#this is something like one of four or five large sections.

[mysterynoel]

12 Days of Ficmas Day 4 - [REDACTED] Treat 2022

Title: TBD

Fandom: Fire Emblem: Three Houses

Ship: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd / Female My Unit | Byleth Eisner

First Worked On: November 2022

Last Worked On: January 2023

On the afternoon of the eighteenth, just as Dimitri was sending a photo of his lunch to Dedue as proof he was eating, he heard a knock on the door. Answering it, he found a woman who looked vaguely familiar: Byleth.

She gave a small wave. “Hi, I’m Byleth Eisner, the RA on duty for the Blue Lion.”

“I’m Dimitri Blaiddyd.”

“We’ve met before, right?”

“Once or twice, but we really didn’t speak.”

“I thought so.” She unfolded a piece of paper that he recognized as the sign-up sheet. “According to the sheet, you’ll be the only person staying here during the break.”

“Shouldn’t there have been students from the residence hall moving in here?”

“There should have been, but there weren’t that many students staying. To add onto that, the Ashen Wolf has more than a couple of students graduating this weekend. That complex will be hosting the majority of them.”

“I suppose that makes sense.”

“If you have any questions or need anything, I’m in room 406. You can also text me. Do you have my number?”

“I don’t think I do.”

She took out her phone and unlocked it before handing it to him, the messaging app opened. “Can you put your number here?”

He typed it in and handed it back to her.

She typed something and put her phone away, his phone dinging not even a moment later.

Looking at the screen, he saw the new message with the sender name “Maybe: Byleth.” Hey, it’s Byleth. :)

“Now you have my number. Let me know if you need anything.”

[deaconusdelirium]

ᰔᩚ Older bf!Simon indulging his kid at heart

-

Simon never really minded the fact that his childhood was stripped from him, it happened, it’s over, what can he do about it? Nothing. Best move on to more important things. He thinks about it, but it no longer effects him. He’s human, so at some point he’s going to watch a kid play to their hearts content like it was a foreign thing to him

Simon who raises a brow at every little thing you do when he finally starts to love you. Watching you stare at the toy section a little too long before picking out a coloring book and even longer at the crayon section. The basket in the crook of his elbow as he crossed his arms.

“What’s the difference, luvie? They all color the same” he huffed quietly, earning a soft glare in return. “Oh hush, they’re not the same. See? These ones are pastels, these ones have glitter, this one has forty colors-” you go on as he rolls his eyes and stares off down the aisle. His attention immediately being brought back as you all of a sudden stop. Then he seen what you were eyeing. The colored pencils. He looked at them and then at you before sighing and walking over. Grabbing them and show them to you. “What’s the deal with this one?” He asks, trying to find the difference yet again between the crayons and then pencils. You step forward and then smile almost sadly. “I’ve never really had colored pencils, always seen them but my parents told me they’d go in the trash one way or another” you replied. He didn’t even think twice before putting them in the basket

Simon who watches you later on that night color in the first page that stands out to you. Seeing you color outside the lines but never really seeming to mind. “Inside the lines, darlin” he mumbled as he laid in bed. One arm propping him up as you laughed softly, “oh hush, leave me alone. I like it” you smiled, “you like it messy?” He asked, “well… when you put it that way it sounds sloppy. But everyone always got mad that I colored outside the lines. Found being too perfect was always boring and never really fun. But I like this” you leaned back, looking at the paper as he nodded. Picking up a pencil and then gave a small scribble to the paper.

Simon who finds comfort in walking beside you down a sidewalk. At first he was confused, one second you both were walking and the next he was yanked back, “what’s wrong?” He looked around for any sign of trouble, then looked down at you, realizing you were counting your steps in the large rectangles in the concrete. “I stepped four steps in the last block, if I take another step, this one will be five” you muttered. Deciding not to question it, he picked you up, setting you in the next block and started walking along side you again. Now every time you walk together, he counts how many steps you take in each one, stopping and waiting for you if you need to jump a little or if you mess up your numbers, “you’re at three, luv”

Simon who pretty much never questions anything you do anymore, you want something? He’ll get it for you. Even if it’s a little bottle of bubbles, he’ll grab an extra bottle just so that if you ever run out, you’ll have another. He won’t admit it, but likes seeing which bubble will last the longest before popping

Simon who goes shopping with you and helps you pick out a stuffed animal, which turns into stuffed animals. “Oh- look at this one Si, this one’s a seal” you picked up a chunky looking stuffed animal. Giving a squish before holding it out to Simon, who gives a squish and then takes it into his large calloused hands. Scrunching it a few times and lays his head on it, then nods. Looking at the others, “look at this one, babe, it’s a shrimp” he chuckles, picking it up and showing you. A smile blossoming on your face as you grab it. You both going home with stuffed animals of your own, who later get turned into cuddle buddies. Sedrick the Shrimp and Samuel the Seal

Simon who will bring you your favorite lunch with a nice drink on the side to your work. Walking in pass the reception desk and into your office, seeing that you’re on a call, he holds your food so he can personally give it to you as he walks around the place. Mindlessly playing with a few little trinkets you got lying around. He puts the bag of food between his chest and arm, the drink in his hand while his other squeezes the chicken stress ball. Giving a small chuckle as its eyes pop out with every squeeze. Then he finds another little toy. A crane of sort that has a string attached to the tip that’s holding a ring at the end. A small hook on the beam as he tries to get the ring onto the hook. Giving a quiet “yes” as he finally gets it. Then hands your food over with a kiss when you’re done

Simon who stays up with you one night, not having to worry about waking up early for work. So he has you get up, telling you he’s hungry and that he wants to get something to eat. Then when you tell him you have to get ready. He protests, pulling your hand and tells you that he’s not going out to impress anyone and that he’d rather you be comfortable than walking around fully dressed with your clothes you wanted to wear tomorrow, just to get fast food. Tells you that he feels better when you feel good. Both of you don’t have to worry about the burdens of adult life that early morning

Simon who goes to the Lego section with you- well, more like he drags you to the Lego aisle. Telling you that he likes this one he seen a few days ago. Pretends to look for it when he made it up as an excuse so you two could actually look for something to build together. “Look at this one love, it’s a picture frame” he holds up a box, showing you. “I like that one, but I also like this camera one” you also hold up the box, he looks between the two. Eyes darting to the side before something catches his eye. “Baby, look. These are bracelets, you put little legos on them”. He immediately grabs the box, dropping them all into the cart, not even minding the price it’ll come out to. “We should look at the friendship bracelets” he buys you the bracelets anyways, going home and building the legos together, putting a Polaroid of you two beneath the camera one. Putting a picture in the picture frame one, and you both wearing the lego bracelets

Simon who picks out baby clothes, not boring bland pink or blue ones. No, those are too cliche, no, he wants something that will make those beautiful eyes he knows your little baby have, pop out. Even if he has to special order a few clothes and blankets, he’ll do it. Little onesies that have pictures of Sedrick and Samuel that were obviously custom made by the best and most liked shop.

Simon who signs your little one up for whatever their heart desires. They want to try soccer? He’s going to buy them a small goal and a ball so they can practice in the backyard of your home. They see an event coming into town and they want to go? He’s more than willing to take them. They want money for a book fair? He knows the teachers are assholes so he waits until they get home so he can go back with them. Helping them pick out whatever their little heart wants. Erasers, book marks, little toys, it’s all theirs. They want extra cuddles for the heck of it? He’s bringing you down with the two of them.

Simon who ends up healing his childhood through you and his kid. Even if he was a little embarrassed about it all in the beginning, he realized that he’d rather make memories than skip them being shy and hurting you and your kids’ feelings.

(He totally has his own stash of toys and his own coloring books he’s accumulated over the years he’s known you. He even has his own blankets with hero’s and stuffed animals of his own) ᰔᩚ

-

not really proof read, but you get the idea. Just had this in my head for a bit

[unholyhelbig]

now i need more firecrest asap after that cliffhanger

Title: Firecrest (Part 5/7)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six]

Summary: Kate Bishop and y/n have an unspoken agreement that revolves around being enemies with benefits. But when Kate's new mentor is someone Y/n is very familiar with, things become complicated.

Warnings: Please, please, please read these, it's a heavy chapter. Kidnapping, torture, cigarette burns, blood, Cutting, getting stabbed (Idk how to explain it, istg it's not knifeplay), physical violence, horrible grammar, and let me know if I forgot anything please.

[A/n: I promise I don't think Clint or Eleanor are bitches... maybe Eleanor a little bit. This is for plot purposes! Eleanor is a MILF, I don't make the rules!]

The fist was strong enough to crack against your jaw like a whip. It was a rude awakening, one you were sure had shattered bone and most definitely filled your mouth with a helping of metallic blood that you weren’t quick enough to swallow. You let it choke you, your mind still slow and too foggy to acknowledge the position you were in. 

Strung up as if you were about to be carved with a butcher's knife and served up for Thanksgiving dinner. Your eyes refused to adjust right away, but you caught the glimpse of golden iron knuckles, the glint from a nearby light the only thing that you could pinpoint past the pulsing pain and the garbled breaths you could take. 

Another hit, this time aimed a little higher. You felt the edge of the metal dig into your skin and the steady waterfall of warmth that began to drip down the side of your face and off your chin. It spread to your stomach, which was startlingly bare. The simple fact that you might be nude was enough to jar you from whatever unconsciousness that lingered. 

You pulled in a painful breath, pinpricks of cold air filling your lungs. You felt like you were underwater, completely submerged. While the thundering ache of your wounds caused concern, what scared you more was your current position; a rope had been wrapped around your wrists and thrown over a beam on the ceiling. It was tied to an iron hook bolted to the wall, effectively lifting your arms uncomfortably over your head, the soles of your now-bare feet barely touching dirt. 

They’d stripped you of your blazer and the blue that you had agreed to wear to please Kate. It was never a color you enjoyed, reminding you too much of the broken crystals and toxic chemicals that had gotten you here in the first place. Thankfully, they’d left you in your sports bra and dress pants. Their hits were meant to wound deeper, to strip you of skin and damage tendons beyond repair. 

You were in a horse stable, or something that was once used as such. On either side of the long structure were the sectioned spaces for the large animals, but they’d been fortified with iron bars. It reminded you too much of  a prison despite both ends of the building being open and giving you ample views of the night sky. The cold wind brought goosebumps to your bare skin. 

 A groan pushed past your lips. You tried to use what little strength you had left to pull yourself up, just to alleviate the pressure on your shoulders, but there was no such luck. Your muscles twitched before giving out entirely. You settled for blinking the dripping blood from your eyes and taking a look at your attacker. 

There wasn’t much clarity to be had. He was, by all accounts, a white man with too much scruff and a cowboy hat for shits and giggles. You weren’t about to scoff at his choice in attire. You had no power in this situation. You couldn’t feel your fingers, much less create a spark from them. With the amount of hay scattered about, not only would it be pointless, but it would end up killing you in the process. 

“Oh good, you’re awake.” His breath leaked from his mouth in streams of smoke. You weren’t sure if it stemmed from the cold or the cigarette between his lips. He swiveled, calling out “She’s awake!” 

The sound-off didn’t bring an immediate presence. But Texas, as you kindly dubbed him in your sedative soaked brain, stepped forward and plucked the cigarette from his lips before pressing the angry red tip against your collarbone. He stamped his filthy habit out. 

A grunt escaped you, and you pulled once more on the uncomfortable ropes that had you bound. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of breaking from a little burn and some unfair fighting tactics. It hurt like hell, bit into your skin. Up close, he had yellowed teeth from his vice, and his mouth clicked when he smiled. “Boss said we could rough you up, makes for better television.” 

“Here I was,” you panted, voice gravelly “Thinking you were the boss.” 

He smiled thinly at that, the light in his eyes faltering. He let the extinguished cigarette drop to the lightly packed dirt floor, hooking his thumbs into his belt-buckle and taking an admiring step back. He appreciated his handiwork, the two wounds on your face and a third against your heaving chest. 

“Aw, leave some fun for the rest of us, will you?” another voice. A woman. 

You whipped your chin up much too fast, your head suddenly swimming at the quick movement. It had been a mistake and took a few moments for you to orient yourself again. Her presence didn’t give you much clarity, if any. She was dressed warmly for the crispening weather, a black coat and black leather gloves. Her face was obscured by a solid gold mask, only holes cut out for the sharp blue eyes that were so familiar. 

“How’s my prisoner holding up?” She cooed, taking your face in one hand. She squeezed your cheeks, forcing you to look at her. The aching pain in your jaw shot up to a slowly-forming headache. “Oh, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten already? Sweet girl, you confessed your undying love to me. I thought you’d show more enthusiasm. 

You could feel the blush moving across your cheeks, an annoying pink tint that gave you away. You wanted to spit in her face, but it wouldn’t have been productive, you feared. It would only anger her, and leave you unsatisfied. So you dragged a breath in and steeled yourself with an icy frown. She wore Kate’s bracelet. 

“No matter,” She released you and a rip of pain moved through your shoulder blades, her fingers trailing against your well-defined stomach, nails leaving subtle pink indentations. “Flattery will get you nowhere, y/n.” 

You snarled “What do you want?” 

“From you, darling? Absolutely nothing. You’re not as important as you think you are.” She tsked, circling you like a hungry shark. “Pretty, but not important. You’re nothing more than a pawn. All I want is for you to sit pretty and wait for your father.” 

The fire that you couldn’t conjure from your fingertips lit your stare in a dangerous red. The masked woman tilted her head to the side in what you’ve come to realize was interest. A low hum rumbled from her chest. You glowered at the two of them, drawing in breaths and releasing them in a way that caused the less pain. 

Of course this had to do with Clint. He’d waltzed back into your life, stirred up old feelings, and had effectively gotten you kidnapped. You didn’t know where Kate, your Kate, was. The thought made you thrash a little harder against your binds. The sharp sting of coarse rope cut into your wrists, a line of blood no bigger than a teardrop, slid to the crook of your elbow in response. 

“He doesn’t know where you are, sweetie.” 

She tutted, shaking her mask-clad head and stirring the raven hair that hung lazily on her shoulders. The woman kept a keen eye on you, as if you had anywhere to go, but she reached blindly back towards Tex. He wore a confused expression for a moment before the gears in his head started to turn and brush off the cobwebs. He flicked open his pocket knife and handed it to her. 

“Don’t you think it’s a shame that print is dying? Holding up a phone with the time and date just isn’t as motivating as it once was.” 

It was your turn to be confused, but it only lasted as long as it took for the blade to touch your skin. This time, you couldn’t hold back the scream. She was much too slow with her cut, much too methodical. She’d done this before, maybe with livestock, but she knew how to maximize the stinging pain 

She was carving into your flesh, something that would stay with you until the end of time. They were coordinates, you knew by the third agonizing number that she chiseled right below the burn that Tex had inflicted. She tried to silence you with her incessant coos and tender exclamations that it would all be okay. 

How could it? The veins in your arms were straining just to quell the sharp pain of her handiwork. You were doused in sweat, which stung just as bad in the open cuts than the slices themselves. When she’d finished the last number, you had screamed yourself sore, the adrenaline that made it nearly tolerable leaving as soon as it had filled your veins. 

The masked woman slid her tongue over the sharpened blade, licking away the tint of red before she let it fall to the floor. She’d gotten bored of you, you could tell by the flatness in her stare. Your head hung and mucus dripped from your nose, you made no attempt to swallow it back. 

“Rough her up a bit more, then take the photos.” The woman demanded, her voice retreating. “Send them to every news station in the city. They’re not going to want to miss this.”

Bobbi Morse hated the feeling of cold wood flooring against the soles of her feet. It made the entirety of her shiver, waking her body up and shedding the last of the warmth she had from her shared bed. Her husband had suggested slippers, but they were always left in various places of the house. So she suffered at her own hand, even as she padded to the front door.

Day had barely broken, and a blue haze coated the dewed grass. There were birds at the feeder on the back porch and small paths in the condensation on the lawn from deer that had ventured too far from the edge of the surrounding woods. This, by all means, should be a peaceful morning.

But it wasn’t, because Clint fucking Barton had pulled the glass door back and started pounding on the wooden frame with such fervor that it made Bobbi’s jaw ache. She had thrown on her robe to conserve some warmth, but still felt too exposed in front of her ex-husband and Avenger.

She’d leveled him with a glare that could shatter glass, and he respectfully rushed out. “Bobbi, come on. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t an emergency.”

He had a point. It made her chest seize. They only had one thing in common these days, and it was you. Even then, he didn’t make a point of crashing into her new life. The life she preferred for the both of you. So, she stepped back and allowed him to scramble into the foyer with his musky, cold scent. Clint always smelled slightly like gunpowder and cinnamon despite choosing a more archaic weapon.

“Have you seen the news?”

“What? No, God, you woke me up.”

His eyes widened and he clumsily found his way to the living room, carding around in the couch cushions for the remote as if he lived here. He certainly didn’t, and Bobbi had to swallow back her white-hot anger at the familiarity of his movements.

Still, he navigated the technology surprisingly well and flicked on the television. The room filled with a pale blue light that made Bobbi’s eyes sting viciously. She blinked the moisture away and leaned over the back of the couch, the anxiety in the pit of her stomach starting to swirl.

You’d mentioned going to dinner last night with your girlfriend. Something that Eleanor Bishop had orchestrated. She’d nearly begged you not to go. You didn’t owe that woman anything. But you looked at Kate like she hung the moon and the stars, so there would be no talking you out of the event.

It was only on your way out the door that you slipped in Clint’s presence. The oak had slammed before Bobbi could protest, and even if she could, you were an adult. You were in love. If you saw it fit to establish a relationship with your biological father due to the proximity, then who was she to stop you?

Now, she wished she had because Clint was here, and you weren’t.

Bobbi’s stomach was empty, but she had the acute need to vomit as the words Breaking News flashed across the screen. They’d halted all other programming. She was certain that you were dead, and her fingers moved to the now cold spot on her cheek where your lips had hurriedly pressed in a loving goodbye.

Cindy Moon, reporter extraordinaire, was freshly dressed in her usual suited ensemble. She looked so put together, even for the special report. How could she look so calm? Rationally, Bobbi knew it was her job to do just that, but the ringing in her ears was starting to wash out every coherent thought.

“Word coming out of our own studio, and it seems, multiple stations across the state. Current Congress Candidate Lance Hunter has been issued a very public call to arms. This morning, a photo of his step-daughter Y/n Morse, has been released nationally. Due to the graphic nature of this photo, we here at NNC will not be showing the image.”

Bobbi was relying on the sofa to hold her up now. Her world tilted and she’d knowingly stopped breathing, curling her fingers into the rough fabric. Lance hadn’t woken up yet, and she knew the scream that threatened to bubble into her throat would do just that.

“The message was clear,” Cindy sadly continued “It’s up to Lance Hunter to make the next move, and follow the coordinates. We will continue to update the public on this matter. But for now, we encourage the general public to disregard the message and let law enforcement handle the matter.”

Let law enforcement handle it. Like the department has ever done one competent thing in their lives. She had faith in you. She’d trained you herself and with experts in her craft that had been hardened enough to impress her. But she worried for you like any mother did. It wafted from her in waves.

“Show me the photo.”

“I don’t think that’s the best idea.”

“You don’t get to come into my house and tell me what is or isn’t a good idea. The photo Clint.”

Her tone left no room for argument. His phone was comically bright, and she winced at the white light that leaked from the screen as he fumbled to get her request pulled up. She saw his shoulders tighten and his jaw clench when he got to where he wanted. Such small reactions that anyone normal wouldn’t realize his fear. But Bobbi wasn’t normal.

She grabbed the phone with one hand and pressed her cold fingers to her lips with another. Still, an involuntary groan escaped her throat. She’d read once that wolves howl despite danger when they feel the need to grieve at the horrors committed.

There was almost more blood and bruising than skin. Your head was dipped, so she couldn’t see your eyes but she prayed they still held life. You were strung up, clearly straining against your binds. The cuts in your chest made her own burn horribly. They’d beaten you savagely.

“What’s going on?” Lance had padded down the carpeted stairs, moving with the silence of a ghost. “Clint?”

Neither of them answered, so Lance flicked his gaze to the television, frowning when a headshot of himself was front and center. A photo of you and him slotted right next to it. It was your high school graduation, chords around your neck as you beamed with your diploma in hands. He stared at you in the photo as if you’d been elected president.

Lance tepidly took the device from Bobbi, who let it go without her usual fight. She’d fallen into his side, pressing her nose against his neck and letting her shoulders shake with silent sobs. His eyes misted over immediately, hand tightening around the phone.

Clint wasn’t expecting the hardness in his stare when he did finally lift his gaze. “This is for me.”

“They want you to go there.”

“I assume you’re coming with us.”

“She’s my daughter.”

“No,” Lance snarled with the ferocity of a wild animal scorned, moving his hand soothingly on his wife’s back. “She’s mine.”  

The hiss that pushed past your lips reminded you too much of letting the air out of a bike tire. It was a weak sound, and even as you moved in and out of consciousness, you resented the fact. If there were ever a time to be feeble, it was now.

The pain hit you before you fluttered your eyes open. They felt heavy, refusing to acknowledge the lack of adrenaline that you now held close to your chest. You registered the exhaustion in your bones, the ache in every part of your body where Tex had struck. He’d left small expanses unmarred, but anything that would show your bruising to the camera was hit with iron knuckles, with another lit cigarette or the tip of the caked blade.

Just like the woman in the mask, he’d soon grown bored of you. You were vaguely aware of being moved, being thrown into one of the cells that lined the walkway. There was no haste to pull yourself up, even if you were able to. You were shaking too much, and soon gave way to unconsciousness.

There wasn’t a way to tell how much time had passed, but when you startled awake and tried to sit up, you were met with quick resistance. You clenched your eyes shut until you saw stars, trying to sit up again, but being pushed down to a scratchy mattress by a hand.

You thought you were alone. The fight or flight kicked in and your eyes sprung open. You struggled against the hand, the touch that was so familiar but in the way that Kate’s eyes were on the balcony. You were breathing frantically, panting in fear.

“Hey, hey, hey” a raspy voice tried to soothe, but there was nothing soothing about being under someone’s hand without a proper way to move. You were sure you’d cracked a few ribs, and maybe even your jaw with that first, startling hit. “You need to relax, stop moving.”

Despite the growled warning, you turned your head and gaged the person who was so easily restraining you. Kate. Or maybe it wasn’t. You felt a shiver rock through your body at the sight of her. You didn’t trust what you were seeing, not right away. That had gotten you into deep, scalding water just the day before.

You were sprawled on a twin bed that rested on a metal frame. The mattress was stuffed with newspaper, crinkling with each shallow breath you took. It was the only accommodation in the dusty cell other than a tin bucket that you didn’t much care to think about.

Kate was in her tactical pants, pitch black and stained with dust. She wore a tank top that revealed yellowing bruises, lacerations that she had nursed the best she could. Nothing near what had been done to you, but it made your heart clench all the same. She’d been hurt, and you wanted to carve out the heart of whoever dared lay a hand on her.

A sad whimper escaped you and her hand stroked the side of your face as if it were habit. She’d taken her purple jacket from her shoulders and pressed it to the carved numbers against your chest, effectively staunching the blood. You were grateful for the act of kindness, for her warm touch.

“You’re okay, it’s okay.”

It most certainly was not okay, but the certainty in which she said it made you want to believe that it was. Her fingers brushed over your arms and any exposed skin that she could see. She assessed the wounds like she understood exactly where they were, making sure they hadn’t started to leak blood once more.

How long had she been here? You hadn’t reached out after your fight. There were clear lines drawn and you weren’t going to step over them. You felt a burst of relief when she’d texted you, demanding that you wear blue and show up on time to dinner. You had done both without question.

Kate must have sensed the questions brewing behind your stare. Her tender touch moved to your forehead, carding her fingers through your hair in a comforting gesture. The ghost of a smile on her face “Don’t think too hard, okay? I don’t know if you’re bleeding internally or not.”

Your pitiful chuckle turned into a cough, Kate’s expression dropping, filled with worry. She waited until you were done, rubbing small circles against your bare arm. You noticed the small split that seemed to keep reopening against her lip. The very one you’d clocked during your last real conversation.

You swiped your thumb gently across her cracked lips, frowning “You’re bleeding.”

She laughed wetly, dropping her head letting her tears fall. She’d grasped your nearest hand with both of hers, absently playing with your fingers, squeezing and holding them to make sure you were real. You wanted to embrace her, to quell her fears, her misery. But you couldn’t move more than an inch.

“I thought you were going to die,” Kate croaked out, not looking up. “I could hear everything, smell the blood, even from here. I was certain that with each hit, you wouldn’t wake up and we would leave things… we would leave them in that stupid alleyway.”

Your mouth was dry, throat burning. She gripped your hand harder to wash away her own trembling. You didn’t deserve her forgiveness, you knew that. But there was the pulled feeling that you needed her more than anything right now.

“I hid in the corner with my hands over my ears like a coward. I was certain that you’d die right past my reach and there was nothing I could do about it. That the very last image you would have of me, of us, was that horrible night.”

“Stop,” you begged in a broken voice, fingers brushing lightly against her jaw. Kate glanced up, static gray eyes rimmed in red. She swallowed hard and watched you carefully. “Katie, this is all my fault. All of it. I’ve spent years denying my emotions. It was going to blow up eventually. It was only a matter of time.”

You carefully started to sit up, she drew in a sharp breath and opened her mouth to object before snapping her jaw shut. You’d always been able to handle yourself, stubborn until the very end. You pressed your fingers into your ribs to quell the ache.

Carefully, you put your hands on either side of her cheeks, wiping away the dampness across the flushed expanse. She’d never let you hold her like this, but she melted into the touch with a starved sigh. She hiccupped, trying to catch her breath as she scrambled up onto the bed next to you, her arm flush against yours with a comforting heat.

“We’ll get out of this,” You leaned your forehead against her own. This time, it was you who desperately searched for a grounding factor in her hands, calloused from years of archery. “Even if it means just waiting.”

“God, we’re so bad at that.”

You were aware. Patience was not a virtue when it came to you, and certainly not when it came to Kate. Sitting still for the past week must have been enough of a torture for her before you got yourself thrown right in next to her. Brutally beaten and plaguing her with the mere sound of breaking bones and your screams of anguish.

Your body was starting to grow heavy, the mere pressure of Kate next to you, the evergreen scent of her, was enough to lull you into near sleep. Her arm was wrapped with yours, her cheek resting on your shoulder. You both were on alert for the sound of footsteps, but were only met with cicadas and bullfrogs.

“Y/n?”

“Hm?”

“What did she mean when she said you confessed your undying love?”

A groan rumbled through you and you clenched your eyes harder. How were you supposed to explain that you hadn’t noticed the woman next to you the whole night wasn’t your Kate. There were subtle mannerisms that gave her away, the more you scrutinized them.

The way she’d done her hair, the fidgeting with the gold bracelet. The defiance against Eleanor being so blatant. Kate would coyly roll her eyes, but not entertain anything her mother pushed. It had been different, sharper words and thicker movements. You were just so focused on your own turmoil to notice.

“Because I did.”

Kate frowned, pursing her lips into a straight line and staring at you with a glinting amount of question. Even under the washed-out yellow lights, she was beautiful. Breathtaking. Under her scrutiny, you shivered, aggravating the pain that wracked your body.

“She… looked like you. A carbon copy, and I… told her how I felt.”

“You’re in love with me?”

“Impossibly so.” A sad chuckle escaped you and you averted your gaze to the packed dirt floor. “Long before this whole charade. There’s a loving patience to you that no one has ever shown me before. You are impossible not to fall in love with, Kate Bishop.”

Silence was filled with your struggled breaths, fingers still pushing deep into your ribs to keep the ache from spreading. You sniffed, feeling a cold drip right beneath your nose. You weren’t expecting an answer. Too tired to fight for one.

Kate’s touch was softhearted, fingers brushing gently against your jaw and guiding your eyes to her own. They were glossy, tearful. “You absolute idiot. I knew from the second I saw you that you’d be the death of me.”

You scoffed at the irony of her statement. There was a blooming affection that ripped through you, much harder than the knife against your skin. Her expression was world-altering, earth-shattering and you nearly whimpered under her attention, no matter how sparing it was.

Her stare flicked to your lips, and you gave the slightest nod of confirmation. You’d kissed Kate before, usually open mouthed and in a rushed effort to fight for dominance with one another. But this was different. Her lips were soft, slightly-chapped from the cold. There was a metallic taste to you both, her movements methodic, calculated and full of care.

This time, you did whimper, more of a huff of pain. Her hand had brushed against your side, and the shooting discomfort was enough for you to pull back, if only slightly. Kate smiled guiltily against your lips, whispering apologies into your mouth.

“Lay down,” Kate purred.

You quirked a brow at her “Really? Right here?”

“Not like that. You’re clearly in pain. Lay down.”

She started to lead you onto your back with practiced ease before you could voice your protests (ones that included wanting to stay awake long enough to keep kissing her). You hissed, mumbling something along the lines of her being bossy, but you couldn’t deny the comfort that washed over you when you were finally situated.

Kate settled in next to you, slotting her leg carefully with yours and pressing flush against you, providing the comfort that you so desperately needed. Kate’s nose was cold against the naïve of your neck. An instant relief that quieted any lingering thoughts that would fight off sleep.

The next time you woke up, it wasn’t nearly as startled. Even if you had wanted to move quickly, you felt the twinge of your injuries prevent you from doing so. There was consistent pressure against your mostly bare chest, Kate’s hand had found purchase against the only unmarred part of your collarbone.

Her lips were parted and she let out soft breaths that tickled the small of your throat. You wondered when the last time she slept- really slept- was. She’d been here days, based on her bruising and her clothing that she was so willing to share to provide you with some decency.

“I’m rooting for the two of you.”

You stiffened, swallowing the groan of pain that struggled to rush to the surface. The voice, of course, was familiar and gravelly and filled you with white hot anger. It was the woman in the gold mask. Hardley cost effective and taunting you behind it.

She was standing on the other side of the cell, watching both you and Kate like viewing animals in a zoo. She’d even tossed a greasy bag of fast food through the gaps in the iron. You hated that your mouth filled with saliva at the charcoal scent.

You’d picked at a salad for dinner, and had even thrown up the one cherry tomato you’d managed to consume during Tex’s brutal work. “A peace offering.”

“An olive branch.” You could hear the smirk in your voice. “You might not believe this, y/n but I mean you no harm.”

You leveled her with an acidic glare that could melt the very bars that contained you. It softened when Kate let out a small grumble in her sleep and burrowed closer. She was like a little space heater, nearly to the point of a fever. She had always run hot, just like you.

“No further harm. I could have easily killed you, or your little bird. But I haven’t, so a little trust would be appreciated.”

“If you’re hoping for some sort of Stockholm syndrome, keep holding your breath, lady.”

The stranger shrugged her shoulders and watched the two of you with deadened eyes that made you squirm. You stayed put, partly out of pain and partly because the worst thing you could do right now was stir the sleeping archer in your arms.

So, you whispered, “If you wanted Clint, why not pump him full of sedatives at the dinner table? This seems like an awful amount of work for someone sitting across from you, sipping wine.”

“That washed up Avenger? Please. We don’t want Clint. We want Lance.” She hauled herself onto a large barrel across from the cell, crossing her legs at the ankles. It was a bitter attempt at sprucing up the place. “You said it yourself at dinner, Clint isn’t your father. In fact, I feel kind of bad for you. A dad that won’t give you a second glance, a girl who only entertained your love to piss him off? You have every right to hate him.”

You made a noise in the back of your throat and flopped your head back onto the flat pillow. The ceiling was a nice wooden structure, maybe apart of the original structure. You didn’t need her pity, but it still settled the slightest bit of comfort in your stomach.

You’d ran out of your ability to be tactful someone between the tenth and Eleventh blow to your abdomen. “If you’re looking for ransom, you won’t get much. All of our wealth has been pumped into the campaign.”

“I don’t want money, though, that would be an added benefit. I’m simply helping. What’s a better and more heartfelt story than a candidate saving his poor, inhuman daughter?” She pouted behind her mask, tilting her head at an angle. “It’ll be media gold. It’ll catapult is numbers.”

“I’m sorry, you want Lance to win?”

“Someone does, and they were willing to pay a lot of money to get you here.”

A breath escaped you, one that you tried to stop from shaking. That could be the design of anyone, including your own parents. You wouldn’t be shocked if Eleanor Bishop had stuck her hand into the kidnapping plot. But that also begged the question of who was powerful enough to orchestrate something like this?

“Keep your strength up,” The masked woman hopped from the barrel, “We wouldn’t want you to die in here, now, would we?”

She walked away on surprisingly light feet. They didn’t stir the gravel like Tex’s did. You knew your heart was pounding harder from the interaction, the planned admissions that were just another form of torture. She could be lying. You hoped she was lying.

Kate was drooling under the heavy hand of sleep. You couldn’t help the small smile that fought through your confusion, your pain. She really could sleep anywhere, and you envied her in moments like these. Your body had given in to the exhaustion earlier, but now, you were left with your thoughts and her distant snores.

Your hand closed over hers, playing with her fingers absently as you carded through every single person who may have a problem with your family. The list was long, but there was a shorter list of people who wanted Lance to win.

He’d resigned to the fact that he wouldn’t, and that had been an odd strategy for you at first. Near the start of his campaign, you’d have trouble getting to sleep unless you were in your childhood bedroom, close to the people who loved and cared about you.

Even then, you’d find yourself in the living room with Lance. He watched old westerns when he couldn’t drift off and you had taken to joining him every once and awhile. He told you then, that he didn’t think he would win.

“I don’t get it. Why run at all, then?”

“People are stuck in their ways, sometimes it takes more than one election to change things like that. They’re not used to Inhumans, not like we are. But we’ll change their minds, even if it’s slowly. They’ll learn to love just like we do.”

You’d grown tired throughout the latter half of the 1952 movie ‘High Noon’. Gary Colemans southern, gravelly voice lulled you to sleep that night with your cheek on Lance’s shoulder, the scent of his aftershave coating your throat and your lungs. You never knew if he’d succumbed that night, but you knew that it was the safest you’ve ever felt.

The idea that he would sway the election with a fake kidnapping was out of the question. Because he didn’t care if he won. He’d only ever cared that he changed the world in a good way, one that would cut the sideways looks you got in half.

“Mm, you should be resting.” Kate’s sleepy demands pulled you from your thoughts, her voice vibrating against the side of your throat. You subconsciously pulled her closer, making sure she was comfortable on the sliver of a twin bed. “Cheeseburger?”

“That’s what woke you?”

“No, your thoughts are loud.”

She nipped lightly at your sensitive skin, soothing it with a kiss almost as quickly as she’d created the subtle sting. It was relaxing, a show of affection that spread warmth to your stomach. You wanted to wake up next to Kate Bishop every single day for the rest of your life. Just not in a dirty cell.

The distinct lack of emotion in Eleanor Bishop’s eyes worried Bobbi more than anything else she had seen today. She had seen a lot. A startling amount that had numbed her to a state of shaking paleness. There was no comfortable piece of furniture in this penthouse and that aggravated her all the more.

They’d been intercepted by law enforcement before they could do anything shy of putting on real clothes before being herded like livestock to the Bishop’s residence.  At first, Bobbi had chalked it up to them owning a security company, maybe they had ties to other agencies.

But, they were soon informed that Kate had vanished too and Eleanor was just so beside herself, she couldn’t fathom travel. Her cheeks were red, flushed with emotion, but her eyes remained deadened. Bobbi had to clutch an ugly throw pillow to ground herself.

“Right now, we suggest you do nothing.”

“Do… nothing?” Lance was pacing behind the sofa, trying to breathe in as much outside air from the propped open storm doors as possible. “Forgive me Detective North but that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“We don’t believe that they’re going to do anything further to harm your daughter, but there is a very real possibility that all of this is a ploy to kill you. So yes, Mr. Hunter, we expect you to wait here while we execute the rescue.”

She was a hard woman with sharp eyes that could cut through solid ice to expose a soft underbelly. Bobbi supposed that she had to be in her line of work. In any other situation she would have applauded her finality. Her tenderness. But this was different.

Bobbi held her tongue. She didn’t make it known, and wouldn’t, that she was Mockingbird. The police force didn’t’ actively endorse vigilantes and stumbling out that she was much more competent than anyone they could send in for a rescue would lead to more trouble.

As if sensing her distress, Lance put an assured hand on her shoulder. The former SHIELD agents were getting older and the novelty had long since worn off. You, on the other hand, had a long career ahead of you as Firecrest. The media was meant to believe that you were an innocent, politicians daughter with a bit of a wild streak. Maybe they should do nothing.

“And what of Katherine?” Eleanor forced a hiccup, gently patting below her eye with a dry tissue that stayed dry. “Have there been any demands?”

Detective North frowned down at her notepad “No, I’m afraid not. We’ve heard nothing. They both seemed normal at dinner last night?”

“We’ve been through this!” Clint shouted in a sudden outburst. He’d remained silent by the bar, only losing his composure when his protégé was brought up, he sighed, softening. “Y/n left to get some fresh air and Kate followed her. We didn’t see or hear anything else.”

“It didn’t cause any concern when neither of them returned?”

“Katherine barely regards me as it is.” Eleanor waved off, suddenly dry-eyed once more. “I learned a long time ago that it’s easier to avoid fights that will get me nowhere. I figured that the two of them retreated somewhere they were more comfortable.”

Bobbi hated to agree with Eleanors logic, but could see where she was coming from. Kate was difficult, but only with her mother. She matched the energy that was given and Bobbi had always respected her at a silent distance for that. Little acts of rebellion made life livable.

Her voice pinched and she clutched the tissue “You’re telling me… she could be dead?”

“We’re not telling you anything, Mrs. Bishop. We’re trying to figure out everything that we can before entering an uncontrolled situation.”

“All you need to know is that our daughter is gone and if you don’t send someone in there to get her in the next hour, I’ll do it myself.” Bobbi hissed.

“Right… Well.” Detective North was disturbed by the impassioned anger in Bobbi’s voice, the venom in her eyes. She cleared her throat and stood. “Like I said, stay here. We’ll post a uniform outside of the door. No one in or out. I’ll be in touch.”

She pocketed her notebook and left before any further questions could be asked. Bobbi didn’t understand. They knew where you were, it would be simple to retrieve you and treat your wounds and make sure that you were still alive and breathing. That you were okay.

Eleanor stood from her seat next to Bobbi and poured herself a drink, straight vodka that looked more like a crisp drink of water. She swallowed it without making a face before she moved to pour herself another one but stopped her slender fingers short of the cap. “I knew this was a horrible idea.”

“What was?” Bobbi croaked out.

“Our children seeing one another. Everything was fine until Katherine started making heart eyes at your arsonist.”

“The last I checked, they’re both adults.” Lance said through gritted teeth. “They can make their own choices and have done so for the past decade without incident.”

She laughed dryly “Without incident? Y/n nearly destroyed a historic building with a couple of matches. Do you know why she did that? It certainly wasn’t at the behest of my Katherine.”  

“That’s enough.” Clint silenced the room. He’d fallen back into his quiet contemplation after his outburst with Detective North. “This isn’t helping anything.”

“You’re right.” Her eyes narrowed “aren’t you a superhero? Can’t you suit up in your spandex and retrieve my daughter and your discarded one?”

Nothing more could be said. She’d effectively taken all the oxygen out of the room. Eleanor unscrewed the cap of the vodka and poured herself a heavy-handed second helping before flopping back down into her spot. She’d had too much to drink, but Bobbi wasn’t about to point that out, nor was she going to stop her.

Tag List💕: @noturlondonboy, @slvtformaria, @pianogirl2121, @escapereality4music, @cyberbonesworld, @dark-hunter16, @crescentcrush, @bishopsbeloved, @sammi1642, @bilyashvili, @thinking1bee

[psychhound]

[ID: a banner for a game. it is light tan with a crumpled paper texture, and reads "with breath & sword" in large blue font, and "a solo-journaling game that helps you fight anxiety as you fight monster" below it in smaller font. there is lineart of gauntlets lying over a sword with some flowers at the bottom. end ID]

You find yourself tied to the monsters. The scratchy feeling in your chest. The way your hands tremble. The sweat that dots your upper lip when your senses are telling you a monster is close, again, now, and it’s your job to fight it. To stand up for your ideals and stand up to the threat. Whether you tame it, or this is truly a monster that needs to be slain, only time will tell.

 You know you will succeed. You always have before. But that doesn’t mean it won’t be a challenge.

 Grab your gear. Put on your boots. You know how to find it. You know what to do.

 First, you just need to steady yourself.

[ID: a page spread from the game. it shows "step four" on one side, which goes over the five aspects of the game's oracle. on the other side it shows the first oracle component, where something you can taste determines what your heroic core is. the page is minimally designed, with a blue border and text on a white background, tan accents, and one image of a dragon. end ID]

With Breath & Sword is a solo-journaling TTRPG to help players combat anxiety. 

In the game, you play as a monster-fighter, who is being summoned once again due to the presence of a new monster. Each time a monster appears, you struggle with the emotional effects of the magic: effects that look a lot like anxiety. You must steady yourself before you go off to fight: in the game and in real life.

Over the course of WB&S, players will participate in grounding methods and breathing techniques to calm themselves from an anxiety attack. These methods also serve as the game's oracle in order to determine how the story goes. 

What You'll Need:

A safe space to play 

A method of writing or recording

[ID: a page spread from the game. it is the section called "the science" and goes over the psychology behind the 5-4-3-2-1 grounding technique, the 4-7-8 breathing method, and destroying journaling. it has a few lines about narrative and play therapy, and that the creator of the game used these methods in his social work with neurodivergent teens and adults. end ID]

check out the game on itch now!!

[heimeldat]

I've spent an inordinate amount of time parsing the few examples we have of Old High Gallifreyan text, and here at last is the result of my labors!

The Old Gallifreyan alphabet:

The alternate forms of letters may be used interchangeably with their main forms; the differences are purely cosmetic, much like the difference between cursive and print-style writing.

Now for my analysis of the existing texts. It's rather long, so I've put it below the break!

EXAMPLES OF OLD HIGH GALLIFREYAN TEXT

ITEM ONE

Supposedly from “The Five Doctors,” though I can’t spot this writing anywhere. Translation given in episode.

ORA PSYERPA

O – honorific indicating uniqueness, may be rendered with the definite article “the”

R – combined with the definite honorific, a common abbreviation of Rassilon’s name

A – an alternate version of the possessive “ya,” used only when the possessive noun is already abbreviated

Psyerpa – a general term for harps and other large stringed instruments

Thus, the full text reads:

O-Rassilon-ya psyerpa

The Rassilon’s harp

ITEM TWO

From “The Colony in Space,” across the bottom of the Doctor’s mugshot. No translation given.

QU  ETHOA TRIOUAX BRIA

Qu – This is not a complete word, merely a letter used in this case for alphanumerical file designation: note that it stands alone, separate from the main text.

Ethoa – exile

Triouax – an infinitive verb, “to persist” or “to remain in effect”

Bria – a conditional modifier used exclusively in bureaucratic contexts, implying the need for occasional update of information or policy.

This text is a record of the Doctor’s sentence, and may be rendered something like this: Exile: to remain in effect barring further review.

ITEM THREE

From “The Time of Angels.” Translation given.

JUSYMOU CAIDEU OXA OOYY MAISOM

Jusymou – An archaic greeting, roughly equivalent to “well met” or “hail.”

Caideu – self, soul, or “hearts” in a poetic sense

Oxa – prepositional suffix, “part of”

OOYY – a conceptual abbreviation that combines the two meanings of the solitary letter O (definite article + symbol of individuality) and the mathematical use of the letter Y (usually indicating a dimensional shift). Literally, this means something like the individual, shifted two dimensions. In practice, it refers to a Time Lord’s fifth dimensional aspect.

Maisom – name, designation, identification

Thus, a literal translation would read something like this: Greetings, soul-linked fifth-dimensional name!

Or as the Doctor paraphrases it: Hello, Sweetie.

ITEM FOUR

From “The Five Doctors.” Translation is given, though it’s not specified which face of the obelisk corresponds to which section of the text.

First Face:

RA NASA TO TANA EURIFSTAN OBLR ORE NATA

Ra – where

Nasa – sleep

To – in

Tana – lies, reclines, rests

Eurifstan – eternal, endless, timeless. Here it modifies the verb, so it should be rendered as an adverb.

Oblr – abbreviated form of obelar, tomb or grave

OR – the same abbreviation seen previously, “The One And Only Rassilon.”

E – an alternate version of the possessive “ya,” used only when the possessive noun is already abbreviated

Nata – a basic verb of being, is

This yields the following literal translation: Where sleep-in lies eternally, tomb Rassilon’s is.

Or as the Doctor translates it: This is the Tomb of Rassilon, where Rassilon lies in eternal sleep.

Second Face:

The text on the second face is never seen. The Doctor translates it as: Anyone who's got this far has passed many dangers and shown great courage and determination.

Third Face:

ULIREIF RAENATA TOAAN LAKI FSTA TORARO

Ulireif – to lose everything, to be utterly defeated

Raenata – an emphatic form of the being-verb nata, indicating that something really, truly, permanently is

Toa’an – to win everything, to be crowned victor

Laki – a compound conjunction combining la (so) with ki (and): “and so”

Fsta – an abbreviated form of festoa, a winner or leader

Toraro – future tense of torar, to fail or collapse

Thus: To lose all is truly to win all, and so the winner will fail.

Or as the Doctor puts it: To lose is to win, and he who wins shall lose.

Fourth Face:

KIRA ATOUNA OR TA LIRI EUKI RAATO SUTE ANAAN FEIRLIO REUNT

Kira – takes

Atouna – ring

OR – the same abbreviation seen previously, “The One And Only Rassilon.”

Ta – from

Liri – hand

Euki – a compound conjunction combining eu (then, next, afterward) with ki (and): “and then”

Ra’ato – future tense of ra’at, to wear

Sute – reward, prize, payment

Ana’an – desired, sought-after

Feirlio – future tense of feiril, to get or acquire. Note that this is an irregular verb: the last two letters switch places when adding any tense ending.

Reunt – immortality, eternity

Literally: Takes ring Rassilon-from-hand and then will wear, reward-sought will have: immortality.

Or as the Doctor translates it: Whoever takes the ring from Rassilon's hand and puts it on shall get the reward he seeks: immortality.

[phoebepheebsphibs]

How To Be A First-Time Dad of Four Turtles

Title: How To Be A First-Time Dad of Four Turtles Prompt: New dad Splinter (Rise), very unprepared, but doing the best he can! Fandom:  ROTTMNT Word Count: 2230  Author: PhoebePheebsPhibs Rating:  Gen Characters:  Yoshi Hamato / Splinter, Leonardo, Donatello, Raphael, & Michelangelo Warning: Donnie bites Summary: Notes: No Beta, We Die Like Gram-Gram!

@untitled-tmnt-blog @tmnt-write-fight

Link to AO3 <-

"There, that should do it," Yoshi stated as he pinned up the last set of string lights.

He'd found a little sale, where some family was moving out of their apartment and needed to get rid of some junk. Yoshi still had his savings in a private account that (fortunately) Big Mama didn't know about. He'd dipped into it to buy a couple things, just for starters. He wasn't sure living in the sewers was the life for him or his new... kids?

He just needed some time to get used to it.

Anyway, that little estate sale had plenty of supplies that he could use or refurbish. He'd bought an entire box of lights, plastic tupperware and eating utensils and plates and bowls, some throw blankets, a baby stool, a few plastic bins and buckets, and a series of extension cords. He'd get more whenever he could.

Yoshi had discovered a small area of the sewers during his escape from the Hidden City that seemed rather roomy, and would work out wonderfully for renovations. There were multiple rooms that connected via mini tunnels and corridors into a large expansion, perfect for training in.

Training... for what, exactly? He wasn't 'Lou Jitsu' anymore. He wasn't Yoshi anymore, either. He'd thrown that name and identity away years ago, when he left his Grandpa Shō.

Still... he needed to do something or else he'd lose his mind. He'd found a yoga mat in a dumpster and stole 'repurposed' it so he could do some exercises whenever he got the free time.

"Waaaaaaaahhhh!!"

Which was seeming less and less likely...

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Yoshi shouted out, rushing from his redecorating section and speeding into the opposite room.

He'd left the baby turtles in a plastic bin under a heat lamp in the other room, and had hoped that he could do his work while they basked in the warmth alone. No such luck.

Clingy little things...

"I'm here, I'm here!" he proclaimed as he entered the room, sliding in and kneeling besides the bin, leaning over to inspect the babies. "What's wrong??"

The slider and the softshell were fighting again, nibbling and smacking each other and occaisionally bumping into the other two and disturbing them.

"Oh, you two..." Yoshi groaned, reaching in to pull them apart. "Why can't you just -- Ow! Hey! No biting!"

Yoshi tugged at the two babies, gently tearing them away from each other. They made upset little beeps and chirps at him in response, the slider squirming in his left hand and the softshell wriggling in his right. 

"Now, can you two behave for five minutes, or do I have to put you in time-out?"

He wasn't actually sure why he asked them. It wasn't as if they could understand what he was saying.

But the understood the tone.

The quieted down quickly.

"Very good... now, please, please just behave yourselves so I can finish working on the rest of our... home."

It still hurt to call this mass heap of bricks and slime and mold 'home'. Just like it hurt to call these glorified pets his 'kids'.

It had only been two days. He just... needed to give it some time.

Yeah... give it time.

"Waah! Wah! Wah!"

Uh-huh. Right.

"Okay, that's it!" Yoshi shouted, having reached the end of his rope. "Time-out! You two are going in... in, uh... different boxes! That's what! See how you like that!"

In anger, he grabbed the two arguing turtles again and dropped them into separate containers, then placed them beside the biggest one where the other two turtles sat in confusion, wondering where the slider and the softshell had gone.

The two naughty little turtles, trapped in their separate prisons, started making all kinds of noises. The purple-tinted softshell was beeping and clicking furiously at Yoshi, snapping and biting the edges of his plastic container. The slider with the blue shell was making loud wails as he pouted, slapping the walls of his box and begging to be returned to his 'brother'.

"No, you can't be fight with him anymore," Yoshi scolded.

"Aaah! Wah, waaaah!"

Yoshi sighed with exhaustion and exasperation.

"...Fine. Maybe you're just hungry, hm?" Yoshi suggests. "You sit tight while I get the fruit..."

Yoshi left the four in the room, walking backwards out of the room and watching them every step of the way before turning the corner and going to the room designated as a 'kitchen'. It had a tiny overturned box he pulled from a dumpster and a mini fridge he'd found in an alleyway. New York, what a town... Yoshi rooted through the tiny refrigerator and pulled out a container of half-priced strawberries, chopped them up into itty bitty slices and dumped them onto a little plastic plate. For an added touch, he took a few leaves of lettuce and placed them on the plate as well. Once he was finished, he took the plate back into the room with the others.

"What the -- Hey! You! No!!"

The softshell had literally eaten his way through the plastic box and was starting to chew through the slider's box as well. Surprisingly, the slider was very happy about this and seemed to be cheering his 'brother' on.

Yoshi dropped the plate and ran over to the turtles, grabbing the softshell and yanking him away from the bin.

No one was happy about this.

The turtles started yiping and yowling at him, especially the slider. The softshell took it as a personal offense and defended himself accordingly, twisting his head around and biting down hard on Yoshi's thumb.

"OW!!"

Yoshi clenched his fist and had to fight every knee-jerk reaction to drop the turtle, throw it, or flap his hand to get the child to let go. He released the turtle, but it still held on.

"Let go!" Yoshi shouted, trying to pull him off. He could almost hear the skin on his finger tearing. "Let go!!"

He pulled again, and the baby turtle suddenly yelped. Yoshi had pulled him too hard.

Yoshi released him again, and the baby turtle let go of his thumb, scrambling out of his 'father's' hold and hiding beside the box that still held the slider.

The four creatures watched in terror as Yoshi's thumb began to bleed.

It was silent.

Yoshi felt his face go red-hot with frustration. He yelled loudly. Just yelled, unbottled his anger and pain and... yelled. He shouted out no words, simply expelled his fury at the situation, his fury with the new life he was forced into, the squalor he had been reduced to, the pain of losing everything and suddenly being bridled with four ungrateful kids that couldn't be left alone for fifteen minutes without starting some situation. Once Yoshi had finished yelling his lungs out... he sobbed.

Yoshi wept and wept, the heaviness he'd felt on his shoulders crushing him to the floor. His tears pooled around him, soaking his pants he doubled over, unable to catch his breath. Everything was just too much. He'd lost the love of his life, he'd lost his dream profession, he'd lost his looks and livelihood, he'd lost the last family member he had, he'd lost it all. Everything. And Yoshi sobbed like a baby. 

Not his best moment.

Yoshi only stopped when he heard the weeping and wailing of four tiny babies by his side.

His head rose from his knees, glancing up in panic at the four children.

The softshell was sobbing desperately, cowering in fear at Splinter, afraid... afraid of him? Of his anger?

No, no... he was afraid for him.

The little boxshell turtle was wailing hysterically, clawing at the walls of his box, trying to get to Yoshi. The snapping turtle was crying as well, though not as loudly. The red-eared slider was whimpering and weeping as well, hands pressed against the wall and trying to push it away or push it down, trying to get to Yoshi as well.

Yoshi hiccuped, breathing in quickly as he realized what he'd done.

"Oh, oh, no no no -- I'm so sorry, my little ones, I'm so sorry -- I-I didn't mean to scare you..."

Yoshi reached into each box and picked the babies up, cradling them close. The boxshell kept crying, burying his little face into Yoshi's furry chest as he wiped his tears away. The slider also started rubbing his tiny face across Yoshi's shirt, trying to hug his father while also hiding his wet and gloppy tears. The Snapping turtle wrapped his tail around the rat-man's wrist as he gripped hand, hugging him tight and churring softly against his arm, trying to calm the both of them down. Yoshi started crying softly again as he held each one close to his heart, trying to soothe them. He heard a soft clicking chirp and glanced up to see the softshell somberly creeping towards him, suck-up sniffing as he came towards his toes. He tried to mew out a meager apology as he circled his foot.

Yoshi reached his hand out for him, hoping he would accept the invitation despite all that had just happened between the two of them.

Fortunately, he did, and crawled onto Yoshi's palm, sniveling as he did.

"I'm sorry," Yoshi whispered, bringing the little guy up to his face and nuzzling him with his snout and whiskers. The baby gripped his face and smushed his own snout against him, whimpering as their tears melted together. "I'm so sorry, my son. I didn't mean to scare you or hurt you. I won't do it again..."

The baby cooed at him, nuzzling him gently and patting his cheeks. He accepted the apology.

"Maybe... maybe you need more space than just a box, hm?" he wondered aloud.

He decided to let them roam the room instead, using the box as a makeshift baby-gate to blockade the door so they wouldn't escape. He also cleaned up the fruit and lettuce from where he'd dropped it on the floor. He left the plate out in the center of the room, close to where he sat so he could keep an eye on them.

The little slider nibbled on the lettuce a bit before running around excitedly. He seemed to love the extra space.

The snapping turtle lumbered after him, giddily giggling as he waddled around.

The sat messily munching on the strawberries, covering himself in the juices and skins.

The softshell wandered around the room, sniffing everything and inspecting it all. He growled if the slider got to energetic too close to him. The slider never figured it out.

"Boys, behave," Yoshi reminded them. "I'll still put you in the box if I have to."

That was mostly a joke. But you could tell that they believed him, because they made sure not to get into any fights. At least, nothing bad. They roughhoused a little. But all in good fun.

Yoshi exhaled and laid down on the floor, exhausted beyond all comprehension. The tiny little boxshell turtle chirped at him, almost asking if he was alright.

"I'm fine, just tired," Yoshi replied.

"Peep?"

"Because I've been working on fixing up our home all day. And I just cried a lot. Crying is tiring work."

"Peep, peep?"

"I don't know why. It just is."

"Peep!"

Yoshi felt somthing kneading agaisnt his ribs. He rolled his head over to see the sticky little critter trying to climb up his side.

He chuckled at the sight before helping the littlest one up.

"There we go, that's better, right? All high up now. I bet you can see the whole room," Yoshi joked.

The little baby sat proudly on his father's stomach, surveying the entire room and watching as his brothers played and explored. He then turned and waddled over to Yoshi's chest, rubbing himself clean on his shirt as he did so.

"Yes, thank you for that," Yoshi sighed. "You'll still need a bath, though."

"Peep!"

The little turtle's chirp sounded almost like a laugh. Yoshi chuckled back.

"You know... since you really are my sons now... I suppose you'll need names. Let's see..."

Yoshi elevated himself up on his elbows, studying the tiny baby boy on his chest carefully. He was tiny, had bright yellow spots and some orange-yellow markings on his shell as well.

"...How about 'Sonny'?"

'Sonny' spat his tongue out at Yoshi and blew raspberries at him.

"Okay, okay, maybe not. What about Shelly?"

The baby cocked his head to the side, almost to question his father's mental state if he actually thought that name was a good choice for him.

"You're a picky kid. Fine, fine, I'm sure I can come up with something clever soon... How about for now, I call you 'Orange'? Is that okay?"

The baby turtle plopped himself down, purring quietly. Good enough for now, it seemed.

"Then if you're 'Orange', let's call your snapping turtle brother 'Red', the softshell 'Purple', and the slider 'Blue'. That way I can tell you all apart! I'll get some little handkerchiefs or something to wrap around your shells so I can remember..."

Yoshi sighed.

"...I still have so much work to do..."

He looked out over the group of toddlers, running around and playing as 'Orange' started to fall asleep on his Dad's stomach, comforted by his warmth and one-sided conversation.

"...But I suppose you're all worth it," he smiled.

[nebulablakemurphy]

Moves & Countermoves (Part 15)

Summary: No one ever wins the games, even fourteen years later, Y/N is still playing. Warning: depictions of labor/childbirth and violence/death.

Prologue | One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen

“Y/N,” Effie all but accosts the woman emerging from the hallway.

“What’s wrong?” Y/N frowns, bewildered by Effie’s urgency.

She is in tears, “it’s Cinna.”

“What happened to Cinna?”

“He’s…he’s dead.”

Again the floor is falling out from beneath her, sinking, never ending. “How?”

“I don’t know, dear.” Effie breathes, it’s all being kept hush.

“I have to-” Haymitch left before Y/N, allowing her to rest. Her eyes are still swollen from the tears, no amount of sleep or makeup will hide it. “Haymitch is waiting for me.” Does he know?

“Of course,” Effie nods, excusing herself.

Y/N moves for the elevator, jamming the call button repeatedly with her finger. It dings upon arrival, moving at a snail’s pace to the ground floor.

The outdoor viewing area is open today. As if nice weather is reason enough for a picnic, while tributes slaughter each other on screen.

Chaff is still alive; hiding, waiting it out.

The current threat is monkey mutts, blood rain and the giant tidal wave; that sends Peeta and Katniss’ alliance to meet up with Johanna, Wiress and Beetee on the beach.

“Johanna?” Finnick spots her first, covered in blood from head to toe. “Johanna.”

“Finnick!”

“Looks like we have more allies,” Peeta remarks.

Y/N finds her husband, near the far wall of the indoor viewing area. He’s easier to spot in a crowd after all these years, the width of his shoulders, the color of his hair.

“Just couldn’t stay away, huh?” He is tired, worn down and unfortunately, the only news she has to share does nothing to help.

“Cinna’s dead.” Y/N whispers, plopping down in the seat beside him.

“Blight hit the forcefield, died on impact. Female morphling sacrificed herself to save Peeta.” Haymitch adds to the death toll.

“Do you think he lied? Plutarch.” That’s what gamemakers do. They lie to get in your head.

“His plan is to get Katniss out. I don’t think he lied about that.” If they keep this alliance going long enough-

“What about Peeta?” What about everyone else?

Can’t protect anyone in an arena. “He’ll be with Katniss.”

“Tick tock,” Wiress says, for what must be the hundredth time. Grabbing Johanna by the forearms to spin her.

“What’s wrong with her?” Katniss asks.

“She’s in shock, dehydration isn’t helping.” Beetee tells Katniss.

“I’ll get her some water.” Gloss takes the spile into the tree line. His back is torn up pretty good from the mutts.

“Tick tock.”

Katniss leads Wiress out into the water. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Johanna follows, while Beetee stays closer to shore, winding something on a spool.

“What’s Beetee got there?” Katniss wonders.

“Some kind of coil.” Johanna picks pieces of debris from her axe.

“Did he get it from the cornucopia?”

“Took a knife in the back to get it.”

“Tick tock.” Wiress gasps.

“I can’t,” Johanna holds up a hand in defeat. “Have fun with nuts.”

“Tick tock,” Katniss repeats, though it makes little sense to her. Allowing the water to wash away any blood clinging to Wiress’ hair.

Y/N looks to Haymitch, “tick tock?”

He lifts a shoulder, hell if I know.

Lightening strikes the large tree, at the far end of the arena, twelve times. Almost like- “a clock.” Y/N mutters under her breath, “chimes on a clock.”

“Twelve sections.” Haymitch realizes, “everything stays in its own…the forcefields in between.”

“Oh,” Wiress bobs up from the water. “Tick tock.”

“Tick tock,” Katniss says again, “it’s a clock. Wiress, you’re a genius.”

————————————————————————

With this new knowledge, the alliance heads back to the cornucopia.

“It all starts with the lightening. Then the blood rain, fog and monkeys, that’s the first four hours. At ten, that big wave hits from over there.” Katniss pauses to watch Peeta sketch a crude outline of the arena, with his sword.

“The tail points at twelve,” Peeta adds.

“That’s where the lighting strikes, at noon and midnight.”

“Strikes where?” Beetee asks.

“That big tree.”

Beetee cocks his head to the side, “good.”

“Hickory dickory dock, the mouse ran up the clock,” Wiress is singing softly to herself, beside the water.

Gloss takes a seat beside her to keep watch, smiling kindly. He doesn’t know this song.

“What about the other hours, did you guys see anything?” Cashmere asks Johanna and Beetee, hoping to fill in the other six wedges.

“Nothing but blood.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Peeta moves to stand, “as long as we steer clear of whatever sector’s active, we’ll be safe.”

“Yeah,” Finnick chimes in, “relatively speaking.”

Wiress gasps in surprise, drawing their attention.

Brutus is there with his sword buried in Gloss’ sternum. He had shielded Wiress with his own body. Gloss tumbles into the water. Cannon.

Leaving Wiress dead by Enobaria’s hand. Cannon.

Katniss draws her bow, the other victors now on defense.

Cashmere is lost in a fit of rage, knocking Brutus from the rocks.

The archer lands an arrow in Enobaria’s left arm, the career diving back into the water.

Haymitch scrubs a hand over his face. No time to digest the news as the entire cornucopia begins to spin. What the hell are you doing, Plutarch?

Johanna keeps hold of Katniss for as long as she can, but she is eventually lost to the whirling water.

She’ll drown. Y/N gnaws at the inside of her cheek. She’ll drown while I’m sitting here and all I can do is watch.

The spinning stops, the same way it started; suddenly and without cause. Eventually Katniss is able to kick to the surface, the viewing room cheers.

“Let’s just get what we need and get off the bloody island.” Johanna scowls, patting at Katniss’ back while she hacks up water from her lungs.

————————————————————————

“Besides Brutus and Enobaria, who’s left?” Katniss asks, sifting sand between her fingers.

They are back on the beach now.

“Maybe Chaff,” Peeta offers, “just those three.”

“They know they’re outnumbered, I doubt they’ll attack again.” Finnick reasons, “we’re safe here, on the beach.”

Cashmere hasn’t said a word…not since Gloss.

“So what, we hunt them down?”

“Katniss!” Prim’s howl ends the conversation prematurely. “Katniss, help me!”

“Prim!” Katniss takes off; without back up, or logical thought. Prim is in danger and she needs to save her.

“Katniss, wait.” Peeta chases after her, his leg becoming more irritated with every step. Still he presses on, ignoring it as best he can.

The bird carrying Prim’s scream is shot dead. Jabberjays.

Finnick is the fastest, joining Katniss in the clearing. “Katniss, are you ok?”

“Finnick! Ahhhh!” Annie’s voice draws him deeper into the forest.

“Annie! Annie, where are you?”

Peeta pounds his fist uselessly against the forcefield. They can’t hear him, he can’t hear them.

Katniss and Finnick run back towards the beach, only to realize that they are trapped. Birds wailing all around them. Katniss sees Peeta before she collides with the forcefield.

“It’s ok, it’s ok. They’re just mutts, they’re not real.” Peeta yells, hoping Katniss can make out the words.

She screams, covering her ears, crumpling to the ground. Peeta follows; touching his forehead to the forcefield. They wait for the hour to pass.

Y/N’s lower back is taut, spasming and releasing, stealing the air from her lungs.

Haymitch notices the uncomfortable shifting beside him. “You ok?”

Y/N nods, not trusting her own voice.

Haymitch begins thumbing circles along her spine.

————————————————————————

Word comes from Plutarch, the extraction is happening tonight. A hovercraft commandeered by district thirteen will arrive shortly and they will go. Collecting the remaining victors, under the guise of death.

Beetee’s plan is a good one, it will cause enough of a distraction. Using his wire to conduct electricity from the lighting strike at midnight.

“How do we know the wire’s not gonna burn up?” Johanna demands, leaning heavily against a tree branch.

“Because I invented it,” Beetee looks up at her. “I assure you, it won’t burn up.”

Cashmere stares out at the water. The hovercraft never came to collect Gloss’ body. Did the cornucopia tear it up? Or do they just not care enough to recover it?

Finnick returns to the sea, waiting out the sunset.

Katniss and Peeta find solace in each other, the way they always have.

“I think we need to go.”

“This plan’s gonna work,” Peeta disagrees.

“I think so too,” Katniss whispers. “Once the careers are dead, we all know what happens next. I don’t wanna be the one that shoots first.”

“What if they don’t either? What if all of us refuse to shoot first?”

The gamemakers will send mutts, or perhaps gun them down if they’re feeling impatient. “We might still end up dead.”

“Maybe not,” Peeta lifts a shoulder, “I mean it worked for us last time.”

“They’re not gonna make that mistake again. We both know there’s only one person walking out of here and it’s gonna be one of us.”

“The careers are still out there. I say we stick with these guys till midnight, and if we hear a cannon, we go.”

Katniss nods in agreement.

“Katniss, I don’t know what kind of deals you made with Haymitch, but he made me promises too.”

“Way to throw me under the bus, kid.” Haymitch raises his glass to Peeta before chugging it down.

Y/N just shakes her head. For a man who claims he doesn’t love those kids, he sure does make a lot of deals. With them, for them, doing his damnedest to keep them alive.

When the star crossed lovers kiss, there is no denying it’s real. Katniss loves Peeta, Peeta loves her. Finally she understands, what Y/N had been trying to tell her, that day on the train. Peeta is that person; her best friend, her partner, the one who waits.

“Alright, lovebirds.” Johanna calls them back.

What’s left of the alliance heads to the lighting tree.

————————————————————————-

“You two girls go together now.” Beetee hands Katniss and Johanna the wire. “Unspool it carefully, make sure the entire wire is in the water. Then head to the tree at the two o’clock sector, we’ll meet you there.”

“I’m gonna go with them as a guard.” Peeta insists.

“No,” Beetee’s head snaps toward him. “You’re staying here to protect me…and the tree.”

“No, I need to go with her.” Peeta is not backing down.

“They’re trying to separate them.” Madge realizes, pulling the throw pillow into her lap. The children and her mother are asleep, leaving only her and her father on the couch.

Y/N’s family set up camp in Victor’s Village, providing Everest and Arista some normalcy. In their own house, in their own beds. They are often found in their parent’s room, clinging to pieces they left behind.

“I’m sure there’s a reason.” The mayor shoots his daughter a reassuring smile.

They rarely watch the games together, not since she was a child. Under different circumstances Madge might think their time spent together was nice.

Katniss leaves with Johanna. Staring back at Peeta until the darkness swallows his silhouette.

A few feet later Katniss feels a bit of resistance from the line, tugging lightly. Must be stuck on a rock. “It’s caught on something.”

Brutus cuts the wire, sending the loose end flying back toward Katniss.

Johanna turns on her then, slicing a gash in Katniss’ arm and smearing the blood across her neck. “Stay down.” She tosses her axe at the careers and darts off into the woods.

Katniss pushes herself upright once their footsteps are out of earshot. “Peeta.”

“Johanna,” Finnick comes to check on his friend, after the commotion.

Katniss remains silent, allowing him to pass her by. Gathering her bow, she heads back to the tree.

Cashmere is missing and Peeta is gone. Leaving only Beetee; unconscious and twitching after an ill fated tryst with the conductor.

His spear harbors the evidence, wire still wrapped around it’s blade.

A cannon sounds, symbolizing Chaff’s death.

“Peeta!” Katniss screams.

Finnick sprints back toward the sound, “Katniss, where are you?”

She draws her bow, aimed at Finnick as he returns.

“Remember who the real enemy is.”

Just like Haymitch said…

The artificial storm cloud looms above them, and Katniss knows what must be done. There is only one shot at this, one way it ends.

“Katniss, get away from that tree,” Finnick warns.

She does not heed it, preparing for her final act. Twisting the wire around her arrow, a single shot toward the bolt of lightning. Her body is sent flying when it collides.

The screen goes black, Madge’s mouth agape. Nothing like this has ever happened. What will happen? What will Snow do?

She doesn’t have long to agonize over the prospect before the old communication system hums to life. Static cracking through the speaker. A jumble of nonsense and then a voice, her voice. Madge would know it anywhere.

“Into the woods-”

“Y/N,” Mayor Undersee nearly trips in his haste to reach the receiver. “Sweetheart, are you there?”

“District twelve…” the line crackles, “into the woods.” Then she is gone.

They aren’t able to revive the signal.

“We have to move.” Madge understands.

“She wasn’t making any sense.” Her father argues. “It might be safer if we stay-”

“Y/N is stuck in the Capitol, that may be the last message she ever sends and she sent it here. To you, to me. So we have a chance.”

He squares his jaw, struggling to accept this news. Not because he thinks his daughter is wrong…because he knows that she is right.

“I’m gonna warn the Everdeens and then I’m taking Everest and Arista into the woods where it’s safe. Pounding on doors and screaming, all the way, for our people to follow.”

“Get the kids ready to move, I’ll get your mother.”

“Thank you.” Madge says, chest heaving as she turns on her heels. Waking the children, taking nothing but the clothes on their backs.

Her parents are waiting at the door, with Gale and Katniss’ family.

“How long do we have?” Gale asks, Primrose and Miss Everdeen tucked away behind him.

“Hovercrafts could be here in an hour, maybe two.” The mayor informs him.

“Something tells me they’re in a hurry.”

————————————————————————

“I need you to take a big breath for me.” Haymitch is kneeling in front of his wife. Cupping her face in his hands, the line is down, they can no longer communicate with district twelve.

“I can’t.” Y/N claws at his hands, unable to deny that she’s having contractions, no more than two minutes apart. “Haymitch…” what if they didn’t get the message.

“Everest and Arista are gonna be waiting for us. Madge too.” Haymitch knows it. There is no other outcome. “Thirteen is sending hovercrafts for evacuation as soon as possible.”

“Did we get Peeta?”

“We have Katniss, Beetee, Finnick and Cashmere, for now. The pilot is swinging back around for Peeta and Johanna.” They only have a few minutes before the Capitol fleet arrives. “We’re gonna get them, ok?”

Y/N nods, breathing out through her nose.

“I need you to focus on this.” He runs a hand over her belly, tense with another contraction. “Healthy baby, healthy you.”

————————————————————————

Katniss startles awake, an oxygen mask tied to her face. She’s in the hovercraft. They’re taking us to the Capitol. Beetee is beside her, still unconscious. They must be holding Peeta elsewhere.

The last thing she remembers is the arrow firing, broken pieces of the arena falling around her and the claw.

“Ahhhhhhh!” A piercing scream echoes through the hovercraft.

All the more terrifying because Katniss knows it, she heard it among the jabberjays. Y/N. They are torturing her. Katniss can’t say how, but it must be something awful. Tearing the flesh from her body…

Removing the mask, she scans the area for something, anything she can use, a syringe. All she needs is a clear shot at one of her veins, save Y/N from whatever they’re planning to do next. Then she would move on to Peeta, spare him this hell.

Katniss hides the weapon behind her back, tapping the glowing access panel to open the door.

Y/N is there, sweat clings the material of her dress to her body; mouth open in an agonized howl.

Haymitch is seated behind her, keeping her upright, holding her hands. Cashmere is perched between her legs.

Finnick spots Katniss first, from his place beside Plutarch, at the holographic display table. “Katniss.”

“Katniss?” Y/N repeats, eyes searching for her.

The syringe clatters to the ground, Katniss charging toward her and crouching at her side.

“Honey, are you ok?” Y/N shakes one hand free from Haymitch’s grasp, reaching for her.

Katniss, takes it, pressing her cheek against the back of her mentor’s hand. No. “I thought…”

Y/N bears down as another contraction ripples through her abdomen.

“That was good.” Cashmere nods, patting Y/N’s knee.

“What is that?” Y/N’s given birth twice before, this is different.

“Just keep doing what you’re doing.” Cashmere encourages as tiny feet appear, “everything is ok.” It’s not ideal, but if they keep the baby moving-

“Where’s Peeta?” Katniss turns to Haymitch.

His eyes are glossy, hesitant to reply, “he’s in the Capitol. They got him and Johanna. We couldn’t get to him in time. But we’re gonna talk to President Coin when we get to district thirteen and figure out the best way to get him back.”

You’re a liar. Katniss wants to scream it, to slap him, hard, for breaking his promise. But it will have to wait. You promised to save him over me.

Exhausted and frustrated, Y/N reaches a hand down to make sense of what’s happening. “Breech?”

“Yeah,” Cashmere breathes.

Finnick is just beyond the blonde’s shoulder, a pained expression on his face. Or perhaps nauseated, watching over Y/N without actively watching.

“Once we deliver the shoulders, it should be easy.” Katniss has seen this before, her mother delivered a handful of breech babies, as a healer. The women of district twelve would call on her when the babies got stuck.

Y/N pushes again, crying out as she does.

Haymitch rests his cheek against the crown of her head. “I’m sorry.” He apologizes to the sound of her sobs. “I’m so sorry.”

Y/N continues, the same way Haymitch has known her to face any difficulty, with fierce determination. The infant is placed on her chest, kicking and crying. Healthy; same as her brother and sister before her.

Part 16

Series Taglist: @praline357 @flowercrowns-goodvibes @justheretoparty420 @avocadotoastwithegg @treehouse-mouse @emo-markie @spilled-mi1k @magical-spit @greaser9902 @jessicamellarky @yourebuckingkiddingme @smuha2004 @sendhelplease @ninimackbrews @wittiestrain184 @r1dd1kulus @erenluvr69 @helpimhyperfixating @jackierose902109 @jellybear455 @dreammgc @dadbodfanatic-x @ftdtcmlovr @inky-sun @ms-brek-ker @undercover55655

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (VI)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and whatever prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

PART ONE is here PART TWO is here PART THREE is here PART FOUR is here and PART FIVE is here and this is part six💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts

Where we last left off... Danny and Bart are bros now. The Speedsters chat about the horribly injured entity their kid has decided is like a...pet? Theydk?

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my awful attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

Danny wakes up to an unbridled wave of nostopdon’t.

…He rouses. His lungs flutter.

Danny flinches. 

There’s something— it’s large and it’s green in a way that humans are not and it’s taller and wider than Danny’s human and the space it makes in Danny’s senses—

The red human Danny is too attached to now buzzes to his bedside, spilling worrywor/rynerv/ous all over Danny’s section of this abandoned hospital. His muscles tighten up to compensate; and when the green not-human adult gets closer, Danny pushes himself forward on his elbows— closer to his vibrating human, closer to a defensive formation. 

The green thing moves and Danny can’t see the gesture. He bristles. 

And then

Danny’s skull spl

                                its

                                                down the middle. 

Everything hurts and everything is on fire. 

Danny screams. 

                        And he screams. 

                                                        And he screams. 

And—

Danny isn’t moving— everything else moves when Danny screams but he isn’t moving— the fast human has gotten even faster and they’re zooming through the building, through rooms and past adult humans that Danny has never seen, and all Danny can do is sink his claws into the human and hope that it stays. That Danny stays. In its arms, and not next to— that. 

The fast-buzzing human finds a dark room. 

It shoves Danny and itself inside. Good. 

They hide. 

Even better. 

Someone comes to the door, and Danny can feel the frigid heat of a blast forming in his fingers. But it’s only two of the humans Danny has already met. And another young human.

This one has light hair, he thinks. It shines in the light spreading out from the cracked doorway. 

They talk and they don’t crowd his space but to be honest Danny would rather they did. There’s something horrible out there, and he knows these humans aren’t that bad and whatever green thing out there certainly is. They should all be safe in this nice dark room. 

He makes a grabby hand. Come here. Get closer. 

…One of them does. Great! Danny gently bats at it with his knuckles until it joins them underneath the table. Danny puts the buzzing human in front of him and his new human behind him, so that he’s in the middle. There’s layers now. They can’t all get wiped out at once. 

Danny makes grabby hands at the other. It makes a huffy sort of vibration. Probably a laugh. Stupid. Doesn’t it notice that they’re in danger?? 

Danny whips a very sharp comehererightnowbetween them— not lashing, but not gentle. They are in danger. Come here. 

Thankfully, the last two obey—Danny’s pretty sure he’s being humored, but that doesn’t matter. Not as long as they’re all under the table. And safe.

The buzzing human’s anxious vibrations slowly move out into a slower, calmer boredom, and that’s fine, because boredom means that it doesn’t think they’re in danger. No one has found them yet and the humans are twitchy and nervous.

One of the darker-dressed humans says something. Danny can’t tell what it says, exactly, but he can turn his head to listen. The words flow around him like water. Someone else murmurs something else.

A human hand bats at Danny’s. Danny flinches. It—is it fighting?? Are they fighting??

They don’t start…hitting. But they keep batting at Danny’s hands, very carefully avoiding his claws, and—oh. They want to play. And they probably want to play quietly, so they’re being smart about not getting caught. Ugh. If Danny had his toys, they wouldn’t be so bored. This is almost worse than boredom.

…Fine. Danny’s claws don’t exactly retract like an animal’s, but they’re not so essential to his being that they’re formed and present all the time. The sharp shapes of his claws shift in the darkness, until they’re only blunt nails: suitable for playing.

All the humans make very excited noises under their breath. It’s all very interesting or something. It can’t be that special. Danny sees other ghosts reshape little bits of themselves all the time.

The quiet human in red gently lifts up Danny’s hands with its own. It gently tosses Danny’s hands in the air, so that they clap together very quietly once they fall down onto its own. Danny lets it happen. They’re this close to him anyway. They’re probably not a threat.

(The real threat is outside, anyway.)

Then his hands get flipped over. The human gently bats its hands against Danny’s, extremely careful not to anger him enough to claw. They do this a couple times before Danny figures the game out.

Oh. It’s a hand game—Danny even knows this one. It’s Ms. Mary Mack. The quiet one whispers the right tune under its breath.

Once Danny knows it, it’s easy to gently follow the motions. He surprises them when he knows the motions as well as they do; his wrists hurt when he goes too fast, or when the human kids do—when they push too hard, Danny makes himself intangible, to their delight—but he can be gentle, and eventually everyone else is gentle, and they carefully plot out Mrs. Mary Mack and a veeeery slow version of Concentration.

It’s all very fun, right up until the Large Green Not-Human pushes itself through the floor.

Danny pulls his hands back, unsheathes his claws, and shrieks.

Everyone yells and everyone gets closer—it’s a defensive formation and that’s good but it’s not enough if he needs space to help defend them—and everything is loud and upsetting and Danny’s already hurt but he can fight and he will—

—Apology, Apology— something whispers, infinitely quieter than the attack Danny had suffered.

He bolts upright. What? Oh, oh no. It wants to talk to him. Danny does not want to talk back. NonononoGoAWAY.

The giant green thing backs off. Danny gets a distinct sensation of —Questions, Answers— sent to him. The feeling is accompanied by a procession of Danny’s own memories: the stars from the base, the container he’d woken up in, his bed nest and all the waste in it.

Danny winces further back under the table. Just because he likes his cot and feels safe in it doesn't mean it isn't gross. It is gross. But everything is going to be gross until all of his insides are actually inside of him again, and not squished up in his more liquid form.

The quickfasthuman darts in front of Danny, as if it is going to be any defense against whatever this creature is, and starts yelling in its little human voice. Danny keens.

—Care, Concern— flows towards him. With it comes Danny’s memories of the buzzing human bandaging him, a flesh-tone bandage stretching across the hole where more of his nose ought to be.

…Danny stills. It’s. That’s.

It’s a very gentle emotion. Maybe the thing is…lying…? But if it was, Danny would be able to feel it. Right?

There are more thoughts and feelings that come by, first very quietly and softly, and then a little too fast to track as the being get ahead of itself. When Danny pulls away, it slows down, and the flow becomes manageable again.

The Earth. Green and peaceful.

Space. —Home. Home—

This base that Danny is on. On it are faces that the green being can see, that Danny can’t— but in its memory it shares, all of them are welcoming and friendly with…their coworker. This being.

(Is this an alien?!)

(The being pauses in its recollection. It feels distinctly —Amused, Amused—. And then Danny gets space memories!! Of Mars!!!)

He carefully eases his claws out of the carpet. Okay. This is pretty cool. Danny’s getting the hang of this.

He (thinks? Successfully?) bounces back a memory of his first room, his first shuttle model of the Atlantis, the glow in the dark stars on his ceiling.

The alien (Alien!!!) treats him to a memory of his own offsprings’ resting places in his home. On Mars.

Danny doesn’t even argue when his buzzing human tries to pick him up. They can break formation. It’s fine. Danny purrs and purrs with his core. For the first time in months and months, someone can speak to him properly. Someone wants to speak to him.

What Danny thinks matters.

The stranger invites Danny into a mutual conversation, and Danny accepts.

Danny sinks himself into a memory of the earth, as seen from the upper atmosphere. The stars were all-encompassing there. He misses flying. 

The Martian sends him a memory of a crashed…

…Oh. Danny squeezes further under the table. That’s the Specter Speeder. From the stranger's eyes, his crash into the dirt looks so bad. That’s…that crash hurt him. He’s still hurt. Still so bad. 

Even the alien’s —Concern, Fear, Worry— isn’t a comfort. 

The Martian replays the memory of the bandaids again. And then a new memory: the laboratory where Danny woke up. 

The room was full of nervous humans in scrubs and lab coats, all of whom were nervous, nervous, fussing over problems like safe food and adequate oxygen and sanitary environment and please, please be okay. Danny’s empathy is limited to other empathetic beings, but the humans' thoughts and worried faces are bare and transparently clear to the alien. 

…Oh. 

Danny thinks of the young humans crowded around him, trying to keep him comfortable and safe, even when the alien knows that the humans know that he isn’t a threat. But that they worry for Danny anyway, because he’s scared and unhappy and in pain. 

Oh, Danny thinks. …Oh. 

[wishesunderthestars]

Eunoia // The First Christmas

Summary: An Eunoia Christmas special in which the pack spends their first Christmas together.

Word Count: 2.6k+

Masterlist

It’s the most wonderful time of the year…

Christmas music poured out of the large speakers in the living room. A cozy fire was burning in the grand fireplace and colorful socks, large and small, were hanging from the mantle. Firewood was stacked next to it in a box painted with stars and mistletoes. The soothing smell of firewood mingled with the sugary aroma of all the desserts that were laid on every available surface.

Four different kinds of cookies—sugar cookies with icing in the shapes of Christmas trees, snowmen and snowflakes,  chocolate chip cookies, chocolate crinkle cookies, and of course gingerbread cookies—, red velvet cake, cinnamon rolls, black forest yule log, cupcakes of various flavors, espresso martini brownies and a massive gingerbread house currently residing in the middle of the dining table. All of them homemade.

You had been cooking and baking since the previous day to have everything ready for Christmas dinner. You had jokingly suggested ordering everything to avoid the hustle and it had sent Seokjin into a frenzy, spluttering and scolding you while threateningly holding a large rolling pin. You hadn’t suggested it again.

Most of Christmas Eve had been spent in the kitchen and everyone in the family had offered a helping hand. You, Seokjin, and Yoongi were in the center of the action as the ones with the most experience in cooking. You worked together like a well-oiled machine, dividing the tasks and handing things to each other. You had put on music and danced around while the younger ones tried to steal bites of whatever you were making. It was so much fun, you hadn’t noticed the day passing until Jimin came to drag you to the living room to watch Home Alone.

You had been invited to more than five Christmas parties, including a charity ball hosted by your parents. Your mother had expressed her deep disappointment when you had rejected the invitation without an explanation. For the first time, you didn’t care at all. This Christmas you would do what you actually wanted to do with the people you loved.

For the special occasion, you had bought a form-fitting green velvet dress cinched at the right hip with three white crystals and ending above your knees. A section of your hair was pinned to the side with a diamond clip and you had kept your makeup simple but elegant with red lips and neutral eyeshadows.

“John texted that they are on the way,” Namjoon said, appearing at the door of your bedroom. He was wearing a black turtleneck with a blazer over it. Everyone was dressing a little more formally for the dinner.

“Give me a minute, I’m almost ready.” You looked at yourself in the mirror again. It wasn’t nearly as extravagant as what you used to wear at the balls hosted by your parents but you liked this so much more. The finishing touch was a simple diamond teardrop necklace.

Namjoon came to stand behind you and took the necklace from your hands. “Let me.” He brushed your hair to the side before settling the necklace against your collarbones and clipping it. He placed a kiss on the side of your neck, soft as the touch of a butterfly, before taking your hand and leading you outside. His touch still ignited a fire within you, strong and steady. “You look perfect. As usual.”

“Cheeky wolf,” you said, pushing his chest lightly.

The Christmas tree towered over everything in the living room. It was the biggest one you had found and the top of the star was touching the ceiling, even though the walls in the Castle were pretty tall. Normally, you would go for something smaller that was easy to decorate but that wasn’t a problem now. Hoseok had spotted this one at the Christmas Tree Farm and had called everyone over to see it, they all got so excited and you couldn’t deny them. So you had one of the largest Christmas trees you had ever seen in your living room.

A huge Christmas tree also meant more ornaments and more lights, which prompted a long trip to the mall and three carts full of Christmas decorations. Last Christmas, you had only decorated the main rooms with Helen’s help. After your breakup and considering your busy schedule, you hadn’t been in the mood to celebrate. After all, you went home only to sleep. This year, you weren’t alone anymore—you were starting to realize that you were never truly alone—and you promised yourself you would make this the best Christmas for your family.

You decorated every single room in the house, spending hours on ladders and dividing ornaments, and sticking lights on the walls. It was worth it to see their smiles. For most of them, it would be the first proper Christmas they experienced.

Jungkook was hopping up and down all the time the first few days, carrying his sketchbook everywhere to draw the tree and the lights and the animated Christmas villages, trains, and houses placed all over the Castle. For Taehyung, it was the first time he was seeing a Christmas tree up close and he couldn’t take his eyes away from it. The first night after decorating it, he didn’t want to go back to his room. You wouldn’t let him sleep on the couch alone so you carried the extra mattress you kept in the storage closet and you, Jimin, and Taehyung slept underneath the lights of the Christmas tree.

Gifts were overflowing now, spilling past the edges of the tree and taking up a lot of the floor space. Small and large ones, in colorful wrapping paper, red, green, silver, gold, and every color you could imagine. You had agreed to wait until after dinner when everyone was here to exchange gifts.

Hoseok and Yoongi were nestled together in a heavy red blanket on the couch, a Hallmark movie playing on the TV. Yoongi’s cheeks were dusted pink, probably from a venture outside.

They both turned at the sound of your heels on the floor.

Hoseok gazed at you in appreciation. “Green looks really good on you. You look incredible.”

“Thank you,” you said, doing a little curtsy. “I would say the same about you but I can’t see underneath that blanket. It isn’t even cold in here.” If anything, the Castle had great heating and the fireplace was also adding to the warmth.

He ran his hand over the blanket. “But I like it. It’s cozy.”

“You’ll wrinkle your shirt. Get out of the blanket and let me see your clothes. John will be here soon and Amelia won’t be far behind.”

“Come on,” Yoongi told him, pushing the blanket off. Hoseok giggled and waited for Yoongi to take his hands to pull him up. “I have to go to the kitchen to check on the food, anyways.”

Yoongi was wearing a blood-red silk shirt and black pants. His hair, the longest it had been since you met him, was framing his face in soft waves. Hoseok had unbuttoned his red velvet blazer leaving his sheer white shirt in view.

“You both look amazing,” you said, clapping your hands. The excitement of the day was making you a little giddy. “Let’s go to the kitchen then.”

“I’ll go to the kitchen, you’ll stay here and wait for our guests.” Yoongi stopped you, throwing an easy smile over his shoulder.

“Seriously?” you asked, crossing your arms.

He paused and turned around. “Deadly so,” he said. “We don’t want you ruining your dress.”

Hoseok laughed, loud and bold, the way you loved. The house got a little brighter, a little warmer.

“He’s talking as if his shirt alone doesn’t cost a thousand dollars,” you muttered.

“Does he know that?” Namjoon asked.

“I’m sure he does, we went to the boutique together and the total was out of this world.”

The shirt was from the new Valentino collection and soon after it had been launched, you had been invited to the boutique to take a look at the new pieces. You didn’t remember why and how Yoongi had tagged along but you did remember that you had spent five hours trying on clothes and commenting on each look. You had left the boutique with fifteen more pieces than you had estimated and your card thousands of dollars lighter.

You picked up the discarded blanket Yoongi and Hoseok had been wrapped up in and folded it, placing it over the arm of the couch. You surveyed the room once again to make sure that everything was in place. Because of your job, you had learned to instantly spot if anything was amiss during any given scene. It wasn’t like any of your guests would care about a mismatched candle or a wrinkled tablecloth but you were a perfectionist in every aspect of your life.

“It smells like a sweets factory in here,” you said. “I’m not sure it was a good idea to put everything out already. Alice will want to eat the cookies as soon as she sees them.”

Hoseok took a deep breath of the sweet aroma. Cinnamon and sugar, chocolate and vanilla. “I want to eat them. But I’m too afraid of Jin.”

“We did spend hours making this dinner. Believe me, you won’t regret waiting.”

Hoseok took your hand in his. “I’m sure I won’t. Everything already smells delicious.”

“It must be almost ready,” Namjoon said, just as Jimin walked out of the kitchen.

The cat hybrid was wearing an electric blue flowy velvet jacket, a low-cut black shirt, and black pants. A black choker hugged his neck, expensive lace in swirling patterns and from it, blue tourmaline stones fell like teardrops.

Jungkook followed him. Like Namjoon, he was dressed in all black, a black satin shirt, unbuttoned at the top, and black dress pants. Half of his hair was pulled up, showcasing the silver earrings in the shape of arrows adorning his ears while a silver necklace dipped down his chest.  

They bounced to you, their smiles widening. You stopped them before they could reach you, already knowing what they were going to do. “No one mess with my lipstick, I just applied it and red lipstick is very easy to smudge.”

Jimin pouted, his bottom lip sticking out. The lip tint he had applied painted his lips a dark rosy hue, the gloss making them shine. You had to hold yourself back from doing exactly what you had warned them against.

“But… We’ll be careful,” Jungkook said, eyes wide the way he knew could get the pack to do anything for him.

“Photos first, then dinner, then we’ll see.” Jungkook pouted too. The last thing you wanted was John asking if you had started eating without them, already knowing that that wasn’t the reason. To appease the younger ones, you pulled them both in a hug and they instantly melted against you, wrapping their arms around your waist. “Our guests are almost here, just wait an hour or so.”

You felt Jungkook nod before both of them started scenting you. You couldn’t appreciate it the way a hybrid would but it was enough for you to see how it settled them to have your scent of them and leave their scent on you. As long as it made them happy, you didn’t care about anything else.

Regardless of what Yoongi said, you made your way to the chef’s kitchen next. You hadn’t touched the other kitchen, which was decorated for the holidays with a Christmas tree, garlands on the countertops, and ornaments on each cupboard’s handle. It would be a shame to dirty it. For as much cooking you had done and all the dishes you had made in just two days, the kitchen should be a disaster—flour everywhere, various ingredients littered on the counters, bowls, pans, and pots piled in the sink. It was the opposite. Everything was in its proper place, the countertops shining.

Yoongi had the underrated but very much appreciated habit of putting everything back in place after he was done with it and cleaning as he went along. He had claimed he needed a clean space to work so you and Seokjin had also tried to do the same to help him along. As a result, the chef’s kitchen was now spotless.

Seokjin was decorating the last dish, a perfectly roasted lamb surrounded by baby potatoes on a huge golden platter. Taehyung was plastered to his back, looking over his shoulder at what he was doing. Seokjin was so used to having one of the youngest hybrids stuck to him that he didn’t even bat an eye. Yoongi was standing next to them, surveying the results of the long day of cooking looking pleased.

“It smells incredible, my mouth may have started watering,” you said.

“It came out really good,” Seokjin said, pouring the glaze carefully. “I hope they’ll like it. It could have used a few more spices and I forgot to-”

“Shhhh.” Taehyung’s deep voice stopped his rambling before it could begin. “It’s perfect.”

You place a hand on Seokjin’s arm “They’ll love it, believe me. It will be the best Christmas dinner they’ve ever had.”

Seokjin put the sauce down and looked at the finished dish. He had pushed the sleeves of his white shirt up and his black and gold blazer was thrown over the back of one of the chairs. “Everything is ready. Should we bring the dishes out?” He looked up at you then and you noticed how his eyes trailed on your body appreciatively. “Wow, someone looks good tonight.”

“We all look really good tonight,” you said. “We’ll take so many photos. So many photos.”

Yoongi groaned but you knew he didn’t mind. He pretended he didn’t like it but never told you no even if you were taking photos for an hour, trying to find the perfect shot. That one had been a very long afternoon.

Taehyung turned around, resting his cheek on Seokjin’s back. The edges of his smile blurred, his lips falling open. “Green- You look beautiful in green.”

You had worn green on a different night too. A beautiful long dress in a similar shade to the one you were wearing. You had wanted to burn it, to rip it apart with scissors after everything was done. Such a magnificent dress had turned hideous in your eyes because it represented the most awful parts of luxury, the most awful parts of humanity.

You hadn’t worn a green dress since then.

“Are you okay, baby?” you asked, caressing his cheek. You didn’t want to bring it up, you didn’t want to speak about that awful night. Not when this was supposed to be a joyous day.

Taehyung leaned into your touch, closing his eyes. “I’m happy. You really look beautiful in green.”

“Thank you,” you said. Both of you had come a long way.

The sound of the doorbell echoed through the house.

You smoothed down your dress. “Our guests are here. I’ll go greet then and I’ll come back to help.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Yoongi said, shooing you away. “Go greet them and make small talk or whatever people do at these things. We’ve got this handled.”

“Fine, fine,” you said in the end.

Namjoon had already opened the door when you walked into the living room. John was helping Alice take off her red coat while his wife put her own coat on the coat hanger on the wall by the door. Amelia did the same while talking to her. Jimin and Jungkook were hugging Astrid and Taylor, who was holding a transparent bag with what you guessed was an enormous box of desserts inside. As if you needed more.

“Merry Christmas!” you greeted them.

Alice struggled out of the last sleeve and ran to you, throwing herself around your waist and almost sending both of you toppling over.

“Merry Christmas!” she shouted.

“Merry Christmas,” everyone echoed. 

Please comment and reblog it motivates me to keep writing

[butchfairyzine]

“FEY: A Guide to Fairies of the Butch Variety” themes (Text version)🐸

This book will explore butch fairies, arranged into six differently themed sections. Below are descriptions of these themes, as well as a number of example concepts that might fall under them! You can choose one of the examples we’ve provided, or come up with something yourself - as long as you run it by the mods to approve!

We will be choosing five (5) artists and one (1) writer per theme - one (1) artist to illustrate the ‘title spread’, and four (4) to illustrate the ‘guides’ within. The writer will be asked to provide snippets, comments, short poems, and descriptions to intersperse with spot illustrations on the ‘guide’ pages.

🌱 Garden Fairies

Garden fairies thrive in the world’s backyards - they can be plant-themed, critter-themed, and insect-themed. Large or palm-size, they tend to their surroundings with care and good spirit, and are often brightly colored, eye-catching things. This is your ‘Seelie’ group, for a real-world folklore equivalent.

Example concepts:

A fairy taming a grasshopper steed

A petal-winged rose fairy sleeping in a flower bud

A butterfly fairy collecting nectar

🏡 House Fairies

House fairies reside in and around the home. They are usually small, hiding from humans in nooks and crannies and forgotten places - and will get stuck between the couch cushions. They come out when the coast is clear to make mischief: rearranging trinkets, pilfering snacks, turning up the corners of carpets - all heinous behavior!

Their own dwellings are not to be trifled with, however. They’re of the utmost coziness, warm and safe and full of . . . ‘collected’ goods . . .

Example concepts:

A fairy facing off against a housecat

A fairy in their little home surrounded by myriad stolen trinkets

Fairies scheming to throw something nasty in a human’s stew

🕸️ Dark Fairies

Dark fairies dwell in the domains of shadow - in fairytales with unhappy endings, in childrens’ nightmares, under the surface both figuratively and literally speaking. They rejoice in sowing discord and causing mayhem, and shun the light. These are your ‘Unseelie’ equivalents.

Example concepts:

A murderous moth fairy poised to strike

A hag-like fairy offering a bargain one can’t refuse

A gaggle of tooth fairies

👑 Courtly Fairies

Courtly fairies are those who spend most of their time between lavish palace walls, voluntarily or otherwise. Towering spires, silkspun sheets, all wreathed in swirling gold filigree - a fairy court makes itself known for miles around. Most other fairies consider them the least carefree, though every once in a while a monarch does crop up who rules the land with wild abandon, whipping all fairykind into a frenzy for a decade or fifty. 

As an aside: dark fairies enjoy courtly fairies as particular targets for their curses, twisting their beauty and opulence into ironic reflections.

Example concepts:

A cursed fairy monarch chained to their throne

A rogue fairy prince on the run

A fairy knight in beetle armor

🌆 City Fairies

City fairies have bid the splendors of the fey adieu for the neon-splashed fast lanes of a human metropolis. Usually, they try to (more or less) blend in, bask in humans’ energy, break their hearts and leave them wondering how you do that thing you do. Little city fairies exist, too, trying their best not to get crushed underfoot as they go about their busy lives!

Example concepts:

A raver fairy stealing the show in a color-soaked warehouse

A mundane-looking fairy creating otherworldly pastries with the help of some friends

A fairy guardian of some public property

🔥 Wyld Fairies

Wyld fairies are closest in essence to magic itself, to nature and those primordial forces they let flow through them: the elements. They eschew court-made laws, borders, customs, and causes, simply forging their own paths through life with little consideration of worldly issues. They are bright like fire, deep as water, free as the wind.

Example concepts:

A fairy fire dancer

A seahorse (or, ‘kelpie’) herding underwater-fairy

A fairy exploring the edge of the upper atmosphere

[gallusrostromegalus]

in that map you drew of the seireitei districts; is there any link between the geography of the real world and the spirit world(or worlds)?

In regards to this map, Which is specific to AEIWAM:

This is the map that's hanging up in classrooms at Shinigami Academy when Ichigo breaks into Soul Society to save Rukia, in which the Seireitei is in the middle and the districts are color-coded with #s 1-79 of each marked as "Full" districts where the Soul Society Governs and collects taxes and the Large, undefined 80th districts where the Soul Society does not govern or collects taxes but they needed to call those regions SOMETHING.

The Map changes SIGNIFICANTLY in the following 5 years as Soul Society finally starts acting like a real nation with Borders instead of acting like it's still the Tokugawa Era.

As far as this correlates to Geography in the Living World however...

Watsonian Answer:

...Only sort of.

See, the Life Machine that generates reality only one of MANY Life Machines, who are all connected but disparate, like polyps that make up a coral. If that coral were some kind of Poly-dimensional Godhead. So the Living World is the four-dimensional expression of the surface of the calcium superstructure between the individual Polyps (which is also a skeleton they all share), and the Spirit World and Hell are the interior of the individual polyps. Maintaining the balance of souls between the living and spirit worlds is really the life machine maintaining it's homeostasis with the colony.

So while a soul can wander all over the living world, once it dies, it gets sucked into the Polyp it's closest to. But not "Closest" in a prototypically geographical sense, but "Closest" in the complex geographical way a multidimensional entity defines itself. Now, these fucking 12-and-14 dimensional barriers between God-Polyps *BROADLY* correlate to our four-dimensional reality, but not totally, so the afterlife of Soul Society is Sort-of geographically connected to "About 12% of central Japan (centered on one city), part of the Black Forest in Germany and an exceptionally deserted section of the Chihuahuan Desert".

Since souls can wander extensively (Not just geographically- emotionally, spiritually, inwardly, outwardly, memetically, culturally, ethically, methodologically, climatically, and just Generally Weirdly) in the living world though, people do not necessarily go to the afterlife of the life machine they were spawned in, let alone the one they expected to go to. In fact, the barriers beteween the dominions of different life machines are so inscrutable to humans that a pair of identical twins can be born, raised in the same house, take over that house from their parents, and spend every waking moment of their lives together and end up in completely different afterlives mostly, but not entirely because one of them had an allergy to celery and the other didn't.

So, *Most* of the people who die in Karkura town go to Soul Society for their afterlife, but not all of them. The Shinigami never notice the people who don't- their souls are immune to hollowfication because they're governed by a different God machine, and they just vanish off into their different afterlife the way ghosts normally go to soul society, and with roughly half of all souls totally forgetting thier previous lives and most missing at least some, or eager to change identities, it's pretty much impossible to track souls from one world to the next unless something WEIRD happens (spoiler: weird things happen).

Hence, Soul Society's total population is approximately five million human souls, and collectively about as many Non-human souls between the Hollows, Beastfolk, and other miscellaneous spirts, which is about the population of souls in both categories in the slices of geography it governs in the living world.

In terms of scale, the circle that makes up the Soul Society (Seireitei + Rukongai) is about 700 miles in Diameter- the Soul Society's borders end where they can no longer reliably get an army of normal humans that has to travel from the Seireitei without portals in under a month (about 11 miles per day, rounded up a bit because they'll haul ass in an emergency), because collecting taxes from farther than that is a PAIN IN THE ASS.

Doylist answer:

The Soul Society is a map of Alaska turned sideways and with a few rivers added in, and it's population is the same as Colorado's because that's easy for me to imagine.

[its-in-the-woods]

Down the Rabbit Hole Chapter 14

Chapter one here, two here, three here, four here , five here, six here, seven here, eight here,nine here, ten here, eleven here , twelve here , thirthen here

master list

Pairing: Walton Goggins x You

Rating/Warning:  As always minor get out. Like why are you even here leave. Alcohol use, angst/fluff, hurt/comfort, domestic cuteness,

Synopsis: Updated synopsis, Saturday evening doesn't go quite as planned but sometimes that's exactly what is needed.

Note: These are going to be spaced out going further as I have a fallout AU I want to start releasing. But these will still be coming out every 2-3 days <3  Thank you for all the love and support it's greatly appreciated!Keep reading

*To the readers who are new hello! Welcome. It's been so fun seeing y'all pop up in my notifications! Don't be shy leave a comment <3. To those who have been with me since the beginning thank you so much for still being here!*

***

The two of you lay there for a while curled around each other. You enjoy that comfortable silence just listening to the other one breathe, heartbeats pounding in sync. Fingers roving over each other with no other purpose than to feel. The sun starts to go down through the trees as the time ticks by. Something about just getting to spend time together, nothing else in the way.

“Do you want to have a shower?” Walton mumbled hands still tracing patterns against your side.

You hum for a minute, “Probably not a bad idea, What do you want to do for dinner?” 

Walton leans and gives you a slow kiss, tongue running along your teeth, before laying back, “I got some fish that would be nice. Can do up the bbq, outside, enjoy the evening air.”

“That sounds wonderful,” You grin, before sliding off of him. You wince slightly as your butt hits the sheets.

“It still stings?” Walton asks sliding over and off the bed, he wanders into the bathroom coming out with a bottle of advil. 

You shake your head, “It’s okay, I should probably take it with food.”

Walton’s eyebrows go up wrinkling his forehead, “Grab something from the trays and take one.”

“Okay, I will take one as long as I am allowed some cheese,” You grin, grabbing the bottle from his hands. 

“You can have whatever you like,” He gives you a kiss, hands rubbing at your butt. 

You rub your nose against him, “Going to have one with me?”

“Already got the water running,” He smiles, and you follow him into the bathroom. 

The shower is quick, Walton making sure to put more cream on your wrist and ass. Also, you snack on something and take advil. Then he was grabbing a pair of worn sweatpants and an oversized shirt, telling you to put them on because it’s cool outside. You don’t mind slipping into the soft clothes, Walton doing the same. It makes you feel like you’re being hugged by him. He grabs a brush, comb, and elastics out of your toiletry bag. You raise an eyebrow but he doesn’t say anything just walking out of the bedroom. 

You follow him out into the living room, he swings the windows open letting in the cooler evening air. Placing the hair tools on the dining table before he wanders into the kitchen. You help him dig out several items, laying them out on the counter. He also grabs a couple of bottles of booze, a mixer, and glasses. 

“Come over here,” Walton asks, pulling a chair out from the kitchen table, you sit down still unsure of what he is up to. 

He brushes through your hair, in long fluid strokes of someone who had done this before. Being gentle on any tangles you might have, fingers carefully working the knots out. You are surprised at how adept he is at it. Large hands use the comb to part the hair into sections before braiding it easily. He then ties it off and lets it rest against your back, hand running back over the strands. 

“How do you know how to do that?” You ask, fingers going over the twisted strands. It’s tight enough to keep its shape, but loose enough that it won’t pull against your scalp. 

Walton smiles as he walks over starting to pour various liquids into the shaker. “Grew up around a lot of amazing women. Taught me a thing or two. Also, Trevor mentioned how much you liked having your hair that way.”

“Of course, Trevor would be giving away all my secrets,” You tease happily, taking the drink he handed to you. It tastes amazing, and you can’t help but take another sip. 

“Ahh yes 'cause you have so many skeletons hanging in your closet,” Walton winked sipping on his drink. 

The two of you move outside, sitting on a patio set as Walton fusses over the BBQ. You lean back in your chair enjoying the cooler evening. Taking another sip of the drink, it had grapefruit, mint, and gin. A lovely combo that had the start of a buzz thrumming at your temples. Walton sat beside you, drink in hand as he melted into the chair. 

“Mmm, it's a lovely evening,” He hummed, fingers tapping on the chair. “I was wanting to talk to you about a few things. To do with work.”.

You nod your head as you stretch out your toes, getting comfortable in the wooden seat. The night air was different here, you could smell hints of the city. There was the noise of the car in the distance, a slight buzz of ambient noise, just enough of a humm to let you know the city lay a few streets away.  

“For some odd reason, I've become quite attached to you.” He smiled as you rolled your eyes at his teases. “So I was hoping you'd come with me to my next gig. Douglas my agent, has someone who works for him. Charlotte, she's a sweetheart. She is happy to take you on as a client if you like of course. But she will help you with paperwork, visas, banking, and so on.” 

“Oh wow,” You swallow, It was a lot to take in. You hadn't thought about much, passed this week. Still in the trenches of the show, you were currently on. “Yeah, that would be fantastic. I have very little knowledge about this end of things. Are you sure they are okay with helping me?”

Walton took your free hand in his, “I promise if they weren't legitimate I won't offer. It can be stressful to figure out all the legalese of things. The agency I am with is very knowledgeable about how that all works. They'll be able to make sure you can go where you need to when you need to without worry.”

You nod, the reality of it sinking into your chest. This was actually happening, you were going to be moving to LA, and traveling with Walton. It was wild, a few months ago you were wondering if you could even afford to live in a one-bedroom. Now this. 

Walton is up and moving around by the BBQ leaving your hand empty and your stomach knotting. You instinctively curled into a ball. Knees tucked against your chest, could feel yourself trembling a little, but it wasn’t from the cold. Your heart starts hammering in your chest. Panic had gripped your lungs in a vice and you were close to hyperventilating. You got up and were moving back inside hurriedly, you didn’t know where you were heading but you needed to move. Your bare feet hit the tile and you feel dizzy. Walton’s voice behind you, you head into the bedroom pacing back and forth trying to get your heart to stop trying to rattle its way out of your chest. 

A voice in the back of your head screaming that you needed to run. That nothing good ever came easy, that all of this could disappear as fast as it appeared. The doubt and worries, the night spent on the shower floor flood over you with a sob. 

Warm arms are wrapping themselves around you, your first instinct is to try and push him away. No. Nothing was easy. Life was cruel and you were bound to end up hurt again. The words rattling around your brain. Walton wasn’t going to let go though, he was much stronger than you letting you push without giving up space. Tears flowed out of you in a rush of emotions as you collapsed against him. 

He rubs at the back of your head soothing you, the feeling of guilt flooding over you. He had been nothing but kind, had flown you down to LA, and here you were a blubbering mess in his arms. You try to slow your breathing, lungs hitching and spasming as you finally calm yourself down. Relaxing you hug him back, letting the warmth and smell of him bring the moment back into focus. You pull back and he finally eases up a little, looking down at you worry lining his face. 

You look down at his shirt, feeling foolish for letting things get so bad. Your mind could be its own worst enemy, especially when you start to feel vulnerable. Anyone poking at those walls, disrupting your routine, but this wasn't that. This was new and you hadn’t let yourself feel these feelings in a long time. Your fingers work over the soft material of his shirt trying to dig words out of your mind that feel like scrambled eggs. 

“I-I- Umm,” You stutter clenching your fist, “I am sorry, I got overwhelmed.” It’s a lame thing to say, but your brain is so frazzled you can’t come up with much else. 

“Hush,” He whispers, kissing your forehead softly, “You got nothing to be sorry about. Been an intense day and I had to bring up work.”

You shake your head still feeling flustered but trying to listen to what he is saying. Even though your head is spinning in circles. Why couldn’t you just accept that things could be okay? 

“Hey,” He touches your cheek, having you look up at him, “It’s okay. We don’t have to worry about work or any of that until Monday.”

“No,” You shake your head, “It’s important, I just,” You take a few breaths, Walton giving you a little space to try and find your words. “My life isn’t easy, this,” You gestured around the space, “Is a lot to take in. A few months ago I was wondering how to make rent. And my brain just keeps running in circles about how easily this could all disappear”

Walton nodded guiding you over to sit on the bed, “Life has been hard, and I don’t know. This relationship between us is so easy.” He holds your hand, rubbing it between his own.

“I keep waiting for the other shoe to fall,” You say quietly, “I keep waiting for this to somehow end.”

He pulls you close to him, “You know we can’t know what’s to come. I know you know that. If I could promise you that it would never change. That it would only get better. But I don’t make a habit out of lying to people I care for. Sometimes our brain can be our own worst enemy.”

You nodded, wiping tears from your cheeks with your free hand. “It really can be. Thank you for understanding.”

He hums kissing where your tears fell, “And you aren’t alone in this. Even if things go south, I am not gonna leave you high and dry in a new city. That’s why you’re getting your own agent with all your own info, accounts all of it. Everything will be set up so that if things don’t work out between us you have a fallback.”

Worrying at your lip, he had a fallback plan, but not for him. For you. The man had only ever been kind, thoughtful, sometimes stupid, but he didn’t want to hurt you. He just wanted to be with you, whatever that meant. 

“Your brain is running again,” He whispered, “Let me in, please,”

You turn to him, kissing him softly, the two of you just sat there for a moment. The buzz that had infiltrated your mind was finally gone. 

“It’s never not running,” You say quietly, “Except when I am with you, when I am with you it’s quiet. Like the noise just goes away, and it scares me.”

“You don’t have to be scared. Not the only one whose mind is quiet when we are together. It is okay to enjoy the silence. Even if it’s just for a day or an hour. He stands offering you a hand, you take it and walk with him. “Me and you, whatever comes. We will get through it.”

Your lungs finally fill with air again, as you grab his hand and wrap your fingers with his. Heart slowing down and body easing as you follow him back out. 

“Ever consider writing poetry?” You tease at him as you grab a sip of your drink.

“Only across your backside,” He teases back, hand rubbing over your sore butt. “Pretty writing all over that,”

You flush, “still a little sensitive,” You pout a little but wiggle against his hand. 

“Hopefully the food is still semi-alive.” He says, giving you a quick kiss before going over to the BBQ.

You are more than a little bit tipsy, somewhere along the way Walton had turned the music on. The night had gotten cooler as the sun had disappeared and the two of you had curled up together on the sofa with the windows open. Blanket thrown haphazardly over top of tangle legs, as you sip on something that tastes like blackberries and honey. 

“Whatever you put in these,” You giggle as you run your hand over his legs. Something about the two of you just snuggled in each other's lap was so intimate. “Is addictive.”

Walton chuckles sliding further down the sofa cushions, eyes half closed, “Mmm, if there is one thing I know how to do, it’s make good cocktails.”

You rub at his feet, he groans watching you as you work them over. You carefully put the glass down on the coffee table so you can work at his arches.“You know how to do a few other things,” You grin, pushing your thumb in the right spot and watching him slide right onto the seats. 

He groans again, “What sort of things, sugar.” You can’t see his face but can tell he is smiling. 

“Mmm not sure I can say it out here, might scare the neighbors.” You tickle his toes making him try to grab them back. But you hold on until he’s sitting up swaying back and forth as much as you are. 

“Hey,” He glares at you, which is hilarious as his eyes can’t focus and his hair is disheveled. He squeaks as you hold his feet tickling again until he is rolling off the couch, you somehow are wrapped up in his legs and also end up on the floor.

There is a scuffle of blankets and legs as you both try and find a way out. You run smack into his chest, knocking him off balance and you fall on top of him in a fit of giggles. Throwing the blanket off the man who somehow still has his drink in his hand. You grab the drink and take a sip as you sit on his lap. He groans, taking the drink back from you and taking a sip. 

“How’d we end up here,” He grins, words slurring together as his free hand runs up your thigh.

“I am not sure,” You also slur, a little, “I think we got to go to bed.”

Walton chuckles somehow getting the glass onto the table beside yours. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news but uhh that ain’t happening again tonight.”

You let out a snort, wobbling yourself up, almost falling back onto the couch, “Mmm, no. Sleep. Actual sleep, you horny old man.”

Walton waves his hand in circles before you come over to pull him up. He is also wobbling, as you both try to make it down the hallway on unsteady feet. Giggling back and forth as you bump into each other, along with walls and doors. Once in the bedroom, you plunk him onto the bed, he groans and lays there as if he is unconscious. 

Running around you grab glasses of water and the bottle of advil putting them onto the side table. Head spinning a little as you try and keep yourself upright. Now you then need to deal with the half-asleep man who has somehow mostly slid off the bed. Poking him, you manage to get him mostly in bed. Getting him undressed was another matter.

“Walton,” You groan trying to get something off this man, he is not being overly cooperative.  “You got to help me out here.”

He grumbles trying to sit up, you get his shirt off and he flops back down. You throw your hands up and almost knock yourself over. Managing to get yourself undressed, you come around and flop the covers over.  Walt sat up slightly and crawled over to the spot like a drunken tiger, flopping into the open spot. Laughing, you go around and climb in on the other side. He immediately comes over and wraps himself around you. You move yourself as much as possible, getting comfortable and tucking the two of you in. 

“Mmm, you,” He grumbles against your shoulder, “Smell nice.” Walton’s words slurring so much that you can almost not understand what he says. 

Running your hand over his arm, squeezing at it a little, “Go to sleep, already.”

The sun is shining and you are warm. Walton is on top of you, groaning as you try to untangle yourself. A headache pushing at your eyeballs, you fumble managing to grab Advil and water downing both. Your teeth were fuzzy, dizziness floating around as you tried to figure out what way was up. Turning around you nudge Walton, he blinks a few times one eyeball fully open, hair in disarray. 

“Dear god, how do you still look good,” He grins, and you hand him some water and pills. Which he downs without a fuss, before scooting back to make room for you. Your face was flush as you slid in beside him

“You flatter me,” You grin against his side as you snuggle in, not bothering to cover yourself as you are both warm. “So what’s the plan for the day?”

Walton snorts, “Damn girl, I just got my eyeballs open.”

You pat his chest, “Can’t help myself, you’re just too handsome. Got me all wound up.” 

“Oh really now?” He says tickling your side, you squeal and try to squirm away. “What if I say you’d have to wait until those bruises heal?”

You pout, and huff at that, “I suppose I’d have to listen to you.” Sliding up you kiss him softly, he watches you, eyebrows raised. 

“Something tells me you aren’t very good at listening,” He says leaning in and giving you a quick kiss. Before sliding out, you huff but lean over to grab some water. 

You get up and stretch wondering what was going to happen. It was hard not to dwell on the previous night, you mulled it over a little more than you should be. Letting out a sigh you grab your toothbrush and brush your teeth. No. Today was a new day, no more overthinking, as if just the thought would magically make your brain stop. Grumbling at your internal monologue, remembering what Walton had said earlier. One day, one hour, that’s all you need. Letting out a breath you close your eyes, trying to let that aching feeling in your stomach leave. 

“You okay,” He stood in the doorway, still missing his shirt as he watched you. 

“One day at a time, right?” You reply, moving over to him, Walt wraps himself around you. “I plan on enjoying today.”

Walton hums squeezing you a little, how was he so warm all the time. You let yourself sag a little against him, if you could stay there for the day you would. He rubs your back and kisses your collarbone. 

“That’s all I can ask for.” He says, leaning back slightly to look at you. Why did he look at you like, making you feel like he could see right inside. “Today, just me and you.”

fifteen

*This got a little bit more angsty than intended but I am not mad about it

*I am still working on developing this relationship and their dynamic. It's interesting to dive into.

*as always likes, comments, reblogs are appreciated and keep the demons fed

[atiny-moon]

Let’s Party

18+ FANFIC. MINORS DNI

Genre: excuse me, you have some plot in your smut

Tags: wooyoung x fem!reader, dry humping, choking, public sex? (but not really), lmk if I missed anything

Word count: 3.5k

This is my first fic, positive feedback is greatly appreciated ^-^

18+ FANFIC. MINORS DNI

It was a friend of a friend’s party and while you were more comfortable sitting at home, binging K-Dramas, it was fun to get dressed up and get out of the house. It was fun to have the girls over and go through your closet, them complaining about the absolute LACK of clothes and making a fuss over your ability to pull off absolutely anything. Your group of friends had been together for as long as you could remember and it was always a good time when the five of you were together. Three of the girls were rifling through your closet while the fourth was in the kitchen preparing drinks for everyone. A bit of a pre-game, if you will.

Everyone agreed that this was the best outfit they could come up with given the choices they had - you found yourself in a skimpy little black mini skirt and a matching black silk cami. One of your girlfriends lent you a pair of strappy heels, the kind that tie all the way up your calf while another girlfriend did your makeup and hair. All in all, the five of you looked dressed to kill.

The girl group arrived at the party while it was already in full swing with nothing but smiles and alcohol racing through your veins. The party was in a huge, luxury mansion - the likes of which you had never seen. People were pouring in through the front door, the side entrance and there were even some people spilling into the backyard. In honesty, you hadn’t seen a party like this since college.

The five of you walked into the house party with linked arms. One of your friends led the group through the house, introducing you to this person and that person while the rest of you put on your best faces and tried your hardest not to seem out of place. Because, the more you looked around, the more you realized that these party goers were wearing very expensive outfits. Was that a Fendi bag just hanging out in the middle of the coffee table? Wait.. were those a pair of Louboutins walking by?! You swallowed a big gulp of air and tried to keep your head together, though the effects of the pre-game drinks were already affecting your system.

Eventually, the five of you end up in one of the many living spaces. Each of you took a seat on the luxurious black sectional.

“Holy shit, Chels.. Where the hell are we?!”

“I know right, isn’t this place crazy?” replied Chelsea, the friend of a friend that managed to get you five invited into this party. “Brandon is a real estate agent and this is one of his houses!” Chelsea continued, as if that simple sentence provided enough explanation.

The four of you looked at each other then back at Chelsea. But before you could ask any follow up questions, a dashing black man with a shiny bald head walked into the living room with arms wide open.

“Chelsea!” He bellowed, his English accent hanging thick on your friend’s name. Chelsea immediately stood and leapt into his arms, wrapping her thin tanned arms around his neck.

“Brandon! I’m so happy to see you!” Brandon smiled and returned the hug with one hand, his other held a martini glass that was already half-empty.

“These are my friends,” Chelsea continued, partially removing herself from Brandon to do a general sweep to the four of you on the couch.

“They are indeed gorgeous, love!” All five girls giggle at the sudden compliments causing Brandon to widen his already beautiful smile. “Now..” Brandon’s attention fully on Chelsea, his large hand ever present on the small of her back, “You’ve showed them around, yes?” Chelsea nodded, to which Brandon pulled her in close and leaned down to whisper something into her ear. The four of you couldn’t hear what was being said but Chelsea was quick to giggle and slap Brandon’s arm flirtatiously. And without another word, the two were off.

The four of you watched as Chelsea and Brandon disappeared to an unexplored part of the mansion while the rest of you just sat there in silent confusion.

“Wait.. what the fuck?” Nayda was the first to remark. “Did she.. Did she just leave us?!” Nayda’s voice raised an octave as the rest of you were just left with your mouths slightly open.

“I guess so..” Retorted Michelle.

“Okay.. well.. What do we do now?” Asked Rebecca. You were about to suggest getting another round of drinks when a parade of eight incredibly attractive men walked into the living room. The four of you couldn’t help but watch as each one passed by. It was something out of a fever dream. And maybe it was the alcohol in your system but you could not suppress a catcall whistle as the eight of them walked by. Most of them bowed their heads in embarrassment while another one with long black bangs obscuring his vision met your eyes and raised his eyebrows. His mouth formed a little surprised ‘o’ while he pointed at himself. You responded by nodding your head and winking. The boldness of your actions affected him and you could see his cheeks taking on a rosy hue.

Your girlfriends waited until the men exited the living room and into another part of the house before they all turned to you and started ganging up on you.

“Girl! What is your problem?! This isn’t a construction site!” Exclaimed Nayda

“You don’t even know those men!” said Michelle in a barely audible angry whisper.

“Thank god you said something because I was about to!” Cackled Rebecca.

You couldn’t help but double over in laughter before trying your best to calm them down, “I just thought they were hot!”

“Yeah, but now they’re not gonna wanna talk to us! They probably think we can’t even keep it in our pants!” whined Michelle.

You scoff and wave off your friend’s concern. “Who cares?” you continue, “Let’s go get some more drinks.”

You’re the first to peel yourself off the couch and adjust your daringly short mini skirt before the rest of your girlfriends join you. You’re still adjusting your skirt when you feel the heaviness of someone’s eyes on you and when you look, the man with the bangs was staring at you. He was outside in the expansive garden, staring at you through the large window panes, the little shocked expression still on his face. Feeling brazen, you bite your lip and make a show of adjusting your attire, even pulling up your mini skirt just a hair more. From here, you could swear you saw him lick his lips.

Satisfied with the attention, you turn back to your girlfriends and begin leading them through the house. The four of you easily fall into the comfort of chit chat while slowly making your way through the house. Eventually you find the.. Bar? Most house parties you were familiar with had the drinks located in the kitchen. But apparently this mansion came equipped with its own bar and several bartenders.

The four of you line up and offer the bartenders your sweetest smiles; immediately, four pretty looking drinks are lined up on the bar waiting for your consumption. Before you could make your exit, there was a sudden voice to your left, “I’ll have what she’s having.”

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was a jolt of reality, but you were slow to acknowledge the individual to your left. You started with the hand on the bar, it was so incredibly thick.. But you continue to trail your vision up his arm and to his face. There must have been less than a foot of space between you two and with this proximity you could examine every inch of his profile.. The way his black bangs obscured his vision but left his chiseled jaw on display. The veins in his neck throbbing with every word he spoke. You hurriedly took a sip of your drink before gathering yourself.

“Sorry, doll.. I don’t think you could handle this.” You whisper, glossy lips still resting on the rim of your glass. He was a lot taller than you were expecting, considering you were wearing four inch heels and still only eye-level with his jaw.. His perfect jaw. Your eyes were on his neck as he turned to face you, his own eyes heavily obscured by both bang and lid. It was a struggle to lift your eyes and meet his gaze but when you did, you held it as if your entire life depended on it.

“I can handle a lot of things..” he replied. His hand on the bar moved to your forearm and without waiting for confirmation, his thumb started to rub small circles on your skin. The touch sent a shiver through your body.

You cocked your head to the side while lowering your glass. Daringly, you returned the touch by simply booping his nose, “Mm. Aren’t you a big boy?” Coy smile spreading to the corners of your glossed lips.

He actually scoffed at your response, giving you just enough time to slither out of his hold. You walked away to find your girlfriends with an extra sway to your hips. You thought about looking over your shoulder but decided against it. This game was fun and you did not want him to know you were enjoying it.

You found your girlfriends in yet another living room, this one with a fireplace and an even more luxurious sofa. You sat on the arm of the sofa while Nayda and Rebecca sat in the center and Michelle on the other arm. The three of them looked up with expectant eyes but before you could relish them with the details, four of the eight insanely attractive men from earlier joined you in this new living room.

All of them were immaculately dressed: there was one with bright blue hair and an insane sense of style with a sinister smile to match, there was another whose face was so angular and his build so broad you thought he was a fighter, the third man had faded bleached hair and eyes so piercing it was difficult to make eye contact with him, and the fourth man was tall and a mixture of elegance, beauty, and a fierce edginess. They were all so breathtaking.

Nayda was the one to speak up this time, the alcohol emboldening her every move. But, to her defense, Nayda was always really good at making people feel welcome - it must have been her winning smile and sweet words. Soon, the conversation began flowing with all eight of you laughing and conversing as if you were the oldest of friends.

Somewhere between starting your drink and finishing it, you felt the warmth of a hand on your lower back. It was a gentle but firm touch, the kind of touch a favorite lover would use. You enjoyed it and thus were a little slow to identify the hand’s owner. When you finally did look up, eyes half-lidded from alcohol and merriment you were surprised to find the same man from before - the one with black bangs.

“Wooyoung!” The man with blue hair exclaimed. “There you are! We were wondering where you went.”

It took a moment for Wooyoung to break his eye contact with you before looking over to his friends. “Sorry, Brandon was showing me the theater.”

“Theater?!” All eight of you reacted at once. This caused Wooyoung to laugh and boy, what a sight it was. The cold expression of his softened and the laugh lines around his mouth deepened. He was still standing right behind you with his hand on your lower back but you were enamored by his face the moment it lit up with laughter.

“Yeahhh, come on. I’ll show you, he’s playing FIFA on the big screen.”

This caused all of his friends to bolt up and exclaim with enthusiasm. Meanwhile, your girlfriends were too busy watching them enjoy themselves to really respond. So you turned to them, “C’mon, let’s go watch the boys play FIFA.”

Wooyoung led the group of eight towards a floating staircase, "It's right upstairs, last room on the left.” He stood to the side and let his friends go first while your friends followed behind, leaving you and Wooyoung at the foot of the stairs. With drink in hand, you placed a hand on the balustrade and began your careful climb up the stairs.

You only managed to go up two steps before you felt a hand on your wrist and in a blink of an eye, your wrist was pinned up above your head, Wooyoung only a few centimeters away from your face. The sudden movement made your breath catch in your throat, and your eyes go wide. It was a surprise, but a welcome surprise. The momentary bewilderment on your face made Wooyoung smile something so smug and coy, it made you want to slap it off his face. So, you did the next best thing.

You took a deep breath and lowered your head ever so slightly so you were peering at him through your lashes. With one hand above your head and another holding your drink, your only option was to slowly slip your leg between his, pressing the top of your thigh to his crotch. His hold on your wrist loosened as he took another gulp of air.

“What are you waiting for, big boy?” The flush was quick to creep on his cheeks and tinge his ears a bright pink. With his grip on your wrist loose, it was easy for you to wriggle it free and drape it behind his neck, fingernails dragging ever so lightly along the sensitive skin of neck.

This caused him to full-on giggle and retreat, his hands rubbing at the place you were just touching, leaving you leaning on the wall with a small smile of bewilderment creeping up your cheeks. “You started it, why so shyyy?” You teased. Wooyoung simply shook his head.

He returned a hand to the small of your back to encourage you up the stairs. Though, as you were going up, you could feel your mini skirt going up ever so slightly and Wooyoung’s hand dipping further down the small of your back until his thick hand was resting on the top of your ass. You took another sip of your drink.

The two of you found the theater and found your friends engaged in a healthy FIFA competition; the blue-haired boy was concentrating on the screen trying his best to beat… Michelle? The sight made both you and Wooyoung laugh wholeheartedly and immediately forget about the interaction on the staircase. The two of you joined your respective friend groups and began cheering them on. But even though there was a room full of people, the only person you could keep your eyes on was Wooyoung.

The theater had three rows with six seats in each row. Your friend groups were hanging out in the front row, all very excitedly cheering on their respective FIFA champion. At one point you caught Wooyoung’s gaze and nodded toward the third row of seats. Again, he was so flustered that someone was flirting so openly and aggressively with him that his face turned another shade of bright pink.

You set your drink down somewhere and made your way up the third row, finding a seat in the middle. Wooyoung quickly followed and sat in the chair next to you. At this point, you were starting to feel a little guilty about the way you were treating him so when he sat down you placed your hand on his thigh and whispered the quickest, “I’m sorry.”

Instead of flustered, Wooyoung was simply confused, “Huh?” He managed to mumble.

“I’m not usually like this..” You squeak out, unable to meet his gaze. For the first time that evening, it was your turn to blush.

Then, you felt the warmth of his hand on the back of yours, causing you to look him in the eyes. And you continued to watch his face as his hand brought yours to the center of his pants, where a small tent was beginning to form. “I like it.. A lot.” His breath was hoarse, barely above a whisper. “I’m usually the one being forward but it’s really hot to be wanted.”

The admission made your face flush.

“Why are you so shy? You started it.” The smug smile crept back on his face, deepening the blush in your cheeks. You wanted to quip back, to say something just as smug but all you could do was press your hand onto the burgeoning bulge in his pants. The smile on Wooyoung’s face slipped and he let out a shaky breath. This reaction brought your confidence back up and it was your turn to return the smug smile.

There was a sudden eruption of cheers behind you.

“Way to go Michelle!” cried out Rebecca.

“Let’s fucking GOOOOO!” Nayda roared.

You wanted to join in on the fun behind you but there was so much fun to be had right in front of you. Your grip on Wooyoung’s hardening dick tightened. And as the celebration behind you began to die down to cries of, “another round!” “Best out of 3!” “Move over, Joong, lemme try!” Wooyoung took this opportunity to wrap his large hands around your tiny waist and pull you into his lap. With legs on either side of him, his hands found their way underneath the mini skirt to take full handfuls of your ass.

You let out a shaky breath and try to settle into the new position. His hands were so big and so firm on your ass cheeks. He gave them a hearty squeeze and you could already feel the excitement building between your legs.

You placed both hands on his chest while arching your back, eager to feel his bulge press against the sensitive spot between your legs. That smug smile spread on his lips as he let go of one of your ass cheeks to grab the back of your neck, forcefully pulling your face close to his.

Your foreheads pressed together as his hips began moving against your form. His deep dark eyes watching yours as your bodies started synchronizing. With every roll of your hips, his hips were there to meet and reciprocate the feeling. It was slow, and deep. You could feel the complete length of his dick on your pussy every time you rolled your hips. You wanted more, you wanted to feel him inside of you. The fact that your friends were only a few feet away from you made you more excited - the promise of being watched or even caught made you press down harder on his crotch.

Wooyoung’s breathing was becoming irregular and shallow, grunts replacing some of his deeper breaths. You bit your cheek to quiet a moan. Wooyoung saw this and leaned in to kiss you but you pulled back, mischievous little grin on your pink lips. He scoffed at the action and retaliated by moving his hand from the back of your neck to the front, his fingers gripping at just the right spot.

Stars started to dot the corners of your vision from his grip and this time, you could not suppress the moan that fell from your lips. Luckily, it went unnoticed as the rest of the gang was still caught up in their friendly competition.

The lack of attention was a double-edged sword - you wanted your friends to see you like this, you wanted his friends to see you like this, but all you could focus on was the firm feel of his hard cock on your pussy. You began to dig your nails into his chest as the roar of another celebration erupted behind you.

With the possibility of being caught on the forefront of your mind, you press your hips further into his cock, the friction of his pants and your panties pushing you to the very edge. Wooyoung leaned in close to your ear, breath warm on the sensitive skin and whispered “Cum for me.”

You happily obliged, letting the warmth of the orgasm spread from the inside of your thighs throughout your entire body. The hand on your neck never loosened however, as Wooyoung was still chasing his high. In a final effort to absolutely destroy him, you bit your bottom lip and rolled off his body back onto the seat next to him, just as he finally came.

Without the feel of your pussy on his dick, the orgasm felt empty and ruined. In confusion, anger, and frustration, Wooyoung released your neck and simply sat there with his mouth open. You tried to get your breathing under control as you glanced over at the mess on his pants. You let out a lazy laugh and said, “You should get that cleaned up.”

[kristihines]

Can you trust AI Answers about your health?

During the summer of 2020, when the entire world was focused on the pandemic, getting treatment for other health issues became a challenge.

I started experiencing a lot of back pain, but I shrugged it off as an injury and took Advil to cope.

A week later, I thought I had food poisoning.

I tried an at-home service where they pumped me full of IV fluids.

I went to urgent care. They sent me to get scans. I paid hundreds of dollars out of pocket to get them quickly.

The imaging place never sent the scans to the urgent care.

A day later, I had the worst chills. It was July, in Phoenix. Most likely 100 F. I went outside and was still freezing.

At that point, I was taken to the ER. I ended up in the ICU in one of those rooms they zipped up in plastic.

While most of the focus was on COVID, I had something else: a large kidney stone. The kind that doesn’t pass on its own.

I was in septic shock and acute renal failure according to discharge papers.

The hospital stay itself wasn’t too long, but the treatment with specialists took three months to complete.

Surgeries during COVID were extra special because if you tested positive, your surgery was delayed.

Two years later, in 2022, I ended up in the same hospital for the same reason.

And now, I’m a few days into aggressive antibiotic treatment for my kidneys, yet again. Wondering if I make it to the next followup or have to Lyft off to the ER.

So what does this have to do with Google AI Answers?

In 2020 and 2022, I spent a lot of time perusing Google Search results on kidney stones.

Now, I get AI Answers above at the top of SERPs (search engine results pages).

This wouldn’t be a bad thing if one could trust the AI to accurately summarize its sources.

That’s the big if.

In the first screenshot, you’ll find an AI Answer from Google Search results for the phrase how to pass kidney stone.

The first mistake involved an error with paraphrasing a source with legitimate information.

Because I can assure you after four years of seeing urology specialists, no one has ever suggested drinking two quarts or liters of urine.

The basil leaves suggestion, on the other hand, is suspect. I’ve never come across that as a suggestion. It would have stood out, because I have a lot of basil growing around the garden.

I don’t even remember that website from my previous Google searches. I had to check Wikipedia and other sources to find out what the company even was.

Much like the search quality raters and AI Answer checkers do...

In the second screenshot, Microsoft Bing with Copilot offered ads for supplements and advice from five sources, two of which are the MSN Health Hub.

The hub includes a section where you can Ask a health professional questions.

In the third screenshot, ChatGPT using GPT-4 with browsing offered a concise response based on its training data, but claimed not to have access to external sources.

In the fourth screenshot, Perplexity provided the best AI Answer with 19 sources I recognized from my previous research into this health issue.

Moral of the story:

You can’t trust generative AI with your money or your life issues.

But if you do, start with the right AI Answer engine. One that cites sources you trust and doesn’t suggest drinking your own pee.

Think of Perplexity as a better starting point for more in-depth research that you can discuss during your next doctor’s visit.

Not as a definitive answer.

Follow @kristileilani on X for more on AI news, trends, and tools.

[thatgirlonstage]

For the mermay... how about sebaciel and the prompt is... nesting.

Hope you see this nonny!! Sorry it took a while to get to it!

———

“You needn’t be so secretive about it.”

Ciel’s cheeks flare red, a blush that spreads all the way down his neck. “It’s a humiliating necessity.” His eye is sharp and blue as he turns to glare at Sebastian. “You’re laughing at me.”

“Not at all,” Sebastian says, not bothering to hide his teeth. “Only at your meager capacity.”

“That’s the same thing!”

“I only observe that you should simply have asked me for help from the start.” Sebastian drifts around the edge of the ramshackle assortment of rocks, seaweed, coral, and sand. “I take it your parents or their servants always constructed your nests in the past?”

Ciel looks pointedly away. His tail is already starting to shed quite noticeably, deep, shimmering navy blue scales as yet unfaded by sun or sand showing through in patches. Sebastian’s jellyfish tendrils trail along the edge of the sand circle, feeling its lumpy and uneven sides. This would be no comfortable place for Ciel to wait out his molt.

“Just take care of it,” Ciel says.

Sebastian bends in a slight bow. “Yes, my lord. You shall have only the most luxurious of nests.”

Ciel huffs, sending up a stream of bubbles, but settles himself against one of the large rocks partially sheltering this section of sea floor—at least the boy had some sense of location, Sebastian reflects—and lets Sebastian get to his work.

As he clears and sorts the fumbling attempts at picking out rocks and coral, Sebastian calculates in his head. With the shedding he’s already seen on Ciel’s tail, he’ll probably need to retreat to the nest by tomorrow evening at the latest. Swimming while in molt is possible, but grossly uncomfortable and likely to damage the new scales before they’ve finished hardening. Ciel, young as he still is, will probably need four, maybe even five days before he’s ready to move again. They will have to push back their plans to investigate Druitt’s underwater palace. Ciel will no doubt proclaim his readiness to move after only two days, but Sebastian will simply have to insist on staying in the nest.

It will be… oddly peaceful, those days of nothing but rest and grooming, Sebastian thinks. Nothing to do but scrub the dead old scales away and let the new ones finish growing in. A year ago, Sebastian would have balked at the notion he would be stuck on this contract long enough to see the child molt. Now, he feels an odd warmth at the anticipation. There is, perhaps, something unusually enjoyable about this particular deal, this particular contractor, something that makes Sebastian not mind so much adding extra days to their time together.

He does nothing so gauche as to steal looks at his little master. If, though, in the course of his work, he happens to be positioned so as to spy Ciel’s attention on Sebastian’s hands as they work, on the ghost of a pleased smile with a hint of its own hunger—well, he simply has good eyes.

———

Mermay prompts are open until May 31st!

[perpetuelledaydreaming]

Ivy | chapter two

summary: Rooster always knows your drink of choice and how you liked to be kissed, while Jake and you keep breaking things.

listen to: Sad beautiful tragic (Taylor’s version) -Taylor Swift | Midnight rain - Taylor Swift | Style- Taylor Swift | Desesperados -Rauw Alejandro (playlist here)

warning: smuttt

word count: 6.4k

series masterlist + read the next chapter early on my ko-fii!!

“I just can’t imagine myself in a world where I’m not with you, always,” Rooster stated in the small room you’d been assigned on the aircraft carrier after. 

The mission had ended. Maverick had saved Rooster, then Rooster had saved Maverick and then Hangman had saved both of them. All of the personnel in the carrier had celebrated once they landed, you’d cried as you watched your uncle Maverick climbing off the plane but especially Rooster, who’d hugged you, picking you up from the floor as you’d launched into his arms. 

“Rooster,” you breathed as he gave a step forward to you. 

“I’ve always loved you, I’ve always loved you and I can’t pretend that I don’t,” Rooster stated as he cupped your face in his large hands, leaning down softly before he kissed you with intent. 

You took your time but soon you were draping your arm on Rooster’s shoulder as he picked you up easily by the waist, pressing you against him and raising you so you were mostly at the same eye level. He held you, swaying both of you softly as you continued to kiss the other in the darkness of the room. You had never wanted anything else, you wanted this, him to go to your room and have you soft and pliant against him, you wanted him to be yours. 

Your mind snapped when someone yell from one of the corners of the Hard Deck. You glanced at the officer before your eyes fell back to where you were looking before, to Rooster’s caramel curls and his stupid Hawaiian shirt. 

The Hard Deck was always packed on a Saturday night, a sea of beige and green uniforms would come around six o’clock and leave at four a.m. approximately. In between that sea of beige and green, up at the pool table section, a tradition had been established. At six o’clock the dagger squad would meet there to play some nice game of pool, a space reserved by your friends, to relax after a week of flying through the sky. 

If it was a good day, Hangman and Rooster along with Fanboy would be butting heads about who would win but at the end, Phoenix and you would usually take the price, which meant that anything you’d ordered would be paid by them while Payback and Bob would take advantage of the game and bet. It had been like that around five months after you’d ended the uranium mission. There were short missions here and there but then you were stationed somewhere else, then Virginia came around and the rest was history. 

Until now. 

You glanced as the others were playing pool while you sat at the bar, waiting for Rooster who’d whispered something to Phoenix, she patted him on the back as if he was encouraging him. You refused to dwell on it, knowing where the conversation was going to go; just as you’d refused to dwell on the fact that Hangman had his eyes on you at that moment too. 

“Well, Kazansky,” Penny muttered softly as she gave you a smirk from the edge of the bar. 

“Penny,” you nodded gracefully at her, hoping that it would allow you some grace time prior to the interrogatory she would do. 

Before Penny could open her mouth, you felt Rooster’s hand on the small of your back. 

He had always been into physical touch, he loved having you close enough that you could feel the heat irradiating from his skin. You recalled how you would hug him from behind when he was shirtless in the kitchen, and place a soft kiss between his shoulder blades. The whole thing seemed like a lifetime ago. 

“Penny,” Rooster cooed softly, a wide smile on his face. 

“Rooster,” Penny smiled as he eyed both of you. “You seem in a happy mood,” she answered. 

Your eyes narrowed immediately at the insinuation but Penny chose to ignore you while Rooster chuckled softly, he glanced at you softly and decided it would be best to ignore it too. Though, he could barely hold it in himself not to say that he was relieved about seeing you again, about being close to you again. 

“When am I not when I see you,” Rooster answered with those eyebrows raised happily. “Can we have a beer and a lemonade, please?”

You turned around with a smile. He always remembered, you didn’t like beer and you wouldn’t drink while you were working, just like your father had taught you. 

“On their way,” Penny nodded while winking at Rooster and then smirking at you. 

Penny had always liked you together, she was friends with your mother who was also the daughter of another admiral. They’d known each other since they were teenagers, growing up along with Penny was something you’d love; Rooster did too. 

“Thank you,” Rooster and you replied at the same time. You gazed at the other for a second before you laughed softly. 

Rooster finally let go of the small of your back as he sat down next to you with a sigh. Both of you fell into a comfortable silence, Rooster noticed the pensive look on your face as you looked into the ceiling, you often did that, he’d noticed. He didn’t exactly know why you did that but he decided not to mess with it as he realized that he was the only one you did that with and he’d come to love how you looked when you did it as if you were staring into outer space. 

You didn’t talk until Penny brought your drinks. 

“Do you think that this mission would be flown on F-18s? Or F-35?” you decided to go with the mission talk. You remember how much you studied together, and how many things you would discuss the missions prior to this one.

It somehow made you and him feel better as if you were safer if you knew every detail together. 

“F-35 but you know Mav’s love for F-18,” Rooster replied jokingly. 

You raised your eyebrows, smirking knowingly. “You think Cyclone’s going to allow that again?”

Rooster chuckled softly as he sipped on his beer softly while gazing at you. His eyes always gleamed in a certain way since you knew him, they never light up like that for anyone else. 

“It has a good track,” he answered, biting his inner cheek.

You rolled your eyes at him while laughing softly, Rooster followed suit. Still, his eyes gleamed in a way that you feel your heart squeezing tight on your chest. You knew him like the palm of your hand, the magnetic force that pulled you both together felt like gravity when you were around him, you knew his scars and how they felt under your fingertips. 

“I’ve missed you,” Rooster muttered as he leaned into you once the laughter died down, he placed his hand on your leg softly. 

You stayed quiet for a second, not daring to look at him. You stared down at the hand and gulped. You knew that he hadn’t accepted that things were over, that they’d been ruined to the point that you didn’t know if they were beyond repair. 

Another part of you wondered if this was you if it was just in your head and if the right thing was to let go of what had happened. 

“Rooster,” you stated, hoping that you sounded more authoritative, more firm like your father often did. 

He didn’t listen though, he knew he wasn’t very good with hard conversations and especially after what he’d done to you, even more, when he knew that you had a hard time with putting your walls down. He was aware of them, he was so aware of them because he’d been right there when you started building them and he was one of the few people you’d allowed to enter. 

Now, he just was an outsider, another one of the bunch, and Rooster hated it. 

“I’ve missed you so much,” he repeated as he leaned down, even more, he pressed his forehead softly against your temple, his lips ghosting over your ear. 

You closed your eyes for a second. Lips on the shell of your ear, the lemon and burnt wood scent surrounding you, his groans, and your soft breaths as Jake guided your hips. The memory flashed before your eyes, you opened them startled as you pulled away from Rooster, quickly climbing down off the chair. 

“We shouldn’t do this here,” you replied as you looked around, some people had noticed; you glanced at the pool table, and you saw Hangman watching you from afar, the pole so tight on his hands that you could see his knuckles turning white. 

“You said that we could talk,” Rooster protested, you glanced at him again as you watched the hurt puppy eyes that he was giving you. 

You pinch the bridge of your nose as your eyes fell into the crowd, not daring to look back again at the pool table when Hangman is looking at you. The way that both of them stared at you as if they were waiting as if the silence would make you speak or break whatever illusion there was. 

“Yeah, but not like this in front of our friends,” you reasoned. It’s a half-true. You didn’t want to do anything of the sort in front of your friends and co-workers, and you were fairly private with your personal life; obviously, you were close but you’d learned from your dad that it was best to keep things to yourself. 

You also didn’t want to do it in form of Hangman. 

You hadn’t spoken since the morning, stolen glances here and there, a small hi when you two were in the same room. Sometimes he smiled at you, you wondered if it was because he realized that you were walking slightly funny because of the damage he’d done or because he knew that under your uniform you were covered in hickeys and bruises from the night before. Sometimes he glared at you, especially when you were close to Rooster. 

“Why hadn’t you told them?” Rooster questioned you. 

“It’s none of their business,” you replied. 

Rooster nodded softly at you, he glanced back at the table and then looked around as he placed his hands on his hips. He passed a hand through his caramel curls, he was meditating on it, you hoped that he would listen to you, that he would leave it alone but you knew Rooster, you knew that he wouldn’t. 

“I really need to tell you this,” 

You sighed, nodding softly. 

“Come,”

You grabbed Rooster’s wrist, tugging him forward as you pulled him from the bar, through the crowd of uniforms hoping that no one would see you, hoping that no one would notice both of you exciting the bar and walking to the beach, hoping that Hangman wouldn’t be looking. 

The sea was loud, waves crashing down a bit harder than usual. There was a crescent moon above the two of you, you could see part of his features in the darkness but it wasn’t the calm and breezy place that you’d grown up with. As if the sky and the sea could feel your feelings too, you weren’t at peace at all, less with Rooster looking at you in a way that you didn’t want at the moment. 

“I’m so sorry,” He finally breathed out, his voice wavering for a second in the end. You stared at him, you’d heard him saying sorry so many times in the last two months of calls and the night that it happened. Only until now, the word didn’t sound so hollow in your ears. “I... I’m so so sorry about what I…” Rooster struggled, you wondered if it was because he had a harder time accepting what he did, it didn’t go with how he often saw himself, he was always in check. “I messed it up so badly, I want to fix this and us,”

You closed your eyes at his plead, you knew that he was sorry but the mere suggestion of just wanting to fix it sounded terribly trivial at best, at worst, the thing was that he was trying to fix you. 

“Rooster, I’ve told you before that we can be friends but,” you sighed but Rooster quickly cut you off. 

“I’ve always loved you and I think, what I did,” he continued. “I’m not drinking and I’ve been going to therapy and it’s,”

“Rooster, that’s great but,” 

He cut you off again. It overwhelmed you, his words, the weight of them, and you began to feel out of breath as you stared at him, as your voice was drowned by his, again. 

“You are it, for me and I can’t think about being with anyone else but you,” you could feel the desperation in his tone, even more, when he stepped closer to you. 

“Bradley, I…” 

You didn’t have a second to react, to pull away. You were engulfed by him, Rooster quickly cupped your face softly, closing the space between your lips. It was soft, it was comforting, and it was in a way like all the prior kisses that you’d had before. The kiss stole your breath away but the passion that usually filled your kisses wasn’t quite there, there was the intent but soon you realized that intensity wasn’t passion, Rooster was clutching, clutching to hope, the hope of having you back.

You quickly pulled away from him, placing your hands on his large chest and pushing him off you. Rooster stumbled slightly on the sand as you breathed harshly. His gaze flickered down at his feet and then at you, confusion clouding his thoughts. 

“Could you just stop and try to fucking listen?” you snapped at him, glaring at him. 

“I…”

How dared he? After everything that had happened, he thought that after twenty-four hours of seeing each other he could have you back.

“I’m beyond heartbroken too about what happened but it’s not,” you tried to put together any coherent thought. It wasn’t just that you still felt hurt about what happened, that you weren’t sure that you could fix it because, at the end of the day, you didn’t want the same things. “You still want kids and a wife?”

Bradley blinked at you, his breathing a bit harsh. “I want you,” he replied, honestly. 

You stared at him as you passed a hand through your hair. It was strange, the tension around you, how the overwhelming nature of it all was coating everything; even Rooster and you. Rooster’s shoulder sank as if dread filled his whole body, you hated it, you felt like you were breaking him on purpose.

“You didn’t answer my question,” you muttered as you stared at him. He wanted a bride, a housewife while you were chasing something completely different. “I can’t go back to this,”

You tried to will your voice not to tremble but it cracked at the end as you watched him. The tears threatened to fall from your eyes as you glared at Rooster for a second before you decided that it was enough pain for one night. You didn’t listen to him, just like he hadn’t listened to you, you chose to leave, quickly climbing into your bike and riding home. 

On the way home, you thought about it all. Were you being heartless? Were you out of your mind pulling him away? How many girls wouldn’t want that? You weren’t new to pushing people away, pushing sometimes things that made you happy away. You often did it, which is why you hadn’t told Rooster your feelings for him when you realized it when he was almost killed on that mission, and probably you wouldn’t have told him if it wasn’t for him confessing it right away. 

Ice would’ve known what to do. He would’ve helped you reason it, you weren’t afraid of telling him things even though the only thing you wanted was to make him proud. Ice enjoyed that you always came to him for advice, you were so close. 

Maybe, he would’ve told you that it wasn’t the best that you moved in with Rooster so fast when you’d started being together. Maybe, he would’ve told you that you were going too fast with Rooster and it could give him the wrong impression. Maybe, he would’ve told you that the two of you didn’t match. But he hadn’t been here with you when it all passed and you had to face what you did yourself. 

When you reached your place, it was still early in the night but your mother was out, and the lights were off in the house. She often liked to have dinner on Saturdays with your sister and her family, she would often spend hours with your nieces and would be too enthralled by them, reading them stories and putting them to sleep to even realize how late she would usually arrive. But then you noticed that there was a truck, a familiar one that you’d recalled seeing before. 

It wasn’t until you reached the gate to the backyard so you could go to the guest house, that you realized who it belonged to. You dropped the keys on the ground, stiffening and freezing in place because right in front of you, Jake was there. Sitting down on the steps, in front of the gate. He raised his head softly as he heard your footsteps, pushing himself from the stairs and standing up straight. 

He was still in uniform and you wondered how long he’d been there, when he’d left the bar and how quickly he got to your place, he’d been there before when you still lived in San Diego, it shouldn’t be that shocking but it still rocked you slightly. You noticed that he looked pretty underneath the soft moonlight, his sea-foam eyes still visible even in the darkness. 

“Hangman?” you asked softly. “What are you doing here?”

We need to talk,” he said, his accent showing up slightly while he looked at you. 

You rolled your eyes before you picked your keys from the ground and walked towards the gate. “Everyone wants to talk today,” you replied as you walked past him before opening the door. “Look I’m exhausted and,”

“I swear, I’m not going to take more than five minutes,” Jake pleaded, leaning in with an anxious breath. 

You turned around, raising your eyebrow as your heart rate picked up. Hangman tried to keep his features as neutral as possible, but you still saw the look in his eyes. The overcoming nature of his look was the thing that made you change your mind, at least you figured, you could finish whatever had started the night before without many ramifications coming from it. 

“Come in,” you finally breathed out, swallowing as you step out of his way and motioned him to come inside. Jake followed your suit through the garden until you reached the house. It wasn’t an enormous place by any means, it seemed more like a pretty apartment but you were thankful to have it either way. 

 “You want something to drink?” you asked Jake as you finally closed the door to your place, leaving your purse and keys on the sofa as Jake stood awkwardly in the living room. 

Jake laid his eyes on you as you walked to the kitchen, in a way that you felt your skin burning at the thought of him just looking like you in such a manner. But you didn’t want or need to think about it, already being exhausted with everything that had unfolded.

“It’s fine, thank you,” he replied as you nodded while staring at him, always a gentleman, you thought. 

Silence filled the room as your gazes met, the tension crackling in the air as you held your breath as you anticipated his words. Hangman was known for sleeping around, he wasn’t a slut but he wasn’t a saint either, you knew that much. He’d probably regret giving you a wrong impression, he probably wanted to clear the air about it so you could keep a healthy competition on the mission; you wondered why it stung a bit. 

“Brat, about last night,” Jake finally breathed out as he walked towards you in his flight suit, but you cut him off. You didn’t want to be hurt any longer, Rooster and you had made enough damage for a day. 

“Hangman, I know that you’re dating or seeing other girls, or sleeping with them and it’s honestly not an issue. I understand,” you stated, clasping your hands delicately-weaving your fingers together- as you stared at him, hoping that your raw statement would allow him to take a deep breath, give you the familiar grin and leave you alone. 

But he didn’t. 

Jake frowned, his confused expression nearly broke you as he blinked rapidly, attempting to process your statement.  

“That’s not what I’m saying, at all,” Jake scoffed as he walked closer to you while your eyes widened a bit. 

“You’re not?”

“I, what happened last night was,” Jake struggled to find the words as you looked up at him doe-eyed, eyebrows furrowed. “It was,” he stopped himself again, frustration written all over his features. 

How could he say that you were the only thing in his mind since the night before was you? How could he say that he’d almost wanted to break Rooster’s nose when he saw how he leaned into you? 

He didn’t have any right to feel like that. You didn’t know about how he felt, he’d never let it shown either way, at least not in an obvious matter. Coyote seemed to be the only one that noticed it, Hangman’s persistent glances, the fact that he let you win -sometimes- on purpose, the way he teased you. 

It startled you, the way he’s unable to speak. Hangman always had something to say but now the words seemed to die down. 

“Did you,” you started but then you closed your mouth, processing his reaction. Part of you wanted to ask him if he’d felt the same intensity that you’d felt but it was complicated to even articulate such a thing, even more, when this was Hangman, you were talking about. You opted for light humor, thinking that Hangman would take it better, trying to go back to your previous dynamic. “Did I leave you speechless, Hangman?” you asked with a smirk. 

Jake didn’t laugh, he simply huffed as he walked closer to you. “Stop, I’m being serious,” Jake grumbled and you laughed softly at him.

“I am being serious too, Hangman,” you teased him, it should’ve been funny but Jake wasn’t laughing. “Were you too pus-”

Your witty response died down on your throat as soon as Jake cupped your face in his hands and leaned in, a small gasp escaped your lips as your eyes met with his demanding gaze. The action was quick and sharp, your pulse raced as Jake’s eyes fell to your lips and then back to your eyes. 

“You said it was the last time. Were you serious about it?” he murmured.

The sincerity in his voice shook you to the bone as you stared at him while his thumb swiped over his cheekbone, eyes pensive. 

“You don’t want me to touch you like I did last night?” the question made your heart lurch on your chest, your body fizzling with excitement as you felt how low his voice was. “Because I know you felt it too, it was amazing and I,” Jake swallowed hard. “Are you back together with him?”

“No,”

Jake let out a breath, his lips quirking up slightly as he pressed his forehead softly against yours. “Good,” he murmured. “Haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” he breathes out as he pressed his lips eagerly to yours and you let him. 

You let him because you knew that you would be a fool if you were going to just ignore how good it was, how happy you were after months of depression, how your body felt like it was on fire, because deep in your heart you knew that you wanted it too. 

He pressed a hand into your shoulder blade to arch you to him. The kiss was slow, deep, passionate, and lingering desperation rumbling slowly on it as you titled your head, deepening the kiss while his body pressed up fully against you. You quickly wrapped your arm behind his neck and Jake responded by grasping your hips, lifting you up, and settling you on your kitchen island. You could feel him even though both of your flight suits, you pressed your thigh a bit more firmly against him. The effect was instantaneous as Jake let out a soft growl from deep in his chest, sending a ripple of heat shooting down his spine at the sound. You whimpered as you pulled him forward, laying back on the island as the keys and your things clattered on the floor as you slid your arm down to his chest and began to play with the zipper of his flight suit but you lost the train of thoughts as soon as he pulled down yours. 

Jake’s fingers skimmed the sensitive inner skin of your thigh before he placed his hands under the shorts that you were wearing, they brushed your clit softly. You hissed as he slid his middle fingers into you, making you moan at the stretch as you rucked your hips slightly. Jake’s eyes flashed with a mischievous glint and lustful spark as he lunged towards you into another bruising kiss while you struggled with his flight suit while his fingers pumped in and out of you at a steady rate. 

“Jake,” you moaned, Jake’s hips stuttering slightly as he heard you. 

He closed his eyes as you let out another contented moan from your lips while he curled his fingers inside of you expertly before he was kissing you again as he hovered over you, more things -even a glass that you’d left in the morning- clattering and breaking on the floor. You took mental note about the fact that you might need new glasses and that you should probably try to get to the bed before you were breaking more things, but your thoughts went out the window as he bit the revealed skin of your neck before he sucked on it. It had you breathing harsh and whimpering at the action. 

You quickly pushed Jake away. He stared at you wildly and you noticed that maybe he had been waiting for this, for you to snap him out of this dream - maybe telling him off but it wasn’t it. 

“We need to…” you whispered, “We should go to my room,” 

Jake nodded as he climbed down off the kitchen island and quickly lifted you off it as well as if you wouldn’t be able to climb down yourself. You stared at the other as he carefully placed you on the floor, your chests still flushed against the other. You were still breathing harshly as you stared at the other and then you noticed the hint of a smile tugging his lips softly. 

“But, we should take this off, first,” Jake murmured, closer than before, the lemon and burnt wood scent overwhelming you as he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours softly. 

He moved the suit from your shoulders, it quickly pooled off from them and fell to the floor. He grinned innocently while you stared at him. He quickly pulled your shirt over your head and you followed suit, allowing him to undress you. He moved to his knees before you, his eyes trained on your body as he took the edges of your shorts and underwear, he looked up at you for a second -his eyes gleamed as he stared at you in awe and lust. His eyes making you feel breathless, it’d been a while since you felt like that, it’d been a while since someone had looked at you like that, it had been a while since Rooster had looked at you like that. 

You were now completely naked in front of him and Hangman didn’t waste a second. He guided one of your thighs over his shoulder, pressing his lips against the inner skin of your thigh as you stared at him, fingers sliding into his hair, waiting for him as he looked up at you coyly. You were about to complain but you barely get a word out before he finally pressed his mouth between your legs. 

“Fuck,” you cried out, tugging on his hair as Jake’s lips wrap around your clit. 

He flicked his tongue against it tauntingly as you whined, jutting your hips out toward him. The sounds you made spurred him on, as he slipped his tongue into our pussy. You curl your fingers into his hair, harder than before as he groaned softly against your core as you cry loudly. His nose grazes your clit as his tongue fucked into you while you tried to grind your core down onto his mouth. 

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop,” you whimpered, chest heaving as Hangman’s hold on your hips gets tighter once he feels your legs beginning to tremble. 

Jake hummed in affirmation as you gasp, feeling that the knot on your lower stomach was about to snap as he pressed his lips more eagerly between your legs while you could feel him smirking. If you didn’t know him any better, you were sure that he had a cocky line ready for you, had his tongue not been inside of you. 

“Shit, shit,” you chanted, realizing that Jake was probably having a field day by how he had you, he was trying to do even better than the day before and he was. Jake quickly pressed his fingers inside of you once more, curling them inside of you before he kissed your lip, pushing you over the edge. 

The scream was raw as your whole body buzzed, the warmth spreading throughout your body as your legs shook uncontrollably by the force of your orgasm. But Jake didn’t waste a second, before your vision cleared, he straightened back up, grabbing your jaw and pulling you in for a kiss. You whimpered as you tasted yourself in his mouth. Flames ignite between the two of you, scorching and burning both of you as your lops crash against the other, mouths moving together as your hands roamed everywhere, touching, gripping, grabbing anything you could find. You tug on his flight suit, pulling it down before Jake finally removed the black shirt he had underneath and his boots, your mouth still pressed against his, tongues wrestling for dominance, twining with each other, tasting each other. 

Suddenly, Jake’s hand pressed on your hips turning you as you grabbed the edge of the kitchen island while pressing his chest to your back. He left open-mouthed kisses across your neck and your shoulder blades while you tried to recover your breath but you could only feel Jake. 

Never in your life, you’d been so reckless, you were only reckless in the sky. Growing up with an admiral like Ice, you were raised under pretty strict terms, overprotected and responsible; being the elder daughter. This though, you couldn’t believe you restricted yourself since the academy, you couldn’t deny that the thought of Jake had passed your mind once or twice when you first saw him. But you kept the desire so back in your mind that you hadn’t thought about it for a while until yesterday. And when you woke up you hadn’t even had time to relish what had happened, too worried about Bradley to even think about how Jake had made you feel. 

“I’ll never get tired of looking at you,” Jake murmured as his lips pressed to your shoulder. You smile softly as you push your hips back against his, feeling him persistently pushing against you. “You take me so well, don't you, sweetheart?”

“Hangman, come on,” you whimpered as you moved your hips again, looking for any friction. 

Jake chuckled slightly as a hand reached for your pussy while he presses harder against you. You cry out when he starts to play with your clit, you are sensitive from your first orgasm but that doesn’t stop him as his fingers run through your folds. 

“You’re soaked, angel,” he murmured, almost amused as he saw how you react. He kissed your temple as he continued to work on you. You felt yourself flushing by how sensitive and responsive you were to him, it should be embarrassing or even humiliating at how quickly your whole body craves him, you could feel your arousal coating your inner thigh. 

And although he’s so good at touching you with his fingers, you want him now. 

“Jake,” you snap as he continued to play with your pussy. “Can you fucking hurry up?”

Jake smirked as he watched you. Amazed by the way that you are so needy for him, you always seemed so fucking independent, you never asked for help -not even in missions, which you’d been reprimanded for but now, you are so willing, so open for him, so trusting that it almost made Jake felt like he was about to say something he shouldn’t. 

“C’me here,” Jake whispered gravelly, pushing you onto your stomach on the counter before he sank into you, feeling every single one of his inches. You were so wet for him, so ready but you still cried out so loudly that the thought of your mother hearing you passed your mind. 

He was buried so deep inside of you that his eyes rolled to the back of his head for a second, hips stuttering slightly. For Jake, you felt so fucking perfect, so good, so warm, so tight. Though Jake gave you a few seconds to adjust, you still winced, your body desperately trying to adjust to the stretch of him while he didn’t give you time. 

“God, you feel so fucking good,” Jake choked out as you felt his fingers sinking tightly into your skin the more he trusted you. God, you hoped you were bruised. 

You gripped the edge of the island, gasping for a breath each time Jake hit your sweet spot. You pushed backward with each of his thrusts, holding your lip between your teeth as you moaned his name, very quickly climbing towards a violent release that you knew you wouldn’t be able to contain.

Jake continued to drag himself out and then thrust back into you, while you took him so loving and warm, accepting him however he took you. Even, if you would end up sprawled on your kitchen island, your stomach and tits mashed on the cold marble with Jake driving into you from behind. 

“Harder!” you gasped. 

Jake let out an animalistic growl under his breath as he rocked himself deeply into you, almost senselessly, your skin slapping together as you matched each other’s wild thrust. Suddenly, Jake curled a hand into your hair, yanking you back in pleasurable pain. You arched your back sharply, letting out an absolutely pornographic moan as your body erupted from the pleasure. You gasped, moaning out for him as he grunted in your ear. Jake bit down on your neck, over the bruise he made there the night before and you felt your brain shortcircuiting, the pleasure overwhelming your body but your brain still needed more. 

It took all the strength that you have to push yourself a little bit off the kitchen island, allowing you some leverage as you begin to rock your hips back. Jake’s hips stuttered once again as he watched you fuck yourself on his cock. 

More, you needed more. 

Jake pulled out of you briefly, you whimpered at the loss of heat but soon a gasp escaped your lips, you’re so lost, losing track of anything and letting him manhandle so easily that’s embarrasing. Soon, your back hits the floor softly as Jake hovered over you before he filled you again in one swift motion, roughly driving into you. You gasped as your hands fly to his neck, and pull him closer to you. Blind with pleasure, your body decides for you, you rose your hips, moving against him in a frenzied fervor, relishing in the thick hardness of his cock roughly stroking your walls. You could barely open your eyes but when you did, you felt tears brimming in your eyes from the way he was pushing into you and looking at you, those sea-foam eyes so lovingly. You stroked Jake’s cheek with one hand before you touched his lips with your thumb like he’d done the night before, but this time he opened his mouth for you, accepting as you rested your thumb inside his mouth before he sucked on it softly. 

Your heart was beating so fast that you felt like you were about to have a heart attack, soon, you tugged him down, claiming his lips into a vulgar kiss. Jake complied, loving the way you tasted, and the way you sounded, he was completely amazed by you as he felt you clenching around him. He continues pounding into you until your body felt like it was being engulfed in flames, lightning shooting down your back and pooling in your core as his fingers dug into the flesh of your ass, yanking you forward roughly to match his thrust. The sensation is almost too unbelievable as Jake let out a deep grunt and you a hoarse moan into his lips. 

Soon, you were both losing it, his hips jutting jerkily between your spread legs as you clench around his cock as the tempo increased. Then, he thrusted hard and hit an unimaginable spot inside of you, soon you unraveled with a scream as white spots clouded your vision. Jake’s breath grew ragged, coming out in rasps. It was too much, too hectic and frantic. One harsh, powerful thrust from him brought you both over the edge. You screamed as you reached completion, feeling him bursting inside of you as his eyes shut tight. 

Your head was spinning as Jake’s head fell on the valley of your breasts. Your bodies still in shock from the unbelievable ecstasy of your release. Then he raises his head, your eyes met and all too suddenly, you realized that you had done it, yet again. 

So much for being the last time, you thought.  So much for reaching your room, Jake thought.

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author's note: I can't wait to hear your thoughts on this, I'm sorry it has taken me so so long, I'll try to update the next one this week. as always thank you for reading!! and your support on ko-fi too.

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