother needed the morphling not only for the pain relief but to warn off infection.

"Commander Snow I-"

"Coriolanus" He interrupts.

"Coriolanus" you start again, "I don't know what came over me".

You don't look him in the eyes, keeping your eyes on his shiny shoes. You can't. But you can feel him looking at you.

"My actions are not reflective of the respect I hold for the capital".

The flex of his shoe tells you that he was unpleased with you apology.

"Or you". Yes, the shoe pointed back down. He wanted the focus on him.

"If you can find it in your heart to forgive me. I would never repeat my actions again. You would have my undivided loyalty for your kindness".

He stands up going to his desk chair and folding his hands on top. You eyes rise to watch him. You half expect him to pick up the phone and call a peacekeeper in.

"If you are after my forgiveness you have it. But if you are after my services there are no longer free".

You press your legs together and repeat your mantra; men love the chase but hate the catch.

It was time to be caught. You rise from your chair to stand in front of him. He angles his chair to face you. His legs brush against yours.

"My mother needs morphling". Would it be hint enough.

It seemed to be as he places his hand on your hip.

"And what do you need?". He tugs you down with his hold on your hip and you land awkwardly between his legs. You hold yourself up on the arm of his chair.

"Morphling," you answer. You face was inches away from his. The closest you've ever been without his hands wrapped around your neck.

"Maybe to not have to eat macadamias again?"

His smile throws you off guard. You find yourself dazzled by his straight white teeth poking out behind his plump lips.

"A new dress perhaps?". His hand goes to its favorite place on the side of your face and you can feel his thumb moving back and forth.

"Morphling" you repeat and it earns a laugh from him.

He loved that your needs came second to everyone else's. To his.

"Okay, morphling," he laughs, "What are you willing to trade for morphling? It's not easy to come by".

"Anything". This was it. You would loose you virgnity on the floor of the Commanders office for a case of morphling.

"hm" he muses. He picks up your right hand from the arm of the chair and wraps it around his neck. It throws you off balance.

"How about dinner?". You look at him. Maybe the floor didn't suit a man of his stature. Too animalistic.

"Where?". Did he want to go to a backroom of the hob?

"Your place".

"Tonight?". You had nothing to cook.

"Tomorrow". You still doubted your ability to find something. You doubt your boss would extend her kindness anymore, and all your friends had deserted you until it all blew over.

"do you like macadamias?". You think you still had a handful left. Did it matter. He wasn't truly coming to eat.

"They taste like paste in my mouth", he leans forward and presses a button asking someone to bring in the box.

"I'll be there around 6:30. Keep your mother in the backroom. I don't think she likes me very much".

"She can't even get out of bed" you admit.

He reaches into his draw, pulling out two small bottles of morphling.

"These won't help that but will ease the pain".

You take them fast. "Thank you".

"They aren't free. You owe me".

You jump as you hear the door open. Getting off him, just in time for a women in grey to enter with a small box. Coriolanus remains in a relaxed position in his chair.

"Commander" she greets as she places the box on the table and walks away. You peer into the box to see a small lot of vegetables, a bag of apples, two pears and a small bundle of meat wrapped up in parchment.

"For dinner tomorrow night".

He gets up from his chair taking the box with him, and directs you to the door with a hand on your shoulder.

"Now as much as I have loved seeing you. I have to get to a meeting, and you have to get home".

He leads you back through the building and down the steps to were peacekeepers were loading up into their van for night patrolling.

You buck against him as he pushes you to the van. You felt safer making your own way home.

They salute him, halting their process.

"14 Cherry lane", he nods in your direction. A young peacekeeper nods back.

He places the box on the floor of the van so he had two hands to lift you up. You protest telling him you could get home yourself but you were grabbed by a series of hands and placed on the bench

The men stood, hanging on to the material of the roof to avoid sitting down next to you. You felt safer at least knowing that they were too sacred of Coriolanus to touch you.

The leader of the group, dressed in smarter uniform comes to Coriolanus and confirms it will be done with a salute. Coriolanus pays him no mind, handing the box back up to you.

Two Peacekeepers lock the gate in and the van takes off. Coriolanus watches it go, and you watch him get smaller and smaller as you pass the boundary out of the compound.

The van ride is bumpy and silent. The men look out for protentional danger and you look out for familiar landmarks to track how far you were off.

You see a large red sign that marks the beginning of your neighborhood.

"wait, just here, please" the sound of the van would have the neighborhood looking out the window, and after tonight the judgemental looks of your negibours would be too much to bear.

The driver pulls over and the same peacekeepers unlock the gate for you. As soon as you jump out the van takes back off and your grateful for the darkness that covers you.

You walk back in your uncomfortable high heals. They snag every rock as you walk, and your ankle twists so many times you loose count.

Tomorrow night he would come, and it would all be over.

The next morning Peacekeepers come and reinstall your door. It was a welcomes surprised that earnt a few head nods from your community. It was a mark of the end. Things were returning to normal.

The new door even allowed you to trade the two pears for some pastry and 2 eggs. People were no longer afraid to do business with you.

You spend the rest of the day baking an apple pie for desert, tending to your mother who could now eat and bathe without pain, and tiding up the house for your visitor tonight.

You hopped he would bring more morphling. Your mother woke screaming in pain as a bird entered the house without the door and landed on her back. You had to give her the second bottle to ease her. But it left her dry for tonight.

Extra food would be nice too. The box only really fed a meal for two, and he had expected you to prepare dinner for him tonight with it.

You had thought about feeding your mother first and leaving a plate for him. But knew it would upset him. Dinner involved two people eating together. Instead you would only take small bites until he finished his meal and give the rest to you mother once he leaves.

You wouldn't be able to eat much with the anxiety in your belly anyway. But you assured yourself it would be fine.

He would come and take. And tomorrow morning you would go to work, and then your mothers work to earn both wages. With that and a tightened budget you could afford black market morphling, until that too was just a bad memory.

5 o'clock comes and you busy yourself with cooking and cleaning. When that was finished you dressed yourself back in your best dress and mothers shoes. Your feet cried as the shoes pressed down on the sores they made.

You stare at the clock until it hits 6:30. he didn't appear out of thin air. You wait at the table still.

It hits 6:31 and you think maybe he changed his mind. But a hard knock at the door tells you he hadn't.

You don't keep him waiting. he was an impatient man, and you also didn't want people to see him on your porch.

You yank open the door to see him standing tall in his official uniform and another small box in his hands. His smell hit you instantly. It was fresh and masculine. It was the first time you didn't hold your breathe around him, and his smell invades your nose.

Checking behind him for a peacekeeper van, you found none. Did he walk here, you wondered. But there wasn't a drop of sweat on him. It was unlikely.

"Hello" He greets.

You step back to let him in. He juggles the box in one hand while the other closes the door behind him.

'Hi" you return half-heartedly.

He offers you the box and you take it to the kitchen. He follows you like a lost dog, never allowing more then an inch between you as you walk.

'Dinner's ready. If you're hungry". You look through the box digging for the morphling, but disappointment fills you as you fail to find it.

"Starving" he responds.

He turns you towards him by your hips and smashes his lips down upon yours. he is a needy kisser, trapping your bottom lip between his teeth to stop you from moving before returning to your top lip to restart the kiss.

He pulls way breathless.

'For the morphling, yesterday" He justifies with a peck to your cheek.

What about the morphling, today, you wanted to ask but you weren't sure how he would respond to the question.

Instead you tell him to take a seat at the table and you would bring it out to him.

He sits as he is told. You set two places across from each other. One with their back to the wall leaving the other to face back from the door. Coriolanus takes a seat at the one facing the door. It allowed him to watch you in the kitchen as you plate the food.

He drags the other place mat across the table and seats it next to his. Traditional face to face dinning would not do tonight.

You come over with the plates, noticing the new arrangement. You go with it. Tonight would be about what he wanted.

"It smells amazing. Thank you". He praises.

You smile a tight smile at him. Unable to form words. Your mother would wake soon in a great deal of pain.

he watches you take small bites of your food while he demolishes his.

Your feet ache under the table, the shoes pressing hard into you. You slip the backs off, letting your heels rest on top.

The air carried a awkward silence. He was eating his food while eyeing you. You could tell he was trying to figure out why you chose to spend ten minutes eating a single potato. He knew how hungry you must be.

You needed to keep him focused on himself.

"I didn't hear a van. Did you walk?". You ask. You push your food to the side to make it look like there was an empty space on your plate.

"I parked it in the woods behind. I heard you asked to be dropped off before your stop last night. Figured you didn't want the attention".

"Thank you" you say earnestly.

"You know" he places some stake into his mouth, "people are going to know about us. Most already do".

Us. There was no us. It was commander Snow and a district girl. Entirely separate.

"you're my girl. People should know it".

Your eyes shoot up to his. No. he was going to catch and release.

"the people here-" you start.

"If some one gives you a hard time, you write their name on a piece of paper for me".

You would never do that. You felt your anger flare up and you stomp it down. The door was closed and your mother was injured. No one would come to your aid if you did something stupid.

"Okay?" He presses.

You nod your head in tune to your mothers crying.

Your head snaps back to the bedroom, and then back to Snow.

he made no offer of morphling, as he ate. You wondered how he could stomach it hearing another person cry out.

"Commander Snow".

You were going to ask, saying no wasn't the worse thing he could do but you were desperate.

"Coriolanus. You can call me Coriolanus in private". He wipes his mouth from his dinner with a handkerchief.

You couldn't call him Coriolanus. It was too familiar. So you just continued your sentence.

"I am very grateful for the food that you brought".

Your sentence filled his eyes with light.

"But" they darken at your ongoing, "I was wondering about the morphling that was promised".

"You think you deserve morphling? I told you favor has to be earnt".

Your mother cries out again, calling out for you.

"How would I earn morphling?" here it was his proposition.

"You could try being nicer to me".

You hands ball in frustration. Just say what you want, you begged, You couldn't be the one to offer it.

"I will. I will be nicer, but could I have the morphling now and then we can go to my bedroom?".

"Why would we do that?"

"Please!" you grunt, lunching onto his arm.

"You think I want to fuck you?".

You mother screams for you to come to her and you dig your nails into his uniform.

'You don't?" what the hell was this all for.

"Not until I get back to the Capital".

You lurch up, holding out you hand.

"Coriolanus please"

"who's to say I brought it?".

You knew he did.

''You're welcome to check". He grins, holding out his arms for a pat down.

A sob from your mother had your hands roaming his uniform. Pressing over his arms, and chest for small pockets that he could hide them in.

You pressed against nothing but soft flesh. You go to his uniform belt that was tight around his waist, checking the small compartments built in. He had taken off his hand gun but his handcuffs were still linked over his belt.

He takes hold of the back of your neck tugging you closer so he could brush his teeth against your throat. He kissed and bit as he pleases while you continued to search.

You shake you head at him, trying to keep you throat from his mouth but his hold tightens, going up to your hair.

You pat along his torso. The Commander peacekeeper uniform was intricate there could be a secret compartment anywhere.

When you get to his pant pocket you feel the shape of the small bottle. You dig into his pocket and he catches your wrist.

You tug back but don't make it far. You beg him to release you. You had found the bottle. You had won.

Your mother calls out for you again and he does release you. Letting you go to her.

You run down the hallway to her bedroom. falling to your knees beside her and uncapping the bottle.

"here" you bring it up to her lips but she doesn't take it.

"is he here" .The darkness of the room covers bites on your neck but she still eyes them like she can see them.

"No, mama. No one is here. Drink".

You tilt the bottle to her lips and she sucks it down hungrily. Her eyes droop as she rests her head back on her pillow. You stoke her hair until they close fully.

You couldn't let you emotions get the better of you. You just had to grin and bare it until he leaves. But now he has left you confused. He told you he didn't want to sleep with you until he's back in the Capital.

You thought you knew what tonight was going to hold but now everything is up in the air. Still, at least you knew he had plans to return to the Capital. You wouldn't have to endure him forever.

He could continue the morphling supply. That would save you having to consort with rebels. If you could avoid making him mad.

With your mother asleep you return to the living room where Coriolanus had started to eat your mothers dinner. If she won out in your attention, she lost out on dinner.

You clear you throat, "Thank you".

He looked pissed in his chair, and you were eager to return him to a good mood.

You clear the empty dinner plates from the table,

"Would you like some desert? I baked apple pie just for you".

He liked being center of attention and you would give him special treatment tonight.

He notices your pained walk to the kitchen. The way your knee slightly buckled as you put weight on your left foot. When you reached for the powered sugar in the top shelf, your foot rose from the heal and he could see the redness from where it rubbed.

You pat the sugar on top of the slice of the apple pie and bring it back over to him at a slow pace.

You place it in front of him. You didn't cut a piece for yourself, your throat hurt from bites.

Still he looked unhappy and you worried as he pushed the bowl away from him, and took you into his arm.

With his chair scraped back he positioned you in front of him, shoving you into a sitting position on top of the table.

His hands trailed down to your shoes, and he took them off, rubbing your sore heals. He knew what it was like to wear shoes that were too small.

He sat rubbing your sore feet, you slightly pull away as his strong hands dug into separated skin.

"What about your desert?" You asked. You had planned to try and send him on his way as soon as he ate it.

You strong finger latched themselves around your ankle and threw it over his shoulder. His other hand pushed your dress up around your hips.

You push his shoulders back as his head came between you thighs.

"you said you wouldn't" you squabble.

"I said I wouldn't fuck you. I didn't say we couldn't do other fun things".

His fingers find their way to your panties and he pulls them off, pocketing them.

"Lay down" he demanded, "i have some more morphling if you're good".

You lay flat against your dinner table and squeeze your eyes shut.

he takes both your knees and hooks them over his broad shoulder, pulling you closer to his mouth.

Your body jolts as he lays his lips across your center. Sucking as if it were a juicy stone fruit. You could feel your own wetness and you felt ashamed. But as your boss had said, there were uglier men out there.

As his first lick lands your hand shot out to his head. If he still had his curls you would have grabbed them but you clutched at air.

He laps and sucks hungrily as you wiggle beneath him. You bite back soft moans. This had never been done to you before, and you had no idea you could feel so good.

You could feel him as he spelt out his name with his tongue. C-the O had your hips bucking-R-I- another hard O and a sound crawled its way from your throat- L-A-N-U- he sucked as he finished the S.

You felt his teeth graze your pearl, giving you a second of pain before he went down and started to poke at your entrance.

He was slow and lazy as he ate you out, keeping your thighs in a strong hold. It felt your stomach form knots as he went up and down. Never letting you fully build from one spot.

You could hear him slurping and moaning as he worked. You tried your best to keep quiet. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing it felt good.

But as you came undone, the orgasm that ripples through you demanded to be known. You hand claws at your own face unsure of what to do while the other clamped down on Coriolanus hand on your thighs.

He added his thumb from his spare hand to your pearl and massaged you through your organism. The over stimulation was too much and you kicked at him to release you.

"Just feel it" he ordered.

You did and it left you spent on table.

"Good girl. You took it well". He tugged you down from the table to the floor beneath him where you sunk.

He undid he belt and you guessed it was his turn.

"Hold out your tongue". You did as he asked poking out your tongue to him.

He freed himself just enough to release his throbbing cock. It stood upright begging for attention. You thought it was going to look scarier, but it could have been your own arousal that soften the member.

He grips your chin, pulling down so your mouth was open as he slowly stokes himself over you.

"Kiss it" he challenged.

You press a soft kiss to his tip and he shudders. Was this all it took for the great commander Snow to crumble.

"Take it" he breathed, "Just the tip".

You take just the first part into your mouth, and he reaches down for your hand. You give it to him and he places it around his cock. He moves your hand for you back and forth.

"Get off" he barks but keeps his hand pressed tightly around yours. You take his mouth off him, and watch as he pumps himself with your hand.

You watch him with his head thrown back and eyes closed. You could see his quick breathes passing through his tummy.

He looks down, seemingly irritated by you, he grabs your hair and yanks it back.

"Open" was the only word he could get out.

You resume your position of sticking your tongue out with your mouth open and he goes back to his state of pleasure.

"That's it, baby" he moans, "like that. Yeah".

His hand over yours quickens and you can see him clutching the arm of the chair.

"Fuck, baby" he says as his milk spills out of him.

The salty taste hits your tongue making you instantly close your mouth. It goes all over the floor and your best dress. Your mothers terrible shoes were safe through.

With his claw still in the back of your head, he maneuvers you out of the way as he bends down and scoops some of his cum off the floor.

He pushes it back into your mouth, through your teeth.

"taste me, baby".

He lets you get up after his fingers are clean. You both straighten out your dress wear. He kicks your chair out for you and you take it. Slumping into it, feeling sick.

He reaches for his pie, taking a bite. He groans in appreciation of its taste. Digging his spoon back for more, he lift it to you.

You stare at him dazed before you eat from his spoon, wanting nothing more then to get the taste of him out of your mouth.

He leaves later on with a kiss goodnight and two more bottles of morphling. Enough to last you until tomorrow night. Where you expected to see him and earn some more.

--------

taglist; @namelesslosers @urfavnoirette

[hellenhighwater]

I'm debating starting a youtube. One of the things I love about learning how to do stuff is sharing the process and skills involved with people and that seems to be the preferred platform for that kind of thing; I find that with a lot of what I'm making it's so niche or weird that there's not easily findable tutorials on how to do what I want to do, so maybe it would help if I made them? Tiktok is okay as a quick and easy way to slap process videos together but I kind of hate it and I also don't like how unsearchable and short-lived content is there.

Youtube would be a lot of work, and I'm not convinced it would be worth the effort, but on the other hand, if I could get some traction there, it would be nice to have passive ad revenue to offset project costs without having to directly sell the random crap I'm making.

I dunno, guys. This site has been home for my art for a long time, and I don't see that changing, but it would be nice to have resources to put into some of the larger projects that aren't directly sellable.

[whimsi-clown]

What's the Best Way to Start a Story? Ah, yes. Death.

Part 1 of the Reverse lsekai Disney Villains x Modern Reader AU

(That I made on a whim)

Warning: Lots of Curse Words and a bit OOC

In a series of unfortunate (or fortunate, depending on how you view things) events, your eccentric rich bitch of an employer had just died.

Sad, I know. But they had it coming. Sorta.

Nobody really liked them. They were, to put it bluntly, an asshole of the highest degree, and they didn't have any living relatives or descendants.

As such, with you being the only person in existence who still stuck by them, gave a shit about them, and had the balls to deal with all of their bullshit, they decided to leave you with their inheritance.

From their large plot of land to their unrealistically big ass mansion with a private beach close by, along with everything inside of it. Money included.

It was all yours for the taking, and you were all too eager to accept.

At this point, you had everything you needed to live the life of your dreams. A large plot of land, a mansion, a near infinite amount of money.

Now, all you needed left in this big and lonely mansion...

Was companionship...

...

Yea, no. We'll skip that for now.

So, with that in mind, after setting down the remaining boxes of your belongings that you had just brought in, you decided to stroll through the halls of the place, eager to familiarize yourself with your new home.

Your eyes perking in interest as you spot a door that you had never seen before, curiously entering it with a new wave of excitement as to what you could find (or possibly sell) on the other side.

Nothing could ruin this day for you!

.

.

.

.

.

Something has just ruined this day for you.

You groaned, dragging your hands down your face as 12 of the most iconic Disney Villains settled on the set of couches before you with crossed arms, disgruntled expressions, and glares aimed your way.

Maleficent sat on the lone couch to your left, while Grimhilde, the evil queen, sat on the other couch to your right, both looking at you with displeased glares.

On the main couch sat Ursula, Cruela De Vil, Dr. Facilier and Jafar. All sharing the same disgruntled expression, like they have better things to do than be in this predicament.

And those who decided to stand behind the couch were Hades, Captain Hook, Shan Yu, and Gaston. All of them with their arm crossed.

Finally, seated on the carpeted floor before the couches are Scar and Oogie Boogie. Who looked bored out of their minds.

You let out yet another groan.

How did you end up in this situation again??

Ah, right. The mysterious room.

For those of you who are wondering, here's what went down literal hours ago.

You had entered what looked like an old storage room, flicked the light switch on, and discovered that it was filled to the brim with various antiques and junk.

Looking around, you felt like a kid in a candy store, discovering the various curious objects that your former employer collected, lining each shelf.

Everything was so interesting (and sellable) to you.

But what stood out to you the most, though, was an assortment of random items set up on a row of pedestals.

A staff broken in half, a shattered mirror, an unlit greek looking torch lying on its side, a dusty lamp, a tarnished silver hook, a vintage hunting rifle, an old scattered deck of tarot cards, a weird wavy looking sword (a quick google search informed you that it was a serrated jagged jian), a lion skull (not even gonna question how your employer got their hands on these ethically), a gold nautilus shell necklace, an exotic black and white fur coat of some animal (again, not gonna question how they were ethically acquired), and finally a set of red hand carved dices.

With a wide shit eating grin and dollar signs in your eyes, you decided on the spot that these would definitely sell for a large amount of money and decided to take a picture of them to post online.

However, before you could take the shot, you realized something.

No one would buy any of this junk if you sell them as they looked now, like junk!

So, with a new goal in mind, you quickly set out to grab whatever cleaning materials you could find.

And when you came back, you glued together the two broken parts of the staff, put back the pieces of the shattered mirror back in place, set the unlit greek torch up, rubbed the dust off of the lamp, polished the silver hook, cleaned the vintage hunting rifle, stacked and rearanged the deck of tarot cards, sharpened the weird wavy sword, dusted the lion skull, washed the gold nautilus shell pendant in soapy water, and brushed the exotic fur coat.

When all was done, you stood back with your hands on your hips, a prideful grin stretching across your face at having cleaned all of the useless junk before you.

If only you had the same amount of energy and enthusiasm when it comes to cleaning the rest of your house.

You were about to take a picture again when you realized you weren't completely done. There was still one item left.

The pair of red dice.

You stared down at the dices in contemplation. For some reason, something about them didn't seem to sit right with you.

One dice had a six facing up, while the other had a five. Making it an eleven in total.

You grabbed the dices, shaking them around in the palm of your hand and without much of a thought, threw them onto its pedestal. Watching as it rolled on the surface before stopping, both dices landed on a one.

Snake eyes.

All of a sudden, the lights in the room started to flicker and turn off completely, leaving you in the dark.

You cursed under your breath as you were about to turn the flashlight on your phone when you noticed that the dices were glowing green, like one of those shitty glow in the dark star stickers you had as a kid.

Suddenly, the dices weren't the only thing glowing as the fur coat was glowing white, followed by the shell pendant glowing gold, the lion skull glowing green, the sword glowing a dull blue, the tarot deck glowing purple, the hunting rifle glowing red, the hook glowing gold as well, the lamp glowing red too, the torch glowing blue which also lit up in blue flames on it's own, the mirror glowing purple, and finally the staff glowing green.

Each of the items slowly hovered in the air, wind seeming to pick up around you despite the lack of windows, and then suddenly a burst of green smoke spread throughout the room, temporarily blinding you as you coughed into your fist.

You swatted your hands around to clear the smoke, rubbing your teary eyes when a sound caught your attention. Not just any sound, it was the sound of a person, no, people! It was the sound of people!

When the smoke finally cleared, you were greeted by the sight of a dogpile of people, all groaning and moaning in pain, some muttering curses under their breaths as they struggled to get up from their current positions.

"Get off of me, you fools!"

A comanding feminine voice exclaimed.

"Ugh, you first, I can feel you stepping on my tail."

Another masculine voice grumbled.

"Ugh, get your slimey apendeges off of me, woman!"

Another masculine voice exclaimed in disgust.

"For the last time. It's not slime, you narcissistic oaf, it's mucus!"

Yet another feminine voice retorted.

"She's actually right, ya know? It's mucus, not slime. Had to learn that the hard way."

Yet another masculine voice says, agreeing with the person who spoke before them.

Whilst they were still arguing with one another, you figured now would be a great time to escape, slowly backing away, careful not to make a sound when you flinch as your back hits something sturdy and warm.

With a nervous gulp, you slowly crained your neck up only to see a tall gray skinned man with shark like teeth and blue flames for hair, looking down at you with a wide toothy grin.

"Hey there, nice to meet cha', you goin' somewhere, babes?"

The gray man asked in a casual tone, a hint of a threat hidden beneath it. Before you could respond, you yelped in surprise as you were suddenly grabbed by the back collar of your shirt and lifted a few feet away from the ground.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?~"

You froze as you were suddenly face to face with a big talking sack, your face growing pale when you noticed a centipede crawling out of its open stitched mouth.

The thing before you seemed to notice this, grinning even wider as they brought you closer to its face.

"What's wrong, little one? You feeling ssscaareeddd?~"

A snake had just slithered out of its mouth like a tongue and hissed at you as it trailed off the word 'scared'. Which made you scream as you kicked at his face in response, causing the thing to drop you as it held its face in pain.

"UGH! YOU LITTLE-"

The commotion seemed to finally catch the others' attention, finally registering your presence.

Before you could run off and escape, though, a tendril of black smoke wrapped around you, restricting your movement as it pulled you closer to the blue flame headed guy who merely chuckled as you thrashed around in his grip, successfully getting your arms out before trying to tug and yank the rest of the smokey tendrils off of you.

"Hey, fellas, I think I found the culprit to our little... Heh, predicament..."

The blue flame haired guy announced as he pulled you closer to him and grabbed ahold of your cheeks with one hand, forcing you to face the rest of the group.

The rest of them then approached, crowding around and glaring down at you.

"So you're the reason why we're in this mess... Speak. Why have you brought us here?"

The beautiful woman before you asked, no, commanded. Her pose is regal and sophisticated even as she looks down on you. She wore a golden crown atop her head, with a purple velvet dress and a black cape.

Your face morphed in confusion as you stared up at her, practically scanning her features.

For some reason, you feel like you've met her before.

You turn to the others as well, scanning them from head to toe.

A tall mean looking lady with greenish skin and black horns, a grumpy arabian guy dressed in red and black, a big intimidating asian dude, a woman with melanie martinez's hair but if she were emo, a guy that looks like a himbo, a fat drag queen with tentacles and light purplish skin, twinkish looking man with a fancy hat dressed in all red, twinkish looking man with a fancy hat no. 2 dressed in all purple, and a literal fucking lion.

After staring at the crowd before you, you turned your head back to properly look at the other three you had just met. The fat sack of creepy crawlies, the shark teethed flame head, and the literal fucking queen.

Stupid. That's what you currently felt. Not scared, not happy. Stupid.

How could you not recognize the people before you?? They were your literal childhood before you grew out of them. Gods, you felt so dumb for not realizing it sooner!

They were all Disney Villains!

Noticing that you seemed disappointed about something rather than fearful of their presence, the villains turned to one another with looks of confusion. Not used to this kind of reaction.

Hades, who still held you hostage decided to shake you out of whatever it is you were so hung up about.

"Oy, kid. You still with us? Kinda rude to just space out on people ya know?"

He asked, successfully snapping you out of your momentary internal berating.

"I... I know you guys..."

You muttered out loud, still in disbelief of the situation.

This caused the villains to smirk and perk up a little smugly, their ego rising at the thought of being recognized by someone they deemed lesser than then. Especially a certain muscle head.

"Ah yes, of course you've heard about the great Gasto-"

"You're all disney villains!"

You unintentionally cut off him off, your eyes widening as you clamped your mouth shut with your hands in realization of your mistake.

The villains were also caught off guard, not by your interruption, but by your statement.

"Disney... Villains?..."

Shan Yu slowly repeated, confusion evident in his tone.

You kept your mouth clamped shut, refusing to respond until a silver hook was pressed against your neck.

"You better spill, little one, or I'll slice through that pretty little neck of yours, and you don't want that now, do you?"

Captain Hook threatened, pressing his hook closer to your neck, nearly breaking the skin.

That was what led to all of you gathered in the living room, after begging asking to be released so you could explain to them, glancing at each disney villain from Maleficent to Oogie Boogie.

When Oogie Boogie noticed that you had glanced down at him, he sent you an eerie grin that made shivers crawl down your spine.

Out of all the Disney Villains present, He unsettled you the most.

The other's existence was reasonable and made sense to you.

Evil human beings of higher power and capabilities? Fine. A literal dark fae, an octupus lady, and a greek god? Good. A talking lion? Amazing. But a literal walking, talking, sack of bugs?

Burn it to the ground.

You take in a deep breath, exhaling through your nose in an effort to stay calm (spoiler alert it is not working) as you face the group of animated evil doers come to life with an uneasy smile.

"So... What would you like to know first?"

End of Part 1

Next Part

[certifiablyinsanez]

I love weirdos. I love people who have walls covered with manga pages and anime posters. I love people who have way too many stuffed animals and toys strewn about. I love people who have little space in their rooms and homes because they’re full of bookshelves for their figures, manga, books, comics, toys, etc. I love people who wear weird things like “cringe” merch, stuffed animal bags, cloaks, capes, etc. I love people who experiment with unconventional makeup. I love people with mullets or shaved heads. I love people who complete their looks with fishnets and colored contacts. I love people who have half finished cosplays in their closets. I love people who write and read fanfiction. I love people who make fan art, whether it’s “sellable” or not. I love punks, lolitas (the Japanese alt scene), scene queens, emos, bimbos, femmes, butches, studs, drag performers, etc. I love furries and therians. I love witches and pagans. I love the people on the outskirts. The weirdos. The freaks. The undesirables. Because in them I don’t just see myself, I see joy. The reality that life can be lived authentically in countless ways. I see that we cannot be doomed to conformity or homogeny. We are vibrant, we are beautiful. We are worth saving. Life is good. Life is fun.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

I had no idea that there were zillionaires that actually troll Zillow Gone Wild sites and buy the houses. I posted this 1940 home in Sacramento, CA quite a while ago, and I'm happy to see it again. The person that bought the 4bd, 2ba home for $650K, down from $825K.

The buyer was able to afford it b/c he bought it from his friend who bought it first, and posted his intention to renovate it, on the internet. The internet promptly descended on him with nasty messages b/c they didn't want him to flip it. (And, he found out that it would be a monumental renovation.)

Tyler, the new owner, didn't want to renovate it.

He said,  “The person had obviously put in 20 years of work—but it just wasn’t our style. And the truth of it is, when we got in there, we realized a lot of what had been installed wasn’t safe.” 

Sadly, it was DIY'd and the wiring was not up to code.

One of biggest opponents of changing it was Tyler's mom.

But, eventually she agreed.

In the end, Tyler and his girlfriend, Marina, had to make the home livable, pouring their savings into renovations.

“It seems like the people we encounter either really loved the house as it was, calling it a work of art, or people said it was weird,” Tyler said.

The primary bedroom was kind of disappointing.

The library was very creative.

The bath had some nice mosaics.

“We didn’t touch the basement or the detached garage though as an homage to the original owner,” said Tyler. So, this is basically all that's left of it. Warning: The After may upset some of you.

They wanted a modern look in the home and did not make stylistic choices that could affect its re-sellability, he says. “Though I hope people don’t walk in and think it now screams millennial style.” (Oh, it does.)

Tyler and his girlfriend transformed the home to have an open-concept layout with a neutral color palette. Seriously, I can't believe it. Isn't there any way that they could've fixed the electric?

https://www.architecturaldigest.com/story/meet-the-zillionaires-who-bought-homes-off-zillow-gone-wild

[unteriors-in-house-flipper-2]

I am losing my mind at this blog

this, this is peak art

I really mean it

it's honestly so amazing and layered, taking a game about fixing up homes, cleaning them up, making them attractive and sellable

then purposefully doing the opposite to create dirty, lived in spaces is such a raw thing to do

gosh that's amazing

YOU GET IT 🧡 and thank you for your kind words :)

playing the sims ive always been a builder babe, and i loved house flipper 1 but neither of those games really let me create the interiors i actually find interesting.

the trash generator and dirt/stain painting tools are very straightforward, but combined with the overhauled build mechanics they give me just the right combination of complexity and limitations to finally let me try to replicate the aura or atmosphere these spaces carry! everything from the choice of furniture to the wear and tear and even the framing of the photos themselves tell a story and its a fun challenge to push the engine and see how close i can get.

[mus1g4]

Are the inmate uniforms sellable to roleplay participants if one would like to take the very dressed uniform back?

Question about Role Play Uniforms for Sale

I am going to assume that you are asking with reference to the uniforms used at the Franklin County Historic Jail (FCJ). We use solid orange jumpsuits and scrubs for normal role play. We also provide black and white striped uniforms for chain gang role play.

We don't have a regular program of selling uniforms but, if you arrange with us prior to your visit with a requested size and style, we will have it made up for you. You can wear it during your stay and then take it home. The cost depends on the style of uniform.

[legendsgalore]

Introducing my farmer, farmer Lindsey at Mistymoore Farm!

Here are some of her outfits, she spends a lot of time in the Mines and cutting down wood to craft sellable items! She's the type where she comes sprinting into the inn, after a Mines run, at 11pm on Friday nights just to shove gifts into everyone's hands, and then run home. Plus a lil Balor in the corner there!!

[asukaskerian]

bleach daemon AU - outside POV on harribel

so a couple centuries (5 years) ago i asked for prompts for this (grimmichi) verse. most of them are still languishing in my file.

but then i was prodding at the fullbringers arc and i was like "lol i could add some yakuzas" because, lol, in the last fic of that series there's an outsider pov on a yakuza. (he thinks ichigo is an oyabun's young heir and grimmjow is his hitman bodyguard. it's hilarious.) and then this ficlet was like "i will be short to complete and then, having gotten back into the yakuza oc mindset, you can go back to the multipart!" (it was a lie) but anyway.

--

anonymous asked: In the Grimmichi Daemonverse, could you have Nel and/or Harribel come try out the daemon thing? Then Ichigo could be seen hanging out not only with his hot yakuza boyfriend but also with hot dangerous-looking women, like he's slowly growing his harem :)

it alas did not end up looking like a harem. but, lol anyway.

Jin's daemon Rin is a snake i forget which kind and Yamatora's daemon Queen is a little terrier dog. Grimmjow's panther is Leucanthe and Ichigo's lioness is Rikuto. Oh and some of Grimmjow's fraccion survived and are hanging around in gigai too.

--

Times were, Jin and Rin liked it when the big boss's eyes fell on them and he said things like, "ah, I can entrust you with that thing". Felt important, like understanding, like respect.

Now Rin coils tighter around his neck and resists the urge to sigh.

"Urahara-dono, sir?"

The boss nods slowly. "You're good with the weird," his daemon says.

Jin does not feel very complimented.

"Take your newbie with you. Urahara-dono's heir knows him, doesn't he?"

Urahara-dono's heir regards Jin's trainee the way one regards a dumb, hapless chicken in a field full of foxes and tiger pits -- with vague, despairing concern. It's, Jin supposes, not the worst thing. He could be regarding him like a newly powerful man regards the punk who used to try to beat him up behind the grocery store.

Jin supposes the operative word here is "try".

"Yes, sir," he replies, dutiful if not enthused.

"Oh, and I'm sending Matsuoka too. He's got to get used to dealing with Urahara-dono's cohort if he wants to get anywhere as an underboss," the big boss mutters, and Jin feels very briefly doomed.

--

Matsuoka-san is a very new underboss; a modern, ambitious type. His daemon is a falcon -- observant, wary, viciously fast to attack. He comes from a sister family to the Kishiume and he has a great many fresh ideas to revolutionize the criminal underworld.

He also has no fucking clue why the big boss went so far as to meet with some unkempt undercover-as-a-shopkeeper guy with no bonds of brotherhood to any other family when as far as anybody can tell he has twenty men tops and isn't trading out any weapons or sellable shit.

He'll learn, Jin knows.

"Or he'll get dead," Rin mutters. Jin doesn't even bother huffing his reaction.

"What'd you say, Rin-san?" Queen asks solicitously, craning her neck to catch a glimpse.

"Nothing of importance. Turn left at the next crossroads."

They turn left. Yamatora is humming nervously, fingers tapping the wheel, but he's a surprisingly good driver. He maintains his speed with machine-like precision and uses his turn signal religiously. They're not going to get pulled over today, no matter how completely suspicious the semi-trailer truck is, driving through narrow suburb streets as it is.

Inside there's a giant tub of water and a rigged-together bunch of sprinklers and some pulley system for a stretcher. Jin officially does not want to even wonder.

Matsuoka-san is following them in his sports car. If anybody gets them stopped today he will.

--

They get to the Urahara shop; park the truck on the stretch of beaten earth before its front door. Step out of the truck. The front steps are home to three men -- two of them massive and well-muscled, the last whipcord-thin and playing with something that shines in the sunlight. Jin does not want to take a single step closer to them. They bother him the same way Kurosaki-san's bodyguard bothers him -- something crazy in the gleam of their grinning teeth. He goes anyway.

He lets Matsuoka-san go first, though. It isn't his place to tell the underboss to be careful of bottom-rung flunkies.

"Tell your boss the Kishiume envoys are here," Matsuoka-san starts with, his falcon mantling her wings pointedly. Rin hisses quietly, winds herself tighter. Queen briefly cowers behind Tora's legs, and then wanders out to swagger awkwardly as they try to provide backup.

The three men stare back for a long couple of seconds, and then the scrawny one with the fat lizard laughs, like they have an inside joke and it's on Matsuoka-san.

"Be polite," the red-haired one chides mildly, his baboon smiling in a too-human way for fangs that size. "Go get him."

"Yeah, yeah," the scrawny guy goes, standing up, and disappears indoors, daemon wrapped around his shoulders like a yellow-and-black scarf. The sliding door snaps closed behind him as he stomps on wooden boards loud enough to be heard from outside.

The guy who emerges isn't Urahara-dono. It's the crazy panther guy.

The panther slinks out of the door first, casually brushing against the last guy's warthog, and on her heels comes the man, loose-limbed and his eyelids heavy, unimpressed. He scans their trio and says nothing to Matsuoka-san, visibly at the head of it, stares at Jin himself for a second longer. Nods, to him and not to the underboss.

"I remember you."

That is... not something Jin knows whether to appreciate or not, but he nods back, expressionless.

The panther sits, licks her paw with casual unconcern. "Thanks for last time. We had fun."

Yamatora blinks dumbly. "Oh, at the p--" Jin elbows him. The hitman smirks.

And they've officially reached the end of Matsuoka-san's patience. Daemon fluffing up her feathers in annoyance, he takes a step forward. "I asked to see your boss. Where is he."

An arctic-blue look spears him right back. "No, you asked for their boss. That's me."

... Oh, hell. This is now a pissing contest. Jin knew it. He doesn't even know who to bet on; Matsuoka-san has a gun and a lot of rage, but the hitman is... The vibes. No. His panther is just going to leap and pluck the falcon right out of the air before anyone can even throw a punch, how can Matsuoka-san not see that?

Also how the hell does it work? Kurosaki-san is training under Urahara-dono, so how--

"Grimmjow, what the hell -- oh, you guys are here! Awesome."

And Kurosaki-san's daemon is now peeking out of the door, sans her human, looking as innocently curious as a black lioness can possibly be. She doesn't pad out, likely not wanting to strain her bond; instead she just... stares at Queen, and blinks myopically, and goes "Oh, hey, I know you. I think? Hi."

"I'm Queen!" Queen yaps, bristled in offense. "Queen and Yamatora!"

"Oh right! Taroyama. Yeah. I remember. Anyway!"

Tora and his daemon are suffocating with spluttery offense. Rin and Jin would be offended too if they thought Kurosaki-san actively meant to be offensive, but the fact of the matter is that she just doesn't seem to care enough to be deliberate.

They're not sure if she meant to utterly ignore Matsuoka-san to start with, but when his daemon starts angling out her wings like she plans to dive and strike, they know it's not gonna matter in the long run.

Kurosaki-san turns her heavy head up to the falcon, nods, expression a little more reserved. "Kishiume-sama's representative, huh? I'm Kurosaki Rikuto. Thanks for coming, we appreciate it."

"Do you," Matsuoka-san says back, jaw clenched. "Greeting us with disrespectful little punks, and then with half of you--"

The way the black jaguar slowly moves to stand between him and the lioness says nothing good. "I'm sure he couldn't help it," Jin says before the hitman can open his mouth and shoot something really impolitic right back.

"Yeah, he's -- ow, fuck." The lioness shakes her head, as if hurt; from inside the shop comes a muffled, "Grimmjow! Can someone come help me hold her down?!"

"Leu?" the lioness asks, and the panther groans.

"Yeah, yeah, okay. Kanchana, you and Edrad are in charge. You guys know what we need."

The hitman and his daemon amble back inside without another word. Fuming, Matsuoka-san hisses between his teeth, daemon with her feathers all puffed up.

The redhead with the baboon stands, a faint smirk on his face that could pass for apologetic in the right light. "Alright. Sorry for this. Things have been a bit chaotic this morning. It should go much smoother now that you and your men are here to assist. That the trailer? Can I check it out?"

--

At Edrad's instructions, they've turned the truck and the trailer around to back it against the front door. Matsuoka-san has been gritting his teeth over not being invited inside for the whole ten minutes it took, and Jin and Rin have been standing next to the big, silent one and his warthog in mutual, warily respectful quiet for just as long as the blond brat with the lizard pops in and out of a window to the side of the building to relay informations.

"Who do you think they were holding down?" Tora whispers in his other ear. "The journalist?"

"The journalist was months ago. It'd be over with by now."

Matsuoka-san narrows his eyes, as if he wants to ask for the story but knows better than to do it in a yard where everyone comes and goes. "Or they were giving us a half-assed excuse not to greet us properly. Who the fuck does that kind of business in the same rooms they receive people--"

From the shop comes a sudden, ragged scream; a woman's scream, raw and gut-deep. The three of them tense, Tora's eyes going wide. The big man beside them blinks down at them placidly.

"--Okay, who the fuck does that kind of business somewhere they can be heard from the street?"

Inside they can hear a mad scramble of feet approaching through the shop; the screams die down into gasps even as they get closer and -- bumps and thuds, feet, the trailer swaying under the growing weight of... they can see nothing, the trailer parked so damn close and the big man standing there blocking the hair-thin gap between it and the door. The paper squares of the screen are opaque and the light is stronger outside and Jin can see nothing but shadows.

Rin sees a lot of warm spots moving around, but that doesn't say much more.

"What... What do you think she did?" Queen whispers from Tora's arms, quaking just barely. Rin strikes at her nose, annoyed.

"How many times do I have to tell you, it doesn't matter what she did, or her lover did, it's not your business."

Their only job is to assist with transport. Transport of a screaming woman who needed to be held down, in a trailer with a tank of water more than big enough to submerge someone. Yeah, it's gonna be a right dirty job.

But Urahara-dono asked for that favor, to pay back some favor he did the boss a way back that's been hanging over his head for years. Here they are and that's it.

He hopes being asked to take the fall isn't going to be part of it. Surely the boss would have warned them. Or he would have given Jin and Rin someone else than Tora and Queen. Right now all they can do that isn't drive the truck and beat up people is provide a convenient corpse, and ... No, Jin didn't get that vibe. Which is good because he got kind of used to Tora's dependable stupidity.

--

They get asked to deliver the trailer to a secret address.

The address is a beach. A craggy little thing tucked between two cliffs, pebbles instead of sand with big splashing waves and a quick drop toward the depths. A great place to dump corpses.

Maneuvering the trailer down that beach is a six-person job; the two big henchmen, the blue-haired hitman, Kurosaki-san, and Jin and Tora themselves. It's heavy, and the slope is pronounced.

The water inside keeps splashing out, even though the thing inside seems to be doing its best not to move.

The waves lap at their legs, ankles first and then thighs. It's cold. Not a season for swimming. Kurosaki gets slapped in the face by a wave and huffs. "Ugh. Okay -- okay, a bit more. Harribel-san?"

Then the trailer shifts and bobs, half-carried by the waves, and unlocks from the inside.

The loading ramp flops down, slapping the water. A woman emerges to stand on the threshold.

Jin stops breathing.

He hopes he's being discreet. He hopes she doesn't notice he exists.

"Holy shiiit, babe alert," Tora whispers, and from her perch across his shoulder Queen perks up, scanning her shoulders and around her legs for the daemon. Rin strikes out without a thought, hitting Queen's flank with her snout and stopping herself from sinking in her fangs at the very last second. Does he want to get them all fucking killed?!

Queen yips in betrayed surprise. The woman's eyes glance over them. Jin stands very, very straight and mentally catalogs his weapons; he barely relaxes when she finally looks away.

"That is not someone's girlfriend," he hisses under his breath. Sure she's tanned and blonde like any gyaru from the clubs but if she's more than half Japanese he'll cut off his pinky on the spot. She's... something else.

Back on the shore Matsuoka-san and his daemon are bristled up like they're still working themselves up to snarling something. Time to take one for the team. The big boss had better be thankful.

"Your pardon, ma'am. Do you need any help to unload?"

Whatever it is inside there, that the men didn't let them see carry in. Whatever they're carrying in water (water daemon?) to a disposal area (screaming woman with cement shoes?) that they will no doubt see now unless they leave straight away, and Matsuoka-san won't. He feels too slighted to allow them the discretion.

She looks down at him from above and her eyes are depthless, suffocating.

"If she needs help it sure as fuck won't be yours," the hitman laughs. "Yo, Harribel, you vacationing up here?"

She doesn't answer the hitman's jeer; she looks at him for a second and then back at Jin, and her voice is low, husky. "I will manage. Step back onto the shore. Grimmjow, have Nakeem hold onto the hitch."

The hitman makes a permissive hand gesture and the man with the warthog obeys. Kurosaki-san herds everyone else out of the water in big splashing steps, and they're still ankle deep when the trailer rocks and something massive slips out.

Jin was keeping watch over his shoulder. He still barely has the time to see the long body slip down the ramp -- white belly, dark back, fins --

"Is that a shark?" Matsuoka-san chokes out.

"It's obviously a fucking tortoise," the hitman drawls back with unimpressed mockery. His panther is watching them and Jin doesn't like the cant of her ears one bit.

"He's a Great White, I'm pretty sure," Kurosaki interjects, and elbows the hitman in the ribs. At the other end of the trailer a splash resounds, the woman diving smoothly after her daemon.

They miraculously all shut up for a minute or two as they watch the dorsal fin cut through the waves. The woman doesn't resurface for -- pretty long.

"All good, Harribel-san?"

"Satisfactory," she replies, bobbing with the waves. The fin resurfaces, and a great deal of sleek shark back. "Wait a bit longer for the trailer."

It's bobbing on the waves, the henchman Nakeem still holding onto the chain to keep it from drifting away and sinking. Dragging it back upslope is going to be a chore and a half.

Getting the shark back into the rig--

How did they even get it inside the first time around? Does Urahara-dono have a seawater pool with a winch in the backroom of his shop? It's ridiculous. His shop looks so small. Even if there's a basement it would need a freight elevator--

Not his business, he reminds himself.

"Shouldn't we at least beach it, ma'am?"

The shark surfaces, much closer to the shore than he assumed it could get. The woman shakes her head, expressionless. "It's not safe yet."

--Ah?

Further away -- so far, how long is her tether, isn't that uncomfortable -- a fish jumps out of the waves. A dorsal fin follows. The shark was between her and the shore not a minute ago.

"Not... safe?"

The henchman with the baboon laughs in amused sympathy. "So he doesn't react badly if you scratch yourself on the frame and bleed. He might bite down before he's thought it through."

Queen whimpers. "Oh my god."

"He's been cooped up a while, is all! He'll be more sociable in a minute."

The panther grumbles, batting at the lapping waves. "Yeah well he'd better hurry up, cause I want to swim too."

"Seriously? It's cold as hell! You're a tropical cat!"

"You're a whiner."

"Oh, fuck off--"

"Shut the fuck up," Matsuoka-san snaps without warning. "The fuck kind of job is this? A vacation?"

Kurosaki scowls back, but half-heartedly, more chiding than insulted. The hitman props an elbow on his shoulder and snorts, a derisive half-smile floating on his face. Both cats turn to stare, then the panther rolls her eyes and goes back to aimlessly slapping at the waves. The lioness starts scratching her ear with a back paw.

"We didn't have a trailer big enough," Kurosaki-san says, patient but tired. "And you guys did. Nobody said it was life or death, you don't need to be so tense."

Tora slips Jin a look like he's asking if they need to back him up. Jin shakes his head no. They have twice as many people if this goes bad and Kurosaki-san is still attempting to deescalate; if Matsuoka-san wants a pissing contest it's probably not going to go further than a beatdown, which at this point he is asking for.

"Tense? The fuck do you mean?"

-- Unless the hitman gets involved --

"I mean tense like tense," Kurosaki-san snaps back, finally getting annoyed, "but if you want to hear it like scared that's not my business," but the hitman has already let his elbow slide off his shoulder, is already taking a gliding step forward--

"Grimmjow."

He stops.

Thigh-deep in the waves, the woman is staring, still expressionless.

"What," he growls back, head inclined toward her but still facing Matsuoka-san.

"Don't cause Urahara Kisuke problems."

"You're telling me you think his boss didn't send him here so we fix his attitude problem for him?"

Jin winces inwardly. Matsuoka-san gets shocked stupid, bird rearing back. Apparently he didn't have the first clue that his attitude needed adjusting and the concept is stalling his brain -- or maybe it's the matter-of-fact way they speak that hammers it in, like of course that's true, but it's nothing to get excited over, because he's just that unimportant, just that harmless.

"That doesn't matter. He didn't ask out loud. Let Urahara make the call."

"... Boring." The hitman gives Matsuoka-san a dismissive look and turns away.

Yamatora and Queen are staring, mouths open. "W-wait -- ah, miss -- lady -- are... you his boss?"

She walks up onto the beach, hair dripping. Her wetsuit follows every curve of her body, and they all spell predator. Jin wishes he had muzzled his rookie.

"He's on loan to Kurosaki Ichigo."

... Jin reorganizes his understanding of Urahara-dono's outfit in his head.

Is Grimmjow-san an underboss? Loaned with his whole team? Are they all crazy hitmen like he is? The man with the pig daemon is expressionless like somebody dead and the one with the baboon normal, friendly, and standing between them and the car and Jin didn't notice.

"Thanks," Kurosaki-san says drolly. "How do I give him back?"

"You don't," the hitman leers back. "I gotta be wrapped all special in a... Edrad, what's the word?" he asks leadingly.

"Body bag?"

The man smirks wider, fangy, flicking his fingers at his man. "That's it."

"I can arrange that," Kurosaki-san grouches. "Harribel-san, can I drown him a little? Is it okay now? I don't want to give your daemon indigestion--"

"The fuck he could eat us!" the panther yowls, incensed. "Fucking goldfish--"

Sighing, the woman nods her agreement to the lioness, who sidesweeps her human's legs with her own flank, sending him careening into the hitman, who trips over his own daemon, and they all end up knee deep in the waves, spluttering and hollering insults. The henchman with the baboon laughs.

"Harribel-sama. Anything you need?"

"No. Don't get into the water yet, you'll seem more edible."

"Oh, I had no intention, ma'am."

She comes to a stop before Matsuoka. Her daemon is so far from her, swimming laps at the entry to the cove, barely visible; she stands alone and barely seems to notice.

If he treats her like somebody's woman he is going to die. It looks like he does have some good sense behind the bluster, though, because he grits his teeth and says nothing and nods back when she does.

"Thank you for the ride. I won't be needing your help on the trip back. Edrad and Nakeem will help you get the trailer back and after that you may go."

... What?

"Convey my thanks to your head," she adds with another nod to the three of them, and then she turns right back toward the sea.

"But... How is she going home?" Tora asks plaintively.

Jin can only shrug.

Maybe there's a boat waiting out there. Maybe there's an oxygen bottle and a mask hidden somewhere in the rocks, and they will go out at sea and disappear that way. Maybe that is how she gets around usually and the inland side-trip was unplanned, a trap even; and he doesn't know and will never know, and he sure as hell will not ask.

Unless they fit inside a carry-on aquatic daemons are a disability for everyday life. Where do you live with them as a human; a barge? A cruise ship? Venice?

Where do you live that still lets you become a boss?

And how have they never heard of her?

He is so, so glad it's a question for his oyabun and not for him. He feels like knowing would shorten his lifespan considerably.

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

I’m curious as to how ruin managed to save himself from being sold, like how exactly did he act during and before the auctioning (I already know he probably got the barcode tattoo and name branding if eclipse, and the twins went through that)

Ruin basically behaved all the way through getting his brand and barcode tattoo and all the sexual harassment at the auction, up until he was up on stage for auction.

Once on the stage, Ruin promptly began to attack himself and scratch and claw and bite himself to show that he wasn't marketable nor sellable. Going so far that he bit off several of his fingers and threw them at the auctioneer. He basically portrayed himself as so batshit insane that nobody wanted to buy him and Moon was forced to take him home.

[bonestitchtw]

Ok so jonatello shippers would you read this fanfic?

(I just need to get this out of my head, also sometimes I get embarrassed by posting and delete them. Just thought about I should mention it's been a long time since I finished the show so this is like season 2)

Okey so basically Casey owns a black morph leopard gecko (at the bottom I'll put the back story) when he was in a fight with the kraang(with the turtles), during the fight Donnie is above him and he knocks one of the dancers on the Casey breaking it, who had handled his lizard before leaving home making it the last animal he touched mutating him into a mutant leopard gecko. Not having anywhere else to go, he is forced to stay with the turtles but they have no heating (I don't remember if it's ever mentioned if they do have heating) and leopard geckos need the temperature to be 87, Donnie's lab is the only place with heating due to his experiments. First few chapters of Casey pretty much being stuck Donnie's lab, since everywhere else feels insanely cold to Casey. During this time Donnie hooks up heating in the other rooms (This is where Donnie realizes Casey is smarter than he thought and casey realizes that Donnie is actually pretty cool).

Haven't thought of much after that this is more of just a idea of a fanfic, but really I don't know much about fanfiction. Or if I might be making the characters too ooc (sorry if I am). Just more of a main idea

Backstory: Casey's lizard comes from a breeder who cares more about money and doesn't care what happens to the lizards even if they're valuable ones, Casey's lizard had lost its tail due to stress and would not eat which made the breeder believe it to be not sellable and had thrown it away like trash. One day a year ago Casey had gone dumpster diving only to find a small container with a live lizard in it, of course in Casey fashion he believed that he would be able to nurse it back to health knowing nothing about leopard geckos. (Anyway somehow he did it, I got this idea because I keep seeing art of mutated Casey and well I have a pet leopard gecko 😅)

This is honestly probably a terrible idea that I might delete but someone might like it :). (Season 2)

[not-a-space-alien]

Tinytopia Chapter 5: Endless Rebirth (Part 1)

Story Masterpost

On AO3

Thanks to my beta/sensitivity reader @appelsiinilight!

In this chapter: Marcy starts to refocus her efforts on life at home, just in time to receive yet another visitor.

Warning: This chapter features a dog mauling that goes slightly above the intensity usual for this story.

***

Out in the park, a young borrower wobbled through the grass.  Dirt stuck to his fur and under his fingernails, and he wandered around lost until a tree nearby turned and bent over to scrutinize him through the knots in its trunk.

“Oh, hello?” the borrower said, backing up nervously.

You seem lost, whispered a voice like wind creaking through branches.  What are you doing here?

“I don't really know,” the borrower said.  “Sorry.  I'm all alone, though.  Hey, what are you?  You're the only talking tree here, I think.”

The tree creaked and swayed for a moment. Then: I am a dryad, and I think I know where you should go.

***

Marcy’s first act as a full-time housekeeper was to take stock of everyone who was already in the house.  They’d been managing mostly fine without her, but Moon was right.  There were more little creatures running around, and if this was going to be Marcy’s main focus, she could spend her time thinking of ways to make life here better for them.

Thistle had always known Marcy was smart, but he was awed to see her in action.  She was a bundle of nerves, of course–she always was–but now that her attention was fully on things here at home, it became obvious just how passionate she was and how hard and quickly she worked.  It seemed like her failed PhD program was forgotten almost instantly.

The first step was to help Thistle, who also seemed similarly overwhelmed by everyone new showing up, make his guest book.  It was a large book for Thistle’s standards, but small for Marcy–the size that a human could write in it, albeit with some difficulty, and allow plenty of room for denizens with tinier hands to write without being overwhelmed.  It was a good compromise–and Marcy got something from the craft store that would be a bit sturdier than a notebook, a bound book with blank pages and a cover ready for decorating.  Thistle put off ramping up his sellable art projects for just a bit to decorate it.  It didn’t take too long.

Then he went around and made an entry for everyone.  Marcy at the same time made a note of their wants, needs, and habits, in case she could spot anything that could be coordinated or made better for everyone.

Thistle insisted Marcy be on the first page.  Then the other humans: Teddy and Colin.  They were here first, so might as well go in chronological order.

Teddy and Colin were the owners of the house, so it was important to make sure they were okay with everything going on.  Well, Colin was the owner of the house, but he mostly cared about using the house to make Teddy happy.  Both of them had been pretty gracious about everything, but Marcy would still need to ask permission for major changes.  They worked alternating schedules, sometimes on the weekends and sometimes off on weekdays.

Mochi was put in the basement when none of the humans were home–that was just for safety.  Marcy’s continual presence there would be good for her, too–the cat would have to spend less time locked away meowing mournfully to be let out, since Marcy could make sure she didn’t pose a threat to any of the tiny creatures.

Then there was Thistle, of course.  He was the star of the show, in Marcy’s opinion.  He was usually awake at 9 or 10AM until about midnight.  He slept either in Marcy’s hand or, more recently, he’d taken to sleeping with Moon on the desk or nightstand in Marcy’s room.  He alternated, wanting to sleep with them both but knowing Moon wasn’t comfortable sleeping on top of Marcy yet.  He spent most of his days in the living room: his art supplies were on the floor, his little painted castle with his clothes and knickknacks was there, and he could hop up on the couch to watch TV when he wanted to.  He made paintings and drawings and clay figurines and sold them all online.  He had his silkworms there, too, for petting and taking their silk and the occasional snack.  He would practice flying when he had someone to help him–which would be a lot more often now that Marcy would be home basically full-time.

Jewel, of course, spent all his time in the fish tank.  He’s been warming up to socializing more, albeit slowly–very slowly.  He was free to keep his own schedule, although he was mostly limited to sleeping at night when no one was in the living room with him to keep him awake.  Sometimes Colin would talk him into letting himself be scooped up and taken out for various social activities–Colin was really the only one he trusted to do that, although he was starting to open up to Marcy and Teddy a bit more, too.

Violet and Petunia had been given permission from the humans to live in the walls and very rarely came out–they were by the far the most introverted members of the household.  When Thistle wanted to get ahold of them, he usually walked over to this little crevice in the dining room baseboard, stuck his head in, and yelled for them.  If he did that for long enough, it would summon Violet eventually.  He had managed to get them to come to a few social gatherings, but never for very long at a time.  Violet always acted like she had places to be and important things to be doing, although maybe that was just because she was jittery, in more or less constant motion.  Petunia always loved coming out, although even she would start to obviously lose her stamina for socializing after two or three hours and start to nod off.

Severa spent most of her time occupied with whatever activity Thistle was doing, seeing him as her main source of nourishment now that she no longer hunted and relied on their bond to sustain herself.  She didn’t seem to have any strong preferences about socializing or activities, just sort of letting herself be subjected to whatever everyone else around her wanted to do.  The only exception was when Petunia came out, because she prioritized fawning over the baby above everything else.  She spent most of her time in the wooden house Thistle had helped her put together and decorate, which was on the living room floor beside his own.  Every time anyone gave her a gift she did not know how to properly use, she simply put it in there, so that she had a sort of miniature treasure hoard that she slept in like a dragon.  But she’d also stuffed the wooden house full of fluff and blankets to make it a proper nest.  Thistle could tell it was because she was half-hoping it would host an egg or a child someday, but for now it made it very cozy for Thistle to sit in with her when he felt like it.  He was getting more comfortable around her–he wasn’t scared to sit in her coils anymore, having complete confidence she wouldn’t attack him.

Moon kind of wandered around.  They were sure to always keep a window cracked open for him, so he could visit without feeling trapped in the house.  He vanished into the night outside sometimes, but he spent a lot of time bathing in the moonlight on a windowsill or roof.  Thistle kept asking him not to go out and seduce anyone else and Moon assured him he wouldn’t, just that he was often seized by wanderlust that he needed to get out of his system.  He complained endlessly about the light during the day, but he’d shifted to more of a half-diurnal, half-nocturnal schedule to spend more time with Thistle.  He made himself at home wherever he happened to be–and spent more time than not hanging around Thistle–but apparently felt no need for a house or nest to call his own.  He had his magical shrinking wardrobe that seemed to carry every possession he thought worth keeping.

And now Marigold and Córva were here.  Marigold was healthy enough that it was probably okay to leave him alone, but Thistle was still loath to leave him for any long amount of time.  He spent most of his time in the living room next to Thistle’s house, passing his time doing the exercises the vets recommended for him, writing in Pixish or drawing, watching TV, or reading on Thistle’s phone–Thistle had convinced him to start learning English, although he didn’t seem to be very excited for it.  They’d set up a baby gate to keep Mochi out of the room–Marigold was clearly afraid of her, although she’d shown no major signs of aggression around him.  Córva hung around outside, mostly in and around the lovely little birdhouse Colin had built for her, and she would swoop down to meet Marigold whenever Thistle wheeled him outside.  Teddy brought birdseed out for her, which she always ate happily, though she didn’t seem dependent on it, thankfully, since she was still a wild bird and could come and go as she pleased. 

That just left Trilloras, the social-phobic dryad.  Planted out in the yard.  Thistle had stood by her sapling and begged and pleaded for her to come out over and over again, but nobody ever got any response from her.  Marcy was starting to think maybe she’d imagined the whole thing, but Thistle and Moon always confirmed they’d seen Trilloras, too.

He really wanted her to sign the guest book, though.

“Come on,” he whined, lying out in the grass.  “Just for five minutes.  I won’t tell anyone!”

No response.

“You’re living in our yard, you know!”

No response.

Thistle groaned and rolled over.  Marcy retrieved the guest book from where it lay in the grass beside him.  “We could just try again tomorrow, hm?”

Thistle kicked his feet.  “Why won’t she just come out, though?  Ugh!”

Marcy scooped him up.  “Come on, if she doesn’t want to sign it, she won’t sign it.  It’s not the end of the world.”

Thistle crossed his arms and let himself be ferried back towards the porch.

Marcy smiled at him.

“What?”

“I just think you’re cute.”

Thistle blushed to the tips of his ears.  “What am I doing that’s cute?”

“You have so many friends back in the house, but you’re stuck on making one more out here.”

Thistle crossed his arms.  “It’s just not right that she’s in our yard and won’t talk to me.  Right?”

“Just be patient.”

Marcy stopped.  There was a borrower on the steps.  Looking up at Marcy with ears twitching and tail lashing.  He was young, fresh, and bright-eyed.

“Oh, hello!” Marcy said, keeping her voice low.  He must be new. She'd never seen him. That was a different one, right? “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you.  Do you know Violet and Petunia?”

The borrower rubbed his hands nervously.

Thistle leaned over Marcy’s hand, peering at the unknown borrower curiously.  “Do you speak English?”

His mouth struggled to form words, then he nodded.  “Yes,” he said bashfully.  “I’m just shy.  Sor-sorry.”

“It’s okay.”  Marcy knelt down, letting Thistle off into the soft grass.  “It’s great to meet you.  What’s your name?  I’m Marcy, and this is Thistle.”

The borrower clambered down the stairs, hoisting himself with his strong arms.  “My name’s Jax.”

“It’s great to meet you.  Do you need something?”  Obviously it would be fine if he didn’t–Marcy would be excited about any magical creature staying here for any reason at all–but since borrowers seemed so shy, it felt… odd to see one approach so openly and directly, and with no apparent goal, as a complete stranger.

Jax stopped by Marcy’s shoe.  Thistle gave little jumps of excitement but said nothing.

“A dryad told me this is a place where lots of different magical creatures live in peace,” Jax said.  “Even predators.  Is that true?”

“Yes!” Thistle shouted, excited.  “Yes, it’s so true!  You can come live here, too!”

Marcy turned back towards Trilloras’s tree.  “A dryad told you that?”

Jax followed her gaze.  “A dryad far away.  Is that a dryad too?”  His tail swished excitedly.

“Yeah, but she doesn’t want to come out and talk,” Thistle said sourly.  “You talked to a different dryad?’

Jax nodded.  “And she said everyone lives in peace here, even predators! I wanted to see it for myself.  A bunch of different kinds of creatures living together! Even predators!”

How would a second dryad have known about their house, and why would it have told this random borrower to come here? It was... strange. Confusion overtook Marcy's excitement briefly.

“You’re welcome to see it!” Thistle cheered.  He didn't seem to care about the details much at all, too excited about the paradise they were building. “Yes, yes!  Come on inside!”

“Er, we just met Jax,” Marcy interjected, noting Jax’s demeanor.  “I don’t know if he’d be comfortable coming inside just yet.” And this whole thing felt...fishy.

Jax nervously swished his tail.

“We could bring someone out here to meet you,” Marcy said.  She had all day, after all.  She could bring Severa and Moon and Jewel and Violet out one at a time and just watch them all talk.  The thought made her giddy.  This was so much better than a PhD program.  “Did you want to meet… A predator?”  He’d sounded so excited about it.

Jax nodded.  “That sounds lovely!”

“Okay.  Wait right there.  Thistle, wanna come so you can translate?”  There was still a bit of a language barrier between Marcy and Severa, although they’d both been working to close it.  But best not to have any misunderstandings.

Thistle nodded, and Marcy picked him up.  “Okay.  Wait right there, Jax.  We’ll be right back.”

Marcy went inside and found Severa upstairs, looking out the second-story window.  “Who were you talking to?” she asked.

“There’s a new friend!” Thistle said.  “Another borrower!  Do you want to meet him?”

Severa flicked her tongue out.  “Yes, as long as he also wants to meet me.”

“He does!” Marcy said.  “He…”

She trailed off, because something caught her eye out the window behind Severa.  Oh no.  Oh, no.  Buster, the neighbor’s dog, was trotting right towards their front yard.

“Shit!”  Marcy dashed away immediately, leaving Thistle and Severa in the dust.  She leapt down the stairs as fast as humanly possible, nearly falling if not for the bannister.  She threw the front door open just as Buster started to bark.

Jax was standing in front of the dryad sapling, examining it while biting his finger.  His ears swiveled as he heard the dog rapidly approaching.

Apparently Jax did not possess very good survival instincts, because he turned to face the dog barreling towards him with its mouth open and teeth exposed–and did nothing.

“Shit!” Marcy shouted, sprinting over.  “Jax, run!”

It was too late.  Buster reached the borrower and snapped his jaws around him.  The tiny, furry body disappeared with a pained, high-pitch squeak.

“Buster!” Marcy shouted.  “Drop it!  Fuck!  Drop it!”

She tried to reach out to grab his collar, but he dashed away from her like they were playing a fun game.  “Drop it!” Marcy screamed. The image of Jax’s body disappearing into that maw was burned into her brain.

After an agonizing minute of chasing him in circles as his tail wagged, Marcy finally managed to catch his collar.  “Drop it!  Drop it!”  Tears streamed down her cheeks, blurring her vision, but she refused to let go or give up.  She forced Buster’s head towards the ground.

Buster finally opened his mouth and let the drool-covered bundle drop into the grass.

“Shit!” Marcy said, seizing Jax immediately.  His body ragdolled in her hand, and oh God, there was so much blood.

She clutched him to her chest and went back inside, slamming the door.

***

They made an emergency call to Lalitha and Jaden, but it was obvious Jax was dead on arrival.  Thistle tearfully pressed his ear to Jax’s chest to listen for a heartbeat.  Severa checked his pulse and smelled him over for signs of life.  Moon tried what healing magic he had, but the borrower’s body was so ravaged by the dog’s enormous teeth that he’d probably died more or less instantly.

Colin blew his lid when he found out what’d happened.  He stormed to the neighbor’s house immediately, and the volume of his shouting at her could be heard even all the way from Marcy’s bedroom.  He couldn’t very well say that Buster had murdered someone, though–so he settled for saying Buster had killed a small animal Marcy had been fond of, which wasn’t exactly a lie, and that this was the last straw and if he saw Buster loose on the lawn again, he was going to call animal control.

The neighbor promised to keep a closer eye on the dog, then got away from him as quickly as possible.  Colin was still fuming when he got back to the house.

He decided it was finally time to put up a fence. Their property was big enough that they couldn't really fence in the whole thing, but Colin had enough handyman know-how to put up a fence at least around the immediate vicinity of the house. Chainlink was the perfect option, since it'd allow small creatures to slip through but block bigger ones.  The humans all had to pool together their money to get the funds for it, but they all agreed it needed to be an immediate priority.  Marcy still walked around looking shellshocked, and she constantly stayed in the same room as Thistle, hovering protectively.

Not even Violet had any success getting ahold of Jax’s family or friends, so they buried his body in the backyard and had a little funeral themselves.  Marcy set up a little grave with a headstone, and they all stood around looking very solemn.

“A damn shame,” Teddy said.  “No little critter deserves that.”

“Yeah…” Thistle said.  He was crying mightily.

“Does anyone want to say anything else?” Marcy said.

“Um,” said a small, unknown voice.  “I could.  Who are we mourning?”

All eyes fell on the new voice–which was–

It was Jax.  Just standing there at his own funeral.  He looked just as fresh and bright-eyed as a few hours ago before he’d been mauled to death.  Not even a tear in his clothes, or a hair out of place.

Marcy blinked at him.  “Uhhh-”  She looked from the grave to the new Jax, as though trying to figure out how he might have crawled out of the little shoebox coffin they’d made him.  But no.  He’d clearly come from a different direction, approaching while they were all looking at the grave.

“You're dead,” Severa said bluntly.

Jax blushed.  “Um, no, I'm just fine.  See?”  He did a handstand, tail wiggling in the air.

“Hey, uh, Jax…” Thistle said.  “You're not… actually a borrower, are you?”

Jax inverted himself upright sheepishly.

***

@static-stars

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