#we need to populate the tag or die trying

[dayurno]

there are anonymous dayurno fics out there oh this changes everything…… gonna scour the kevin day tags harder than usual fr

BAHAHA THERE ARE TWO!!!! one is the aforementioned rock and a hard place the other is a kandrew pwp. truly the time i posted both i was just embarrassed about posting any pwp and then later when i got over it i just realized they were not very good and did not particularly want to respond for either. i'm never going to take rock and a hard place out of anon because that fic sucks and i could do better now (And I Might)

[bookwyrminspiration]

the overturning of the law of daynos was kind of overshadowed by the complete clusterfuck (positive) that was book 3's ending, but can we back it up a second. they overturned the law of daynos. they didn't even really believe in overturning it, they just needed it to work one specific personal thing out. but that has massive ramifications. they showed up, decimated the current vané social structure and then left. can you imagine all the problems they left behind my god

[sstormyskyess]

Hello lovely moot! Can I send a request? Need some more Gaz content please, there’s not enough as we well know. How about something steamy, stolen kisses and an intimate moment when the rest of the team are busy elsewhere. Gotta keep it quiet so no one catches you in the act and blows the secret. Happy with your choice of reader gender identity but top Gaz please 🖤🖤🖤

Undercover

author's note: hi beloved moot and fellow gaz lover!! i will always write gaz content til the day i die, i will populate the gaz x reader tag myself if i have to 💜 thank you for the request!! [and apologies for the wait, finals season is kicking my ass 🥱]

cw: smut, semi-public sex, fingering, unsafe sex [wrap it before you tap it!]

word count: 2100+

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick / Fem!Reader

Gaz had been getting on your nerves for the past hour now. He must be pent up from the last mission; there would be no other reason for him to be practically begging for your attention when he had plenty of other things to focus on. Mainly, the mission brief that was currently being held. The one that would be dictating the strategies you would be employing for the next mission.

But instead of taking in that crucial information, Gaz was squeezing and kneading at the meat of your thighs under the table. You shoot him yet another glare but his eyes remain forward, albeit unfocused. Your face was warming up exponentially, despite the cold winter air drifting in through the door.

“Soap, Ghost. This is need to know, follow me.” Price nodded to the door and all three of them left the room, leaving just you and Gaz in the makeshift meeting room that had been fashioned in the safehouse. Your gaze snaps to Gaz, a frown on your face. “What is wrong with you?!” You whisper-yell, your face heated up all the way down to your shirt collar.

He puts his hands up defensively, a cocky smile playing at his features. “I don’t know what you mean, sweetheart.” You groan, rolling your eyes and rubbing your hands over your face to calm yourself down enough to not strangle him half to death on the spot. “Were you paying attention to the brief at all?” You groan, exasperated by his antics.

Any further protests you were planning on raising were swiftly cut short by Gaz’s lips on yours, his tongue sliding across your bottom lip. You latch your hand to his shoulder, gripping tight and trying to push him off, your frustration fighting to keep your desires under control. He only deepens the kiss, leaning over you and pushing you back against the table. Ultimately, the heat between your legs won out, your body letting him lay you on the old wooden table, covered in important documents that most certainly weren’t meant to be tampered with or damaged in any way.

You let out a little whine into his mouth as his hands started to palm at your chest through your clothes, the soft plush of your breasts squishing under his touch. His hands slip into your sweater, pushing your bra upwards to get better access to your warm skin and perked up nipples. It doesn’t take long for him to lean down and shove his head under the hem of your shirt and wrap his soft lips around one of your hardened buds.

You gasp, grabbing onto his head through the thick fabric making up your sweater. “Gaz, they’re right outside!” You squeak, wiggling in his grasp. He just continues his cruel machinations, pulling you closer even though he was already practically laying on top of you. “I guess we better stay quiet then, yeah?” His voice is muffled by both your skin and the cover of your sweater over his head.

He holds your hips tight to stop your squirming before his fingers start to unbuckle your belt and slip the hem of your cargo pants down. They get shucked off, falling to the ground in a heap, leaving you in only your sweater and your underwear. Your legs instinctively try to close to stave off the cold air against your dampened panties, but Gaz catches them before they can.

He licks his lips at the sight of the wet spot your pussy had created on the soft fabric covering it up, a near ravenous glint in his eyes. He had to force himself to calm down, though; he didn’t have time to bury his face between your legs until your legs were shaking. That would have to wait for later. But he needed you, now.

You let him pull your panties to the side and glide his fingers along your slit, a shiver going down your spine at the feeling. “God, you’re soaked, love.” He smiles to himself, slipping one of his fingers inside, another fitting in beside the first quickly. You bite down on your bottom lip, barely able to suppress the needy moan that bubbles up at the way his digits wormed their way into your tight heat.

He starts to pump his fingers in and out, your hips twitching upwards in response with a sharp inhale. “Fuck—!” You slap your hand over your mouth to keep yourself quiet, your eyes darting to the door for fear of the other three returning and seeing you in this position. Gaz would have none of that, he decided before he grabbed your chin with his other hand and turned your eyes back toward him. “Eyes on me, darling, c’mon.”

Your breath hitches at the hungry look he gives you. You look him over through the fog slowly clouding your brain, taking note of the straining of his pants trying to hold his aching cock back. You’re brought back to reality when his fingers press against that spot that only he can reach, your back arching off the table. The spongy flesh melds around his middle and ring finger, a sharp jolt of pleasure shooting through you. You whine, wiggling under his touch. “Gaz, just hurry up!”

Gaz simply smirks, finally undoing his belt and pulling the zipper of his pants down with his free hand, the outline of his bulge visible behind the fabric of his boxer briefs. You gasp when he pulls you toward the edge of the table, your core pressing up against his clothed cock. He grips your hips tightly, grinding into you and putting delightful friction on your clit through your underwear.

He takes a little while longer to work you open, his fingers spreading your walls open. You clench around them, a tiny whimper leaving your pursed lips. “Gaz, c’mon..!”

“You think you’re ready for me?” He taunts, his smug face making a wave of frustration roll through you. “Yes, I’m ready! Hurry, please!” You whine at him. He shakes his head, laughing quietly. “Alright, alright.”

He lets go of your hip to fish his cock out of his underwear, stiff and leaking at the tip. You bite your lip at the sight, watching him intently as he pumps himself a few times and milks a few more drops of his pre-cum out. Your eyes dart between that delicious sight and his face, feeling your cheeks warm.

You hardly notice his fingers sliding out of you and the head of his cock lining up with your pussy, gliding through your folds. Before you know it, he’s pressing into you, stretching you open. It rips a moan from your lips, a moan that’s just a little too loud.

He jerks up to put his palm over your mouth and continues pushing himself inside. The rest of the moans you let out are muffled by his hand, and he chuckles imagining how loud you would be if he let you sing for him out loud. Maybe later tonight. “You know how much I love your voice, but you have to stay quiet, sweetheart.”

You shoot a glare at him, your eyes shouting at him, ‘If you didn’t want to get caught, why did we do this in the first place,’ but your wordless complaints are stifled when he starts moving his hips. Your back arches at the pace he sets off the jump; it’s obvious he was done playing around now, something about being enveloped in your wet cunt fully awakening his desires.

You cry out behind his hand, putting your own hand over his in an attempt to subdue your own voice more than it already was. The tip of his cock kisses your cervix over and over, the pressure in the pit of your stomach building up with each thrust. He leans over you, hands firmly planted on the table, hitting a different angle than before. A better angle.

Kyle grazes across your sweet spot, your entire body jumping in response. You practically scream his name into the palm of his hand, your eyes rolling back. “Fuuuck…” He groans at the way you tighten around him, his hips stuttering before continuing his quick pace. You whine, hips canting upwards to meet his thrusts.

Your eyes widen when he removes his hand while you were mid-moan, your own hand slapping over your mouth to replace his. He doesn’t let it stay there for long, though; he takes your wrist and pulls it away from your face, leaning down to put his lips on yours in a heated kiss. You let him slip his tongue into your mouth to dance with your own, covering up your lewd noises.

The table legs scrape along the floor with every one of his thrusts. You claw at his back through his shirt, tugging on it. “Gaz—” You have to bite your lip to stop your words from devolving into a moan, before continuing, “S-Slow down, they’re gonna hear us—!” You squeak when all he responds with is a particularly rough thrust.

“D-Don’t care if they hear, fuck—need to feel you cum on my cock, c’mon, do it,” He mutters and starts pulling you into his thrusts, groaning at the feeling of your pussy clenching down on him as you neared your climax.

He takes a moment to lean back and look over your body, a slight sheen of sweat gracing your skin and your eyes glassy. You feel his cock twitch inside you and your hips jerk; you stifle your whine, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him closer, desperate to finally cum.

“Christ, love,” He pants, his fingers digging into the plush of your thighs. “You’re so fuckin’ tight—” He bites into his fist, groaning into it. His hand shakes as he drags it to your clit, rubbing quick little circles into your sensitive nub. Your hands fly up to cover your mouth and muffle the string of moans that leaves you as your orgasm finally hits.

Gaz braces his hands on the table’s surface, nearly collapsing under the overwhelming feeling of the walls of your tight cunt fluttering as you cum. It only takes a couple more pumps of his cock for him to finish, his cum sending a pleasantly warm feeling through your body and eliciting a moan from you, not caring about the volume anymore.

Your breath shudders as you try to regain your bearings, your mind a bit fuzzy. His chest rises and falls with heavy breaths, You suck in a quick breath when he pulls out, your cunt oversensitive from his relentless onslaught he laid into it. He smiles and leans down to kiss you sweetly, his hands caressing your sides.

You sit up after a few moments, noticing that Gaz had pulled your panties back in place. You grimace and sigh when you feel him leaking out of you, which is bound to get the seat of your pants wet. You hoped at least you’d be able to escape somewhere to change soon.

“Are you satisfied now?” You grumble, sliding off the table and attempting to hide the way your legs were shaking. He just chuckles, kissing you on the cheek with a smile on his lips. “I am. At least until later tonight.” He plants another kiss behind your ear. “Thank you, love.”

You roll your eyes and playfully push him away, smoothing down your sweater and pulling your cargo pants back up, but not before Gaz grabs a handful of your ass and squeezes. He laughs when you squeak and swat his hand away, your cheeks puffed as you frown. “Stop that! And put your dick away, they're bound to come back in here any minute now.”

He does as you ask and tucks his softening cock away, zipping up his trousers. “Looking forward to later tonight, sweetheart,” he says with a cheeky little grin.

Soap leans against the wall next to the door to their makeshift briefing room, chuckling quietly to himself. Ghost and Price were less than amused, but they could at least acknowledge the absurdity of the situation. They left for five minutes and you and Gaz managed to get into each other’s pants within that short span of time.

“Remind me why we aren’t going back inside?” Ghost grumbles, arms crossed. Price shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m not interested in seeing my sergeants shagging like dogs in heat, Simon.”

Soap hides a louder laugh behind his fist, taking a second to compose himself. “Come on, L.T., no need to ruin their fun.” He barely held back the overpowering urge to reach over a few inches and jiggle the door handle just to spook the two of you. Just barely. Ghost rolls his eyes. “Should’ve picked a better time to have their fun, then.” He huffs.

“It’ll be fine. I can tell them off later.” Price chuckles at Ghost’s drawn out, dramatic sigh and patiently waits for the sound of squealing table legs to quiet down.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

[munsonkitten]

steddie smut | read the tags first | 6400 words choking, spanking, sub eddie, masochist eddie (slightly), dom steve, coming in pants 5+1, play fighting, dry humping, nipple play

1. 

Eddie’s not really used to this.

He’s never really had friends his own age. His band and Hellfire are all younger than him, Rick and his friends are all older. It’s been difficult to get close to anyone, when everyone his age has thought of him as a freak since he moved to town. 

All of that, plus his new friend being Steve, put Eddie in some situations he never really thought he’d be in. Situations that he, maybe, dreamed of one day being in, but not really like this. 

Pinned under Steve Harrington with his wrists held down to the ground above his head. Yeah, he’s thought of that, but not… 

Not the part where they’re apparently wrestling.  

Eddie doesn’t remember why this started. One second he was on the couch and the next he was on the floor, and something probably happened in between there, but he doesn’t really know what. His brain is kind of fuzzy, the memories clouded by the fact that Steve Harrington is currently sitting on top of him.

He tries, though not very hard, to roll Steve off of him. He probably could, honestly, but there’s something about this that makes his limbs heavy, and yeah, Steve feels good on top of him. Warm and solid, and it’s kind of Eddie’s dream to be underneath him, so sue him for his efforts being minimal here. 

It’s just that he should probably try a little bit harder to get Steve off of him because Eddie’s very close to sporting a little problem. Steve’s ass is pressed right to Eddie’s crotch, and he’s just laughing. He’s holding Eddie down and he’s laughing about it, like he’s won some prize here by beating him, even if Eddie doesn't remember why they’re wrestling to begin with. 

“Okay, okay, that’s—” Eddie starts. 

Steve shifts in his lap, and oh god that’s — okay, Steve needs to move now or he’s going to notice how hard Eddie is, and then Eddie needs to run to the bathroom before Steve sees or he’ll punch Eddie in the face, probably, and—

He shifts again. Steve shifts again and then his entire face changes, and he’s leaning over Eddie, hands still pinning Eddie’s wrists to the ground, and Eddie has no idea why Steve isn’t getting up. 

“Are the rumors true?” Steve asks.

Eddie wishes he could hide his face behind his hands, hide the heat blooming on his cheeks. 

He doesn’t answer. 

“The rumors that Eddie Munson has a thing for me?” Steve continues. 

“Where did you hear that rumor?” Eddie blurts out. Yeah, sure, people have called him a faggot for longer than he’s known it himself, but his crush on Steve has been as tightly under wraps as it could possibly be. 

Maybe not. 

“We had gym class together my senior year,” Steve says, leaning down to whisper right in Eddie’s ear. “All the boys said you looked at me in the locker room.”

Eddie feels like he might die right about now. Of shame, embarrassment, anxiety that the entire male population of Hawkins high school knows he’s got a raging hard on for Steve Harrington. 

“They said you’d look at my dick,” Steve continues. “Like you wanted me. But I never believed them because why would Eddie want me? I was everything you hated back then.”

“No,” Eddie says. “No, you weren’t. You were — beautiful. You are. W-who told you all that?”

Steve laughs quietly, brushing his nose against Eddie’s ear. “No one. I made it up.”

Eddie wrenches himself out of Steve’s hands and shoves him off. “Fuck you, man!”

But he’s laughing, head falling into his hands as he sits up. 

“Hey, I got what I was looking for,” Steve says. “You’ve totally got a thing for me.”

“Shut up,” Eddie mutters. 

“No, no,” Steve says. “No, it’s cute. I — well, I’d been hoping. Didn’t know how to bring it up.”

Eddie’s head snaps back up. Steve’s just sitting there on his knees watching him, waiting. 

So Eddie throws himself at Steve, wrestling him back to the ground, laughter bubbling out of his lips because he can’t believe Steve just said that. I’d been hoping. It can’t be real, but — but Steve’s laughing too, something sweet, chiming like bells in Eddie’s ears, and his hands are squeezing Eddie’s hips and pulling him down against him. 

The feeling of Steve against him, his thigh between Eddie’s legs, it has him going fuzzy again. Warm and tingling, spreading through his entire body. 

Steve flips them while Eddie’s distracted, pushing his hands back up on the floor, pinned beneath his wrists. 

“You mean it?” Eddie asks. 

Steve bends down, nosing along Eddie’s cheek, and whispers, “Yeah. I mean it.”

He grinds down against Eddie, their dicks pressing together. Steve’s just as hard as he is, he notices now. It’s too good, too hot, and Eddie drops his head heavy on the floor and moans, loud and uninhibited because he’s never felt another person’s body against his own, and he can’t contain it at all. 

“A-and you want this?” Eddie asks. “With me?”

“Mhm,” Steve hums. He pulls his hands away from Eddie’s wrists and whispers a quiet, “Stay,” in Eddie’s ear. 

Eddie wouldn’t dream of doing anything else. 

“Good boy,” Steve murmurs.

It goes straight to his dick, making him buck up against Steve’s body. He can’t believe any of this is real, that any of this is happening. He wants to pinch himself to make sure he isn’t dreaming, but he has to leave his hands where they are. Steve told him to, and Eddie needs to be good for him. 

Steve shifts, his hands going to Eddie’s thighs to spread them apart, and Eddie whines. He fucking whines over Steve’s big hands moving his legs into position, spreading them so Steve can fit between them, slotting their bodies together. 

“This okay?” Steve asks. 

Eddie nods quickly. Of course it’s okay. It’s beyond okay. It’s everything. 

Their dicks press together through their jeans again, and Eddie brings his knees up, squeezing them around Steve’s sides. He hooks his ankles behind Steve’s back, and he wants to wrap his arms around his neck, but Steve told him to stay so he is. 

Steve thrusts against him, his head dipping to press his lips against Eddie’s neck. 

This isn’t going to last long at all, not with Steve thrusting and grinding like he’s fucking Eddie through their jeans. Eddie’s never done anything with anyone, and now he’s beneath the man of all of his wet dreams, and he’s hurtling toward the edge embarrassingly fast. 

“Steve,” he moans. “I’m gonna — Steve.” 

“Okay, okay,” Steve whispers. “That’s alright, baby, go ahead. Just like this. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

“N-not in — this is my last pair of clean underwear,” Eddie pants, bucking his hips up against Steve’s body, rutting himself hard and fast against Steve’s dick.

Steve chuckles against his neck. “Want me to stop?”

“No,” Eddie rushes out. “Don’t stop. Don’t stop.”

Steve laughs again, lifts his head ahead from Eddie’s throat and looks down at him. “Cum for me, baby. C’mon.”

Eddie needs more. He wants his pants off, wants to feel skin on skin, but he doesn’t want to go through the effort. He doesn’t want to move his hands from where Steve placed them and told him to stay. 

He wants — 

“Kiss me,” Eddie pants. “Please. Stevie, I want —”

Steve cuts him off with a kiss, soft and gentle, and Eddie  has nothing to compare it to but he thinks it might be the best kiss in the history of the world because it’s him and Steve. Eddie can’t keep his hands in place anymore, has to move them to cup Steve’s cheeks as he moans into the kiss, his hips twitching one more time before the tension snaps and he shakes apart completely, coming in his pants. 

He cries out, legs tightening around Steve’s waist, arms sliding to wrap around his shoulders. His dick throbs and twitches in his underwear, making a mess that Steve keeps driving himself down into, leaving Eddie wet and oversensitive, and then — Steve stops. 

He pulls away, hands flying to his zipper. He draws his cock out of his underwear, hard and leaking and red, and Eddie watches. He watches as Steve quickly strokes his cock, quiet moans falling from his lips. His eyes shut, his head tipping back, and with a moan he cums all over his hand, spilling over onto Eddie’s stomach where his shirt has ridden up. 

It might be the hottest thing Eddie’s ever seen. 

He suddenly feels self conscious about not lasting long enough to get his dick out. He starts to become completely aware of the mess crusting in his pubes, Steve’s mess on his stomach. 

“Shit,” Steve pants. “Sorry. Let me — I’ll clean you up. C’mon.”

Steve makes good on that promise. He takes Eddie to the bathroom and strips him out of his clothes, then takes off his own. He pulls him into the shower, helps scrub Eddie down. The shift in their friendship is immediate. If it can even be called a friendship anymore. 

That’s just the start of it. 

2. 

It happens again a few days later. 

Not the whole wrestling part of it, no, because apparently Steve was just using that as an excuse to be close to Eddie, and now he doesn’t need an excuse. No, Eddie cums in his pants again a few days later, his hips grinding against Steve’s while they make out in Steve’s bed. 

It’s embarrassing, really, how quick it happens. One second they’re laying side by side, the next Steve’s on top of him asking if he can kiss him, and Eddie’s sitting there like no shit because all he ever wants to do now is kiss Steve. It’s kind of a problem how much he likes kissing Steve. 

Steve barely has to touch him, barely has to slide his dick against Eddie’s through their jeans, and Eddie’s rock hard and throbbing in his boxers. 

And it happens so quick because, when Eddie tries to stifle a moan into Steve’s neck, Steve pulls back and says, “C’mon, baby, let me hear you,” and then whispers, “Good boy,” when Eddie tips his head back and lets sounds fall from his lips. 

It’s like those three words in close proximity to each other flip a switch in Eddie’s brain and cock. Baby, good boy. It’s fucking embarrassing, is what it is. 

He cums just like that, hips bucking against Steve’s, mouth open with his moans spilling out. 

“Jesus, Eddie,” Steve chuckles, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Did you just…?”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Hey, no that’s — don’t apologize,” Steve says. He pulls away, rolling over to the side.

He doesn’t make any attempt to get his dick out, just lays there pressing lazy kisses to Eddie’s lips.

Eventually, Steve finds a pair of underwear and some sweatpants for Eddie to change into and they settle into Steve’s bed again. They’ve only been together for a few days, but they’ve been friends for months. Their routine is pretty established at this point — get into pajamas and lay in Steve’s bed listening to music or reading or talking. 

Now, though, Steve pulls Eddie against him, plays with his hair while Eddie rests his head on his chest. 

Read the rest of this 5+1 on AO3

[redemn]

＊ 𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐌 / 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐍 . ＊ independent , selective , private . ː 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐧 from rockstar's 𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 ➁ . penned by kat , she/her , 28. a study in ː the reclamation of the self , preservation of the moral code in sedition , and the perpetuation of circumstantial change .

i  always  knew  you  had  to  be  willin'  to  die  to  even  do  this  job  .      but  ,      i  don't  want  to  push  my  chips  forward  and  go  out  and  meet  somethin'  i  don't  understand  .      a  man  would  have  to  put  his  soul  at  hazard  .      he'd  have  to  say  :      '  o.k.,      i'll  be  part  of  this  world  .  '

⁰¹⋆ carrd. ⁰²⋆ pinterest. ⁰³⋆ spotify. ⁰⁴⋆ prompts. ⁰⁵⋆ hcs. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⁰⁶⋆ tyler owens. ( if i'm not here , i'm there )

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤtruncated rules under the cut.

⁰¹⋆   on followers + following .   no minors please .   in fact ,   i'd be more comfortable with people over the age of 21 due to my own age .   i am not interested in keeping a large following of people i do not interact with ,   or who do not at least like my posts every once in a while .   whenever i'm on the dash ,   i try to do the same courtesy .   also ,   sometimes i don't keep up with developments in the rpc ,   so if you ever see me interacting with anyone who has been proven to be problematic in the past or even recently ,   please let me know so that i can cut it off .

⁰²⋆   on shipping .   like everyone ,   i love shipping ,   but i'm not someone wants to jump into it without proper development beforehand .   i prioritise and often populate my blogs with primarily platonic or non-ship-oriented threads .   i practice ship exclusivity ,   which means i will only ship with one version of a character ,   and i expect the same courtesy .   if your muse ships with another arthur ,   unless you are a very very close friend ,   i will not ship him with that muse ,   period .   [ … ]   on a related note ,   please don't ask to write smut if we barely know each other and / or haven't written any "regular" threads together .   i do write smut with those i ship with ,   mostly on discord ,   but pwp doesn't interest me at all ,   so save us both time and don't ask .   i'd write 10 fluff threads over a smut thread any day . my thoughts on the matter . i am also not open to shipping if we don't at least write threads on here . again , i am not interested in immediately shipping if we don't have something built up first , and it makes me feel like people don't appreciate it if they don't at least try to answer asks that i send or write some form of thread on here .

⁰³⋆   IMPORTANT .   i understand that arthur is a canon character and everyone's interpretations of him are different . but please do not impose what you think arthur would do or how he would react on my interpretation . please also do not try to ship without first plotting out a thorough friendship between them , because both i and arthur need chemistry in order for that to work . otherwise i personally will not be invested . arthur is demisexual and won't form any sexual attraction for anyone until he has a strong connection with them , and no , just saying "they've been friends" is not good enough for me .

⁰⁴⋆   on content .   triggering content will be present on this blog ,   due to the nature of the game and my own writing .   i tag all my triggers with "trigger //" for reference . most importantly , there will be mentions of terminal illness // here .

⁰⁵⋆   on activity .   i work a full time job ,   monday-friday .   please respect that in regards to my activity .   my other blog is penddraig .   hi .    :)

⁰⁶⋆   if you could like this post after reading my rules ,   i would appreciate it .   this is not mandatory ,   for those of you who are anxious about it .   i just like knowing and i like a little interaction .   i hope my rules don't sound too harsh to all of you .   i promise i'm not mean !!   i'm just old ,   i've been in the rpc for a long time ,   and want to nip issues i've encountered in the bud before they start .

[ashedink]

A Vulture In Therapy

It’s Never Been About Death (But It Is All I Think About)

-

The hospital was like a labyrinth. I remember having an anxiety attack the first time I went to inpatient therapy here, and the nurses who were talking to me were absolutely useless. They sent me to the wrong floor and were really pushy and suffocating even as I was starting to twitch and cry and hyperventilate.

Now I wore the same sticker tag every day and knew the route. Why did it require two different elevators to get to this floor? I have no clue. I didn’t build it.

My therapist and psychiatrist both wanted me to attend inpatient therapy, saying that it might help me develop some healthier coping strategies, and determine if further treatment would be worth pursuing. I think they were worried about how my suggestion for treatment overlapped with my obsession with death. People get concerned when I talk about how often I think about death. I have to reassure people over and over again that I don’t want to die. It’s a macabre and spiritual fascination. The historical, chemical, spiritual, emotional, and biological process fascinate me. Everything dies. It's one thing all of us animals of planet earth truly have in common.

And death feeds life. That has been the case almost since life has been.

Today was my next to last day. It helped to see other people who were struggling like me, especially when we helped each other with wisdom for our own lives. I made some friends I would never see again. I shared some good moments and some uncomfortable ones. Today was going to show them this other side of me, though.

Today we also ended up, intentionally or otherwise, with death as the main topic of discussion.

When you live in the south it’s hard to find anything that is secular. Even things explicitly said to be secular make sure that there is all the space for religious talk that people could possibly want. I mean I suppose it’s fair, we were talking about death and many people process death through religion.

Still, people kept trying to include me specifically in their religious talk, so when it was my time to speak…

Well…

“I’m not a religious person.”

Several people’s faces got awkward as they realized they had been trying to rope what they assumed was the only atheist in the zipcode into their church talk.

“I am spiritual though. I think about death a lot. I never learned how to mourn correctly. My family tried to hide death from me. I was never allowed to feel or express negative emotions, so even when someone died, I didn’t know how to cry anymore. I would just go numb. Besides, other people around me needed me, and I have a chronic need to be there for other people when they need me. I am a person who can reschedule grief. A month or two months or three would pass and then suddenly that grief would come knocking. My grandmother passed last year. It took me two months of time and three solid days alone to break down and cry.”

I tastefully edited out that the bourbon helped too, because two of the people there were recovering alcoholics.

“To me, the vulture is a sacred animal.”

I held up the painting I’d worked on during art therapy. It was of a swarm of black birds ascending into the sky. I know it looked grim and ominous to other people, but as I talked I could see them begin to understand.

“It doesn’t waste. I love scavengers in general. Creatures that take up the unwanted or lost. I see vultures and I see the grim cleaners of the world. Many people don’t see the value of the scavenger, but we’re far better off with them in it than without. Did you know that in areas with low vulture populations, rabies is more common? This is because without flocks of vultures to break down carcasses quickly, they are instead visited by feral dogs, coyotes, foxes, racoons, and many other mostly mammalian opportunist. This makes carcasses a disease vector. Parasites and disease can spread from conflicts over a carcass,” I realized I was beginning to overshare one of my hyperfixations. Time to wrap it up. “They rarely kill. They consume the rotten and undesirable. They prevent disease. I love seeing them because to me they are not just symbols of death, they’re life. There is no real death here, only the cycle of life reusing its building blocks to make more life. I don’t want to be embalmed when I die. I want to be put in the earth to rot, that way the molecules that make up my body can be where they belong. Everywhere. Death as a continuation of life. Everything that consumes me, I will be.”

I was used to creeping people out. The room was quiet for a bit, digesting the condensed documentary I had just unloaded on them, punctuated with my funeral plans.

What do you see when you look at me? I don’t look like a monster, not until you interact with me. My way of talking has never been quite human. I am physically the human animal. I don’t like that many humans don’t see themselves as animals. We are. We’ve tricked ourselves into thinking we aren’t, that we are something separated from the animals and plants and dirt, and that’s not healthy.

So I refuse to act. It unsettles people.

I am an animal of the dirt and sky and rain.

I just happen to wear human skin.

The conversation moved on.

The day’s session came to a close.

There was a new respect for vultures in that room. I walked away feeling lighter in mind and body. I stood on the 3rd floor of the parking garage and looked out over the streets.

I opened discord on my phone and scrolled back through a conversation with a friend.

-

tigergirltail - 06/06/2024 9:50 AM

Maybe wanting to be a therian is a symptom of being a therian. It didn't occur to me until last night that wanting to have the dreams was a sign.

ashedink 06/06/2024 9:51 AM

That’s a good point.

Kinda like how some people figure out they’re trans, not because of a presence of gender dysphoria, but by the absence of gender euphoria.

tigergirltail - 06/06/2024 9:55 AM

Wanting it is that first symptom.

Yeah, literally how I awakened.

-

We’ve been friends for so long, and we’re still finding new bridges to cross together.

Maybe I will follow you over this one too, if my therapist is satisfied with how inpatient therapy went.

Is it arrogant to try to become that which I hold in such high spiritual regard? Maybe that’s just human greed want it. There is no dysphoria here, I simply exist as I am regardless of my vessel.

But maybe I should try it. Maybe euphoria is waiting for me in an unexpected shape.

I mean, I’ll be an animal either way.

Maybe I'll be a happy animal.

[enigmaticexplorer]

I Yearn, and so I Fear - Part III - Chapter XVII

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers. 

Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC

General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.

Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.

Chapter Word Count. 5.6K

Beta. @/starstofillmydream

"If we want the rewards of being loved, we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known." – Tim Kreider

25 Yelona

Mistrust was rampant among the locals of Hollow’s Town. Harried expressions, quickened paces, wary looks. Even the groups of parents outside Hollow’s Schooling One were quieter, more strained. Darted eyes and guarded comments spoke of their suspicion. 

A people who prided themselves on their steadfast loyalty were starting to doubt one another.

It began with the executions. 

Three workers in the Security Institute—two men and a woman—were charged of espionage and intentional fearmongering. They were executed in the capital. Kazi, along with hundreds of other government employees, was forced to watch. 

The attempt to exert control over Eluca’s disgruntled population didn’t surprise her. The easiest way to ruin centuries’ worth of loyalty—the easiest way to destroy a people’s faith in one another—was to subtly turn them against their neighbors. 

The executions were the first step. Questions of who outed the three perpetrators whispered among the locals.

Who could people trust? 

Who would die next?

As horrific as the Empire was, its leaders knew how to play politics. And how to secure the control they desired. Eluca was only one of its many victims. 

From the bench she and Carinthia sat upon, Kazi assessed their surroundings. A childless swing drifted in the wind; parents stood apart from one another, staring at Hollow’s Schooling One’s doors as they waited for school to end. The shade from the building shielded her and Carinthia from most eyes.

“Were they members of the network?” Kazi asked quietly.

“They were under different leadership,” Carinthia said. The diplomatic approach in her tone matched her casual appearance. They could be discussing the weather for all the emotion Carinthia displayed. “Allies of the network, but, technically, not ours.”

The technicality did nothing to assuage the uncertainties wrestling in her stomach.

After another sweep of the empty playground, Kazi scrubbed her arm. “I thought Fehr was going to meet me.”

“She and Bash were called to a meeting.” Carinthia hesitated. “Command was caught unaware by the Empire’s arrival. They’re reassessing other planets where they have a stronger presence.”

Kazi loosed a bitter laugh. “Why aren’t they trying to get their members off Eluca? Don’t our lives matter?”

Icy blue eyes met hers, narrowed in reproach. “We all knew the risks when we accepted our jobs.”

“So that’s it?” She fisted her hands in her lap. “We keep working for the network? Even though the Empire is here?”

Dismissal exaggerated Carinthia’s shrug. “We have even more reason to see things through.” 

At her belligerent scoff, Carinthia threw her a warning look, mustering a pleasant smile for any observers. A smile that stretched the skin across her cheeks unnaturally. Now that Kazi was looking closer, Carinthia seemed bonier. Unhealthily thinner. 

“I need an update on the past week,” Carinthia said. “What have you seen? How is the Empire behaving? Has the magistrate contacted you?”

Gritting her teeth, Kazi leaned back against the school’s wall, the stone cool through her clothes. 

Too much had happened within a short amount of time. Her kiss with Wolffe. The men’s immediate departure. Days of long hours spent with Imperial officers. Her sleep was disturbed, and her work exhausting, and the unknown of the Empire’s arrival stressful. It was all piling on her shoulders. A net of worries and unease digging into her skin and dragging her down.

“What’s going to happen?” Daria had asked the night the Empire arrived. Her sister’s eyes were wide; the hand clasping the front pieces of her robe shook. 

For a moment, Kazi was too shocked by Daria’s reaction to respond. 

Sometimes she forgot Daria had lived through the Purge. Sometimes she forgot Daria had run through the streets of Ceaia’s capital. Sometimes she forgot Daria had crammed into a tight, dark compartment alongside her as their oxygen slowly dissipated. 

Sometimes she forgot Daria, too, had thought they wouldn’t make it, her muttered prayers echoes of the ones in Kazi’s mind.

“The Empire’s here, but we’re okay,” Kazi said. Doubt pursed Daria’s mouth and Kazi gripped her sister’s hand. “Cody’s informant said the Empire is here to take over the mines—they’ve been doing this for months. Eluca wasn’t a random choice.”

“This isn’t a second Purge?” Daria whispered.

“No.” The bookcase swung forward, revealing Wolffe and Cody outfitted in their armor, bags hung from their shoulders. Kazi swallowed, returning her attention to Daria. “We’re going to be okay. I promise.”

The relief in Daria’s face, the trust in the squeeze of her hand, furthered Kazi’s disquiet. She could only hope her assumptions—and Cody’s information—proved true. 

A few minutes later and Wolffe stood before her, his gaze hard and searching. Promise lined the lowness of his tone as he murmured, “We’ll talk when I return.”

The brush of a knuckle to her cheek, a lingering look from the doorway, and then Wolffe and Cody were gone, set to meet another clone, Rex, to assess the threat of the Empire’s arrival. 

Fox and Nova had stayed behind. A surprise considering Fox’s initial demand to go with the other two commanders. Whatever Wolffe had said to him in private—whatever Wolffe had said to convince him to stay—was a mystery to Kazi. 

Wolffe’s departure—his sudden absence after such a…vulnerable moment—bothered her late into the night. A cramp in her chest she couldn’t ease, no matter how hard she rubbed at it. 

She could comm him. But…she wouldn’t. No matter what happened between them, if anything, she knew she never would. A relic of fear from—

Well, it didn’t matter. 

Wolffe and Cody left Eluca just in time. Frequencies were jammed the following day. The spaceports closed—all interplanetary and intraplanetary travel was prohibited—and remained closed for two more days. Only after the third day did the comm tower reopen. 

Each night for the last four days, Kazi had updated Fox and Nova with news from the Security Institute. 

Their conversations lasted late into the night, the early hours of evening dedicated to dinner, though the table felt more spacious without Wolffe and Cody. Her information was minimal, and the Imperial officers infiltrating the Institute’s forces were tight-lipped. They expected their orders to be obeyed without question or hesitation. But Fox and Nova listened to her updates regardless. Quiet and intent. 

“They need minerals,” Nova mused, setting aside his quilt. Its design was clearer: an amber expanse with black lines stamped into columns. A memorial, Kazi guessed. “But there are dozens of other planets they already control.”

“A specific mineral, then,” Fox said.

“Eluca’s mines aren’t special,” Kazi said. “You can find doonium and hfredium almost anywhere.”

“Mineral shortage,” Fox offered.

Nova shook his head. “We would know about it.”

“Doonium and hfredium are used for spaceship construction.” Fox scratched his chin with his stylus, the book he was writing in abandoned the moment Kazi entered the sunroom. “The military could be contracting new Star Destroyers.”

“Could be.” Nova didn’t look convinced. “Or a weapon.”

Kazi frowned. “What weapon would the Empire need? They already control most of the galaxy.”

“You should be asking,” Fox said darkly, “what weapon does the Empire need to maintain its control?”

Their musings led to repetitive conversations and headaches. Nothing more. 

“Magistrate Aro has been busy,” Kazi informed Carinthia, sliding her hands beneath her thighs. “We had a ceremony welcoming Imperial overlords. Afterwards, he told me I’ll be receiving more data to continue my research on clone disappearances. That was it.”

Carinthia nodded thoughtfully. “Your job will be even more important now. You’ll have access to Imperial codes and data that we can use—”

“No.” 

“No?” Carinthia repeated, an edge to her tone.

“Do you even hear yourself?” Kazi glared her incredulity. “You want me to access Imperial data and codes. Do you know how much of a risk that is? This isn’t some simple-minded government, Carinthia. This is the fucking Empire.”

“I’m well aware of who we’re dealing with. Mind your features.”

Forcing her shoulders to relax, Kazi neutralized her expression. But her heart was beating faster; fear, cold and oily, slithered beneath her skin. She pressed her fingers into the metal of the bench. Pressed them hard enough the pain dulled some of her mounting malaise.

“You’re in a position we can capitalize on,” Carinthia said calmly. 

“I’m not taking this risk,” Kazi replied just as calmly. “I have a youngling and a sister I’m responsible for. I won’t risk their lives for your network.”

Glancing at the sky, Carinthia eyed the gathering clouds. “So long as the Empire remains in power, your family isn’t safe.”

“And how can I protect them if I’m in Imperial custody?” Kazi demanded. “Or dead?” 

“It’s better to live under slavery, then?”

“Of course not.” She levelled Carinthia with a reproving scowl. “But I have people who need me. I can’t abandon them for a cause that’s unorganized and lacking genuine leadership. A cause that doesn’t even have a cohesive goal.”

Carinthia waved a dismissive hand. “We have a goal: to reinstate the Republic.”

“Not everyone subscribes to that goal. The rebellion is too vast and disorganized. It’s ineffectual.”

“It will organize. It will become an effective opponent that will threaten the Empire’s authority. We simply need people to do their jobs—”

“I won’t do this,” Kazi said firmly. “You may be called to a higher purpose in this rebellion, but I’m not. I’m doing what I can with what I have. That will have to be enough.”

“If every person in this galaxy thinks along those lines, the Empire will reign forever.” Carinthia’s smile was patronizing. “You will do as ordered—”

“I’ll do what I can. But I won’t unnecessarily risk my life.” She held Carinthia’s glare. “Anyway, according to your negotiations with the men, they approve the work I’m given. I’ll leave it up to them.”

Carinthia laughed. “Are you so naïve to believe the clones have any power against the network?”

“Threaten the men, Carinthia,” Kazi said slowly, harshly, “and your network will regret it.”

“They’re not a concern of ours.”

“Not them.” Kazi surveyed the woman beside her, her fellow rebel. “You forget that I have information. Information that can cause serious damage.”

Disdain curled Carinthia’s upper lip. “You would risk all that we have built for the lives of a few men?”

“Betray them, hurt them, do anything that endangers them”—she paused, her voice deceptively soft—“and you’ll find out.”

The school bell hummed; the front doors opened. Younglings of various ages ran out. 

Usually the students would sprint for the playground, their parents busied by conversations while they hefted their child’s packs. Today, like the three days before, the playground remained empty. Parents ushered their children to parked aircars or hurried toward the neighborhood paths. 

Kazi stood and scanned the front doors for Neyti. Beside her, Carinthia regained her feet, wiping a hand down her dark, ratted trousers. 

“I didn’t expect this from you,” Carinthia murmured, her gaze sharper than an icepick. 

“You’re interfering with my family.” Kazi arched an eyebrow. “What did you expect?”

“I thought you, of all people, would understand the need for vengeance,” Carinthia said disbelievingly. “Your planet—your people—were murdered by the Empire, and yet you choose to do nothing. You’re lucky to even have a choice.”

“Don’t bring my people into this,” Kazi snapped. “I’m doing what I think is best for my kid and my sister. You, of all people, should understand that.”

Startled, Carinthia stumbled back a step, her face paling. More younglings emerged from the school and she lifted her chin, her lips pursing. “Passivity will get us all killed.”

“It’s a good thing we have people like you,” Kazi murmured sarcastically, “willing to sacrifice themselves.”

“It’s for the greater good.”

“That may be so, but the greater good for Neyti is my being alive. The greater good for my sister is me.”

“You’re a coward,” Carinthia spat.

“If it’s cowardly to choose them over the rebellion”—Kazi shrugged—“then I can bear that.”

They observed one another for a long moment. Sniffing, Carinthia turned on her heel and striding away. Her perfunctory gait and inconspicuous clothing allowed her to blend into the crowd. Another ant among the anthill. 

A flutter of pastel pink caught her attention and Kazi waved at Neyti. The little girl broke into a smile, waving shyly, and then faced the girl beside her, offering her a flimsisheet. Kazi’s eyes widened as she recognized the girl. It was Steiner. The girl who once shared her cookie with Neyti. 

Steiner accepted the flimsi and mimed something to Neyti. Neyti nodded and—

Kazi blinked. Her eyes narrowed. She could have sworn…well, she could have sworn she saw Neyti’s mouth moving. Just a glimpse. Ephemeral in its unconfirmed existence. 

The moment passed and Steiner strolled toward the closest walkway. Neither of her parents were present. Odd since Heracli always retrieved her. 

Shaking the thought away, Kazi smiled as Neyti hurried over.

“Good day?” Kazi asked.

Neyti nodded, grabbing her hand. It was new—the hand holding—and Kazi squeezed Neyti’s fingers a little tighter, swinging their arms as they started for the aircar. 

The temperature cooled; the clouds swarmed the sun, their darkness a quick exhale, snuffing Eluca of light.

Once they were far enough away from prying ears, Kazi said gently, “We have therapy today.” 

An unhappy glower pinched Neyti’s face and she reached for her necklace, fiddling with the dragon pendant. 

Kazi offered her a consoling smile. “I know. But I was thinking we could go hiking tonight after dinner. We could even stargaze.”  

They both had tomorrow off, from work and school, and Kazi thought it only fair that Neyti could stay up past her bedtime. And she surmised stargazing would distract the girl from Wolffe and Cody’s absence. She added, “Mr. Nova said you can use his telescope.”

Neyti’s eyes widened. She nodded eagerly. 

Chuckling, Kazi gripped Neyti’s hand tighter and increased their pace, a drizzle speckling their hair and clothes. But in the silence between woman and youngling, the silence before the encroaching storm, Kazi found herself repeating the conversation with Carinthia. Repeating Carinthia’s accusations. 

Your planet—your people—were murdered by the Empire, and yet you choose to do nothing.

If every person in this galaxy thinks along those lines, the Empire will reign forever.

People were suffering, and the Empire was growing, and the rebel network was one of the few oppositions resisting the Empire’s steady expansion. 

The network wasn’t true opposition, though. Not yet. The rebels believed, over time, the network would strengthen and expand. A flame catching, spreading. That its fury would burn across the galaxy and destroy everything the Empire upheld.

However, Kazi understood politics. She knew a behemoth—militaristically adept and politically cutthroat—was resilient. It would take years and thousands, if not millions, billions, of lives to achieve. 

Sacrifice, both willing and involuntary, was required.

And rebellion didn’t guarantee freedom, or safety, or peace. 

Who knew if the replacement government would dismantle the Empire’s malfeasance. 

Who knew if the network’s leaders would serve the people better. 

Who knew if the network’s leadership could resist the corruption of power. The corruption so easily overlooked, a cancerous cell that seemed unharmful until it was too late, its destruction irreversible. Unmendable. 

Politics was a game, rebellion its gamble. 

Was it her moral duty to sacrifice herself in an attempt to strengthen a possible opposition to the Empire? 

Was it selfish of her to want to live? 

Was it pathetic and reprehensible of her to choose life under the Empire rather than outright defy it?

A squeeze in her palm pulled her away from her musings and she glanced down at Neyti. A tiny frown wrinkled the little girl’s eyebrows. 

“I’m okay,” Kazi said, mustering a small smile. 

Neyti considered her for a moment and then leaned into her, resting her forehead against Kazi’s hip, her eyes closing. And as Kazi rested a hand atop Neyti’s hair, she knew she was a coward for wanting to preserve her life. 

But, if it meant providing Neyti a semblance of normality, then she didn’t care. 

She’d been running the majority of her life, anyway. What difference did it make now?

Hushed voices tickled her mind.

Music, an unintentional harmony to the quiet whispers, hummed. 

Her eyelashes fluttered.

Moonlight, soft and soporific, caressed the living area, a slumbering entity encouraging her to sleep.

Shadows, friendly tonight, swathed a figure at the end of the couch. 

Through half-opened eyes, Kazi watched Wolffe. 

He was scooping Neyti into his arms, his movements slow, cautious as he tucked an arm beneath Neyti’s legs and the other beneath her shoulders. Neyti mumbled in her sleep and Wolffe tensed. Kazi stilled, too, holding her breath.

Quieting, Neyti relaxed and burrowed her face into Wolffe’s chest. He breathed a relieved exhale. Lifting Neyti from the couch, he strode for the staircase; the old steps’ sneaky creaks seemed to respect his hard-earned stealth. 

The moment the upstairs shadows claimed him, Kazi pushed herself to a seated position, glancing at the chrono. It was only a few minutes past midnight. She and Neyti must have fallen asleep during the holofilm, but Daria—

“Your sister went to her room.”

Tensing, Kazi settled her attention on Fox. One of the few detriments of cohabiting with soldiers: they were all skilled in stealth. 

Lounged in the cushioned chair he’d claimed at the beginning of the film, Fox concentrated on the piece of wood in his hand. The point of his knife slid along a wide curve. A shaving collapsed in his lap. 

“Cody went with her—”

“Okay.” 

Ignoring his amused silence, Kazi rubbed the bleariness from her eyes, shifting beneath the blanket she could have sworn Neyti was using throughout the film. 

“Thank you, by the way,” she said, motioning to the wood figurine. “I think Neyti will like it.”

Fox assessed his carving. “You gonna tell me why it’s so important?” 

“It’s tradition.” Fox threw her a bland look and she shrugged, yawning. “The carvings mean something different to each person. For some, the dragons represent adventure. For others, power. And even others, they represent prosperity or luck.”

Working a part of the dragon’s nose, Fox asked, “And for you?”

The slow stroke of the knife elongated the dragon’s snout, bringing forth an old memory: the day her father and mother took her to the Carver. 

The Carver was an older man, his skin darker than a stormy night and his beard frothy white. His eyes were gentle, twinkling with a thousand stories, and while his smile was peaceful, the lines on his face spoke of countless ventures at sea. 

He asked for her favorite myth. Sheepishly, she told him it was the story of Vaeloria, the dragon who first walked Ceaia’s land. For a long time, the Carver considered her, black eyes like the galaxy above, and then he winked. 

A week passed. 

Little Kazi returned to the Carver one last time. Expecting a replica of Vaeloria, she was shocked when the Carver placed a dragon—mid-flight, its hide a glittering black—into her outstretched hands. She recognized the dragon immediately. 

“The dragon is a creature of solitude,” the Carver told her. She stroked a finger along the dragon’s spine. “It spends hours amongst the stars, searching for one thing. Do you know what that is?”

Little Kazi shook her head.

The Carver tapped her dragon’s head knowingly. “Companionship.”

After all these years, Kazi never learned why the Carver bestowed on her the female dragon from the myth of the Dancing Dragons. And she never learned how he knew she was lying about Vaeloria. Then again, the Carvers were suspected mystics, seers of the galaxy’s wonders incomprehensible to most. 

Playing with a loose string from the gray sweater she was knitting before she fell asleep, Kazi stared at the dragon in Fox’s hands. 

“They represent protection. Security,” she said. A small smile hollowed her teeth. “Companionship.”

Another stroke of the knife, this time along the dragon’s jaw. “Have you reconsidered leaving?”

“We can’t.” The conversation was banal, by this point, and Kazi fought the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she folded the sweater in her lap, setting it on the floor. Her knitting needles hid the sweater’s motif. “Nothing has changed: Daria still needs a healer, and her medicine is too expensive to outsource. And Neyti is finally starting to adjust to life here. I can’t upend everything.”

She hadn’t bothered mentioning Neyti’s adoption application to Fox and Nova when they first discussed the men’s proposal. Not to mention the headache she would endure starting anew on some other backwater planet. 

“It doesn’t matter, anyway,” she said, ignoring Fox’s probing look. The look that claimed she was deflecting, lying about her real reasoning. “The Empire is everywhere.” 

Silence lapsed between them, and Kazi took advantage of the time, observing Fox’s work. Dedicated accuracy steadied his hand with each line he carved. Intense concentration stitched his brows together. It was the forced apathy in his features, though, that made her straighten. Her mouth dried. 

“You’re thinking about leaving,” she said, aghast.

The last few nights, when the conversation returned to the topic, the men hadn’t revealed their own plans. In hindsight, she was stupid to not consider the possibility. Or maybe it was foolish naivete—a pathetic hope they wouldn’t leave. Wolffe wouldn’t leave.

Fox rotated the piece of wood. “The Empire’s here. The spaceports and travel lanes close without warning. Frequencies are jammed without our knowledge. Eluca’s no longer a secure place.”

“Nowhere is safe. Really.” At Fox’s lack of response, she pursed her lips, squeezing the blanket. “You told me you want to settle down.”

“I did.” Fox eyed his carving. “But my brothers will always come first.”

“Your brothers are grown men capable of making decisions that concern their own lives.” She kept her voice quiet, composed, feigning nonchalance, even as her throat constricted. “Maybe you should consider being selfish, for once.”

Stilling, Fox lifted his gaze to hers. “Are you trying to convince yourself that?”

Unease breathed against the base of her spine, and she straightened. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I want my brothers to be happy.” Seriousness flattened his mouth, harshened his gaze, and then he pushed himself to his feet, looking her over. “Don’t hurt him.”

Quiet footfalls overlapped; the bookcase hissed open; it snapped shut; other footfalls neared and Kazi remained seated, waiting.

Wolffe rounded the couch and collapsed into its cushions. Exhaustion clung to his body: bruises beneath his eyes, deep lines harrying his forehead, an invisible weight slouching his shoulders. 

Kazi tilted her head to the side, studying him. “You’re debating if you should leave.” 

Wolffe frowned. Mismatched eyes met hers. “Do you think we should?”

“That’s not my decision to make,” she said tightly.

“I’m asking for your opinion.” Wolffe extended an arm behind the couch. Tentatively, he brushed aside a braid, his thumb stroking the nape of her neck. The touch was soft, gentle. A comfort she wanted to lean into—a comfort she refused. He asked, “Do you?”

She wanted him to stay. She wanted to be selfish and ask him to stay. 

But it wasn’t fair of her, and it wasn’t right, because she was far too attached and he deserved so much.

“That’s a decision for you and your brothers,” she said, rubbing at her chest. His thumb skimmed the side of her neck, so light and warm. Her eyelashes fluttered and she swallowed. “They’re the ones whose safety could be compromised.”

Wolffe scoffed. “I want to know what you think. Should we stay, Ennari?”

“It’s not my decision to make,” she repeated staunchly. “You have to do what you think is right, regardless of my opinion.”

The intensity of his stare was far too calculating, and the caress of his thumb to her neck far too intimate, and she wanted to pull away. She wanted to run far, far away. 

Because the longer he surveyed her, the more her heart started to shrivel at the logic behind Fox’s reasoning, and the more her insides started to wither at the possibility of losing Wolffe, and the more she wanted to ask him to stay. 

Wolffe rolled his shoulders back. “I meant everything I said that night. All of it.”

Yearning, so quiet and gentle, glowed within her. A tentative glow brushing the walls she had constructed for so many years; a warm glow seeping between the cracks that had evaded her. Cracks that existed because of the man seated beside her. 

“Tell me what you want,” Wolffe murmured. He leaned closer. His voice was lower, raspier as he said, “Tell me what you want from me.”

“I don’t want you to leave,” she whispered. The yearning grew, intangible yet persistent, unable—unwilling—to be ignored or locked away. “And I know I shouldn’t say that, and that I have no right to even want it, but the thought of you leaving…”

Looking away, Kazi gritted her teeth, massaging her chest. This was complicated, and she hated these feelings, and it was far easier to deflect. To place blame elsewhere rather than endure her emotions. 

“I don’t want to be some hookup, Wolffe.” She smiled grimly. “I don’t know if that’s what you expected from me, but it’s not something I’m interested in being.”

“I’m not looking for a hookup.” Reproach hardened his tone and she winced. “I’ve made my intentions obvious—” 

“I don’t know what this is between us,” she said. It was a pathetic display—a desperate plea for honesty and explanation and logic because she didn’t understand, and she didn’t want to make assumptions, and she wanted to be with him, but only if he wanted to be with her. “What do you want?”

For a time, Wolffe stared at her, hesitation working his jaw, a phantom stroke caressing her earlobe before returning to her neck. He cleared his throat. 

“I told you: I want to try things,” he said. His throat bobbed. “We can call it…courting.”

The reference to their conversation at the Harvest Festival, the reference to her culture, made her chuckle. And smile. And she settled deeper into the couch, amused.

However, Wolffe had grown rigid. A guarded expression shuttered his features and stiffened his shoulders. Her amusement subsided and she blinked, her face warming. “You’re being serious.”

“I was.” Two fingers tapped his thigh and he sighed. “I wanted to respect your culture.”

“I appreciate that,” she said quickly. “But courtship is…serious. There are expectations of permanency, and it’s not some word you can throw around. At least not in Ceaian culture.” 

In Reformist tradition, a courtship always ended in marriage. It was expected. Demanded. Wolffe didn’t know this, and while Kazi appreciated his consideration of her culture, the word was inaccurate to describe their situation. They were friends, and they were trying something new, and he could hardly make a decision on them—on her—this early. It was ridiculous to even consider.

“Some people think it’s archaic,” she added. 

Wolffe regarded her, his expression inscrutable. Scrubbing his jaw, he leaned back into the cushions. 

“Then choose a word you like,” he said tiredly. “I don’t care, so long as we’re together.”

A nod was her sole response, and Kazi glanced upstairs. Toward one of the closed doors.

“I’m worried about Neyti,” she admitted quietly, even though the rooms upstairs were soundproof.

They were in a precarious situation, and the consequences of their actions could be catastrophic for Neyti. The little girl trusted Wolffe. Cared for him. But what happened when Kazi and Wolffe separated? Would Wolffe…leave? His absence could destroy the normalcy and the confidence Neyti had grown over the last few months.

“We won’t tell her,” Wolffe said. The calm assuredness in his tone bordered amusement. “It’ll be our secret.”

“What about Daria?” Kazi shifted her attention to the second closed door upstairs. “I don’t want her to think…”

“No one else needs to be involved,” Wolffe said. “This is between you and me. The others can go fuck themselves.”

“Your brothers—”

“Will mind their own business.” 

“Your missions—”

“Will continue as normal.” Another light touch to her earlobe. “But I’m taking a step back. I will make time for you.”

“What about the Empire?” she whispered.

A muscle flexed in his jaw. “We’ll figure things out.”

He said it with such aplomb it was hard not to believe him. Hard not to trust him. But that meant—

“You’re not leaving?” she said, searching his gaze.

“It was never a question.”

“But Fox said—”

“Fox says things to test people’s reactions.” A fond chuckle succeeded his eye roll. “You’re hard to read. And he doesn’t like it. Which is why he talks to you.”

Kazi frowned at the bookcase. “I thought he talked to me because I’m a good conversationalist.” 

Wolffe barked a sharp laugh, mirth lightening the fatigue lining his features. And gods, his slight grin, the crinkles around his eyes, the way his thumb skimmed beneath her jawline, was enough to stifle her offense. Beneath the moonlight, at ease, he looked like he belonged in an oil painting—a preservation of man’s resilience.  

“Fox likes having information available,” Wolffe said, sobering. “You’re private. It stresses him out.”

“The same could be said about you.” Kazi moved her hand to his forearm, her fingers playing with the rolled sleeves of his shirt. “You like solving problems. Having things figured out. Do I stress you out?”

He ran his tongue along his teeth. “I don’t mind it.”

Quietly laughing, Kazi shifted her attention to his hand. Traced the lines of his palm. Examined old scars. The tension she’d ignored, the tension arcing from her thighs to her neck, finally settled. As if his reassurance was a rare balm her soul required. 

The revelation was unnerving and she frowned, chewing the inside of her cheek. She wasn’t supposed to rely on others for reassurance, or comfort, or…anything else. This effect he had on her was unusual, a feeling almost forgotten. 

It reminded her of her childhood. 

Those days when she and Daria were best friends who could rely on one another. The comfort of the ocean beyond her bedroom windows. The contentment of strolling the shore in the early morning. The sheer life she experienced out at sea, the wind in her hair and the breeze salty.

“You didn’t tell me it was your birth day.”

Kazi stilled. “How did you know?”

“Daria.” Wolffe shrugged unapologetically at her exasperated sigh, twisting his hand in hers. Carefully, slowly lacing their fingers together. “It’s today. Yeah?”

“Yes,” she said. Resting her head against the back of the couch, she stared at the ceiling. “But we call it life day. Bit of a misnomer, considering the galactic holiday.”

A low chuckle rumbled from Wolffe, and his fingers twitched around hers. Like he wanted to hold her tighter but feared he would crush her bones. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

The forced casualness in his tone made her grimace, and Kazi pressed her thigh against his. A consolation attempt. Maybe even an apology. It was late, and she was tired, and logic had abandoned her long ago, so she wasn’t entirely sure.

“I haven’t celebrated it in years. And I don’t like to,” she said. “Life day has always been a reminder that I’m getting older—it’s not something I like to dwell on.”

Wolffe cocked his head to the side. “You look good for your age.” 

Shaking her head, Kazi laughed, smiling at his half-grin.  

After a moment, though, curiosity replaced his teasing countenance, and, gently, he asked, “What’s wrong with aging?” 

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” she said, dropping her gaze to their hands. Her thumb grazed his, unhurried in its intent. “But…age has always been a signifier of things I was supposed to accomplish.” 

Proposal. Marriage. House. Children. 

“I stopped caring about those things,” she continued, “but each life day still feels like a doomsday clock. Like I haven’t achieved anything of significance and I’m falling behind.” She peered into his face. The blue moonlight scumbled his cybernetic eye. “Do you…celebrate birth days?” 

“No. But I consider aging an achievement.” Wolffe flattened the back of her palm to his thigh. His eyes sought hers. Soft with understanding. Soft with regret. “I lost a lot of men. Many who wanted to survive the War. I…owe it to them to appreciate this.”  

Wolffe tilted his head back, his gaze swallowing hers. In the silence that followed, the music still humming, she scrutinized him: open exhaustion, cautious calculation, reticent desire. 

Did her own face betray the warfare of her thoughts? The whispers of doubt, the pangs of longing, the breaths of fear.

“Kazi.” Wolffe nudged her with his thigh, and she straightened. “We’re going to take things slow and see where they lead.” He hesitated. His fingers loosened and then clenched around hers. “I need you to trust me.”

A wall existed. 

Fortified after so many years, it protected her self. Protected the little girl she had disappointed for so long.

The wall the glow of yearning kept brushing, a steady hand pressed against the cold exterior, like it would, eventually, burn its way through. 

Its warmth was unthreatening; its goal, though, was anything but.

And yet the glow was so kind, so gentle, and she knew, within the dark, damp pits of herself she kept locked away, that she was damning herself as she said, “I do.” 

Masterlist | Chapter 16 | Chapter 18

A/N: Next chapter release – May 16th

Welcome back and peep the new header :) In case you hadn't realized, each Part has its own. Anyway, we're in the final half! If you're curious, I'm finishing up editing chapters 26-30 and then I'll be finishing the last two, so we're on a clear path forward. That being said, I will be taking off most of June as I'll be on vacation. More of that to come later, though. For now, I hope you enjoy.

Also, it's been one year (May 1st) since I started writing the first draft of this story. It's hard for me to wrap my head around! But thank you for joining me on this journey. I appreciate you all.

[snootlestheangel]

🗣️🗣️ no time like the present to get writing!! (coming from someone who.. also.. should be writing..)

but i'd like to hear more about the wolfshifter au idea if you don't mind!! very intriguing stuff

Thank you for the ask, my friend! Now that you have summoned every thought, here is a dump of the wolfshifter au!!!

So, for starters: The MacTavish family and their history of caring for wolfshifters. Since the discovery of wolfshifters about a century ago, there's been a huge stigma against them in the broad scope of modern society. Something about them never really being "human" and are typically reduced to nothing but savage beasts. But Scotland, having a high focus on herding, accepts the wolfshifter population the best. They're not exactly buddy buddy with them, but most wolfshifters find easy work doing stuff for farmers and whatnot. Granted, most of their jobs are like "guard dog" sorts of jobs, but hey, in a world where it's really common for wolves to be fired, refused a job, evicted, etc. just for being a wolf, work is work.

Then came along Great-great Grandma MacTavish. Something happened with her husband and somehow, a wolfshifter was the one to provide the best support for the young family during their difficult times. She ends up convincing her husband to start a business; basically a support/help center for wolfshifters in need. They provide basic medical care, food, clothing, shelter, etc.

Skip to modern day and Soap's family is still very heavily supporting this 'little' business. It's grown a significant amount, obviously, and it's the largest of a handful of wolfshifter care centers in the country, all others younger and operating independently. Soap's parents still run the "soup kitchen" that provide homemade Scottish meals to any and all wolves, no questions asked. Soap's eldest brother and wife are in charge of the medical facility that provides care for both human and wolf form. The brother (Oliver) and his wife run the "human" department specifically, and one of the two MacTavish sisters (Sarah) is in charge of the "wolf" department. Tiffany, the second MacTavish sister is in charge of the housing for displaced wolfshifters.

Side note about wolfshifters in this AU: they all are required to wear identifying tags/have ID chips for what's considered "safety" purposes. Ghost, being the legally dead menace to society he is, no longer wears his ID tags/dogtags (military ones), and because of Roba, his chip had been forcibly removed so he could never be identified; he'd just die a nobody.

Then we got Simon Riley. His father, being the absolute abomination he is, never knew his wife was a wolfshifter until after they have kids. Simon got the brunt of his abuse for being a wolf, and he eventually just became so numb to the abuse he gets from everyone that he eventually stops transforming. So much to the point that Price is not aware of his shifter status, but he's definitely suspicious.

But not as suspicious as Soap. Soap grew up around wolfshifters, and he knows there are certain behaviors and whatnot that are noticeable even in human form. He picks up on a few, albeit very subtle, behavioral traits from Ghost that just scream "wolf" to him, but he knows not to approach him about it. He grew up around wolves that had nowhere to go, no one to go to, traumatized and broken regarding their true nature. Ghost is like a poster child for it, so Soap keeps his distance from that topic.

They still end up having a very unique relationship, but it's not established when Ghost goes missing during a solo mission. Their intel was wrong or something else of the sort and he ended up getting captured.

The problem? They're a group trying to weaponize wolfshifters by forcing them to remain in wolf form. There's a special drug that was supposedly lost/abandoned that can induce transformations in wolfshifters. This group has mutated it to the point that wolves cannot physically transform back into human for several months at a time with only one injection of an amount that's in ratio with body weight and stuff.

ANYWHO

Ghost ends up stuck in wolf-form, he's injured, and he has no clue where he is. Turns out, he's stranded in what's considered the world's "safehaven" for wolfshifters all because of the MacTavish family.

Soap's siblings end up having to take him in, obviously not knowing who he is because he has no IDs or anything.

Basically just a really fluffy and angsty story about Ghost finding family with the MacTavish's and Soap just having absolutely world-destroying realizations of his love for Simon Riley. Ghost being soft with the young nieces and nephews, being fiercely protective of his new found-family

Yeah, I clearly haven't thought about this AU at all. Nope. Not a thought going towards it

[bakedbakermom]

Stained

Epilogue: Sagacious // start at the beginning

tagging @today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr

sagacious adjective 1. keenly perceptive 2. farsighted; wise -- Saying goodbye to Sunnydale

The hospital cleared Scully for release the next day, every test and scan having come back with no indication of anything being wrong to begin with, let alone any reason to keep her longer; she doubted a test existed that could explain what had happened to her, to them, in this quiet coastal town with monsters and miracles creeping beneath the streets. Who could read the secrets of her heart, written in pure light, on a blood slide? Who could look at an image of her brain on a CT and decode the line she had walked between life and death, or explain how she’d found her way back?

She was brushing her hair in the small metal mirror above the bathroom sink when a voice behind her made her jump. “Looking delectable as always, Red.”

Scully whirled, heart in her throat, adjusting her grip on the brush in case she needed to throw it or use it as a bludgeon. Spike leaned against the door jamb, the perfectly posed picture of nonchalance in a scarlet shirt and his signature leather coat. A lit cigarette dangled from his lips in clear violation of the “no smoking” sign behind him.

She rolled her eyes at him, glancing from him to the mirror and back again. “It’s rude to sneak up on people, Spike, especially if you don’t have a reflection. That’s just cheating.”

“No harm intended, love, I just love to see your cheeks get all pink when you’re startled.”

She squeezed past him through the door and dropped her brush into her open suitcase, which Mulder had brought from the motel; their flight was in just a few hours, and half her mind was buzzing, trying to figure out what she could possibly write in her report to Skinner that would even begin to explain the events of the last week. A vampiric serial killer who committed a series of violent murders every decade on the anniversary of her own gruesome death; Mulder transformed into a vampire and nearly draining her before his soul was restored by a group of college kids; Scully sacrificing her own life to save him, not knowing it was her willingness to die for him that was the secret to the spell, rather than her actual death. Giles had finally translated the last of Vroomen’s journals, revealing that the disgraced Watcher’s wife had also survived the ritual; but he postulated that had either of them known they would live, the spell wouldn’t have succeeded. “The key was believing your death was the only way to save him, and giving up your life willingly,” he had explained.

Scully shook her head, marveling—not for the first time—at the strange intricacies of the magical world that had been lurking just out of sight this whole time. She turned to Spike with a lifted eyebrow. “How did you get in here, anyway?” She nodded meaningfully at the window, the pale threads of morning light filtering through the blinds. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

“Underground tunnels. Sunnydale’s chock full of them, a big dark maze under the whole town. Makes it easy for the sun-averse of the population to get about during the daylight.”

“Seriously? That makes no sense, at least from a city-planning point of view.”

“It does if you consider that the town was built by a quasi-immortal madman literally hellbent on becoming a giant snake.”

Scully squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed at her temples. She really needed to get out of this town. “Of course. Completely reasonable, in that case.”

“Anyway, I just popped in to say goodbye to you and Spooky before you went galavanting off to your real lives again.” He glanced around the little room. “Where is our man, anyway? Still in night shift mode or something?”

She shook her head. “He’s out getting coffee that didn’t come from a vending machine. We spend too much time in hospitals to keep torturing ourselves like that.”

“I’ve got this theory that they make it crappy on purpose; it burns a hole in your stomach, keeps you coming back.”

“Now that’s a conspiracy theory I’d believe.”

Spike cleared his throat, suddenly looking uncharacteristically serious. “It really is amazing, what you did for him. Not many people in this world lucky enough to have someone willing to step under the knife for ‘em. I hope he knows just what he’s got.”

“Oh I do.” Mulder entered the room, a cup of coffee in either hand—not a drop of blood or creepy, self-cannibalizing pig logo to be found. He pressed a chaste kiss to Scully’s cheek as he handed her her cup, then turned to exchange a complicated handshake with Spike. She grinned as she sipped her coffee. He’s got a secret handshake with a vampire. Skinner would faint.

The handshake ended with one of those back-thumping man-hugs, then Spike took Scully’s hand and touched it to his lips. He stared pointedly at Mulder. “You take good care of this one. I mean it; you hurt her and I’ll pull your entrails out through your nose and string ‘em up like Christmas lights around my crypt.”

Scully wrinkled her nose at the graphic imagery, but Mulder only laughed. “If I hurt her,” he answered, clapping the vampire on the back, “I’d deserve it. Take care of yourself, Spike.”

“First and always,” he replied. Spike moved to the door, then stopped for a moment, hand on the frame, considering. He turned back to them, something soft and contemplative in his eyes. “You know, there’s one thing that’s nagging on me. Dana here made a little joke about immortality the other night, got me thinking: if she’s gonna live forever, and now she’s given you some sort of… metaphysical life-force transfusion, what’s that mean for your eternity, Mulder?”

He twitched his brows, then vanished down the hall in a flap of leather.

They stood frozen, staring after him, for a long moment. Scully thought of the prayer votives she had lit, of the taper passing the fire from one candle to another, doubling the flame rather than extinguishing it.

…the flame kindles life… to share it… no greater gift…

Finally Mulder said, “I think he’s got a little crush on you.”

She ran a hand along his jaw until he met her eyes, then pushed up on her toes to brush her lips over his. “Too bad my heart belongs to someone else.”

Couldn't let this end without a little more Scully and Spike :) Thank you thank you thank you for taking this journey with me. Thank you for reading, for your kudos and comments, for your reblogs on tumblr. IT means everything to me. I hope you laughed, cried, laughed so hard you cried. This fic was a blast to write (most of the time) and it was great for me, personally, to see how I've grown as a writer between my first attempt 20+ years ago and now. Comments will be printed, laminated, and placed lovingly in a scrapbook to be read over and over again.

[exosmutfactory]

Only Forever—Interlude

How long could you wait for the love of your life to decide you are his as well? How many times could you witness all his best moments of winning over agencies and the amount of clothes left overnight from his daily one night stands?

Main Masterlist | Bookclub zone | Pre-Chapter 7✓

networks — @/superm-net @/bbh-net

pairing — Baekhyun x You

word count — 1.0k

genre — model! baekhyun, playboy! baekhyun, friends to lovers! romance, angst, fluff, smut (eventually)

[ This chapter contains: a conversation 💕 ]

⏰💋 Only Forever Tag List: 💋⏰

@to-all-the-stories-i-love @you-n-me-e-e @insta1010 @bellamendoza @bbhflrt @weirdoome @marovekian1 @pearliejoy @loey0491 @__jxnnx3 @soonvivi @jairahxelle @dynqstyna @xuxibelle

Interlude

Life can pass you by in the blink of an eye. Seconds turn into minutes. Minutes flow into hours. If you aren’t careful, you'll lose track of days and weeks at a time.

Unfortunately, that’s how you feel after this new development between you and Baekhyun. You spent the last few days running on little sleep and a concerning amount of coffee to make it through your pile of assignments and vigorous work routine. Wake up. Work on school stuff. Take an extra shift. Sleep. And repeat.

If you had a choice, you would work fewer hours and take fewer classes at once. But you need to graduate on time. You need to pay your bills. If you had taken on an extra job like you usually do for winter and spring breaks, your bank account wouldn’t be looking so bare right now.

Like 98.99% of the rest of your country’s population, you don’t have the luxury to “relax” or a rich relative to rely on. You have to grind for every single extra penny you can make until you earn your degree to work the high-paying job of your dreams. That, or die trying.

You sigh, sharply sucking in a breath when you roll a stiff shoulder. After a particularly long shift yesterday, you woke up with most of your body screaming in agony. You’re just a young adult but damn if your bones aren’t already creaking from countless hours of hard labor. How many months ‘til graduation again? You aren’t getting any younger out here. You’d much rather put your blood, sweat, and tears into a career that you are passionate about, which brings you back to the present.

Sitting stiffly in the secluded corner of an upscale coffee shop, you wait impatiently for your companion to arrive, already wincing at the price of your drink and a small pastry. When is my next shift? You can’t help glancing down at the calendar on your phone, regretting all your life choices.

“Hey,” an all-too-familiar low voice floats into your ear, interrupting your thoughts.

You look up into warm brown eyes, taking in the man in front of you. Baekhyun’s hair is neatly parted in the middle, an endearing curl to the ink-black strands swept across his forehead. You blink a few times at the expensive sweater he is wearing, you can only imagine that it is made out of a thin material when you know how smotheringly hot the weather is outside today. “Hi,” you greet him dryly, regarding him with what you hope is a serious expression as you watch a look of surprise cross his handsome face. “We need to talk,” you continue, cutting to the chase, hyper-aware of his unwavering stare. “...What was that the other night?”

Baekhyun sets down his drink on the table, tentatively sitting across from you, brown eyes catching the sparkling rays of sunlight. “The other night?”

Your hands twitch as you hold onto your own mug for dear life. The confusion on his face, as if—

You choose not to linger on that because the last thing you need right now is to overthink before this conversation even begins. “You came to my apartment,” you remind him, trying to hold his thoughtful gaze, your heart racing in your chest. “In the middle of the night.”

“Yeah?”

“And kissed me.”

Baekhyun takes a sip of his coffee, licking the cream left on his lips from the overflowing lid. He regards you quietly for a moment, tilting his head. “...was I not supposed to do that?”

You resist the urge to hide your head in your hands. This is going nowhere. “You said we would talk about this,” you explain, gesturing to the space between the two of you. “Not show up at my place, make out for 5 minutes, then just-” you flush, but you have to get this through to him, waving your hand more to get your point across, “run back out the door.”

“I had a flight.” He justifies, and you can only groan in embarrassment, looking away. This awkward conversation is going to be the end of you.

“I know.” He literally sent you a picture of Big Ben in all the giant clock’s glory in the middle of your cramped study session—okay, time to change tactics.

“Just… Talk to me?” you look up at him, meeting his eyes. You immediately lift a finger before he can respond, recognizing the furrow between his brows and the frown on his parted lips. “I don’t expect you to quit your job. Just- communicate with me more, please? So we don’t fuck this thing up?” Any more than I already have… Because you’ve had enough relationships where the lack of communication ended up being the main reason for all the bad fallouts.

The thought must show on your face because Baekhyun’s eyes soften, his warm hand covering yours. “I know, I’m sorry. I said we would, I just-” He shakes his head, looking down at the table, raven bangs falling into his eyes. “I had to see you that night, but it was unfair of me. You can’t just-” He cuts himself off when his gaze drifts somewhere over your shoulder. Baekhyun bites his lip for a moment before meeting your gaze again, his expression pinched and jaw set in resolve. 

You watch him warily, shifting slightly in your seat to see what he’s looking at. All it takes is another flicker of his eyes to a nondescript man lingering at the front of the coffee shop for you to pick up on what he’s trying to say without words. Because even in a place like this, with highly trained waitresses and baristas, your conversation is limited.

The reminder stings in your chest. Yeah. There goes another nail on the coffin: just because you caught Baekhyun’s interest doesn’t mean social media and paparazzi are no longer an issue. It is a very big issue. Very. In fact, earlier Baekhyun had instructed you to walk into this establishment from the back entrance because he knows that a handful of camera-crouching goblins are stationed at the front door.

...

Yep. Reality never fails to bite me in the ass.

But looking up at Baekhyun’s earnest expression, you can’t stay mad at him.

Part 1| Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | PRE 7✓ | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 |

A/N: 

I made a goal to focus on this story this year, and like all my plans go, trouble finds me in 3’s. A lot of family heartbreak (relationship wise; I can’t trust anyone but my mother anymore) in November, my girlfriend and I broke things off the same day the family troubles struck, and at the beginning of this month, I lost a 5 year long friendship because neither of us was ready to be in a relationship yet they wanted to accuse me of things and tie me down right after I finish school. You can guess why writing best friends falling in love is hard on me lately… but if there’s one thing I have left, it’s my stubbornness, so I will do my best. It’s just hard.

Anyways, many lovely readers wanted these love birds to talk things out, so I hope this (short, smh-) chapter clears things up a bit!

—a bit, ‘cause I wouldn't be a writer if I didn’t write flawed characters :'D always be prepared for disaster to strike.

Thank you for all the lovely comments and support last chapter. I'll reply to everyone when I can. I love how y’all think!!! This all seems too good to be true, doesn’t it? 🤭 You all make these late nights spent writing worth it 🥰💕💕💕

Bye~~~! See you next time!

[siriuslysatorusimping]

I was tagged 😃

So I have a bachelors and masters in applied psych and now am working towards a PhD in neuroscience :) I love love love it with every fiber of my being and I must be a masochist bc I LOVE the academic hazing that is grad school. I’m probably gonna end up teaching and doing research bc I don’t wanna stop being a student. How do Rinko and Gojo feel about grading btw? Hate it. Worst thing ever.

My focus is on brain imaging and stress in a special population of kids who are highly predisposed to developing schizophrenia, but I had to have a lot of training in psychopharmacology and general cognitive and behavioral science to begin with which is why I am so ready to nerd tf out with Rinko studying psych 😍

YOU ARE SO FUCKING SMART. HOLY SHIT. THAT IS SO FUCKING COOL.

Kiko ranted like a dumbass so hi, rest below the cut 🫠

I have a BA and MA in Technical Writing & Rhetoric with a minor in English Literature. HOWEVER. My grad research focus was actually user experience, which was born from human-computer interaction (a psychology major at my old school). Our department had the best user experience professor, so we had a lot of the HCI PhDs in our UX classes. I always loved talking to them and picking their brains. Part of me wishes I had gotten my PhD in HCI or a related field, but I needed out of academia. I fucking hated it. It was also in the height of COVID, which just destroyed all of my motivation for life itself lol

AS FOR GRADING: I FUCKING HATED IT, TOO.

listen.

when i was in grad school, i had 50+ papers to grade every couple of weeks and we had to have them graded within a certain time period or administration CAME FOR US AND IT WAS TERRIFYING.

But one time I left all 50 until the day before I was put on the hit list and I wanted to die. So I chugged two redbulls and proceeded to go on a grading marathon of like, 10 hours.

This AU is feeding my tiny desire to go back to school to keep me from making the giant financial mistake of trying to get my PhD when I know I'll hate academia just as much as I did last time.

I think Rinko will actually semi-enjoy grading, because she's the type who will be so intrigued to see how her students think.

Gojo hates it. But he also doesn't trust anyone else to do it right. Lucky for him, most of his exams are multiple-choice. But since it's physics they have to show their work, and he hates grading that shit because it becomes so obvious that they don't fucking know what they're doing.

(maybe one of the installments will be a cute, fluffy lil grading session where they're just keeping each other company 🥺)

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

What's "Hunter's ed"? Is it literally just school classes dedicated to hunting?

Kinda yeah? Class instead of classes though. I took it through public school as a kid when i was uhh 8 or 9 i think, but most of it can be done online these days, except for the final field day bit.

Hunters Education (as i remember it) teaches stuff like:

firearms safety (never point it at a person, keep the chamber empty, triple check it's empty, make sure to carry it so it doesn't point at anything you don't want to shoot, TEST TO MAKE SURE ITS EMPTY by pointing it somewhere safe like a soft earth ground or thick wood and pulling the trigger before you leave the gun alone or store it or clean it, ect)

shooting safety (remember if you miss the bullet keeps going, check what's behind or around the thing you're aiming at, try to find a natural backstop like a hill or thick deep tree coverage or make sure you have a long clear line of sight, remember the bullet drops over long distance shots, remember to sight in your scopes before hunting if you use them)

navigation in the wilderness using map and compass (bane of my fucking existence)

how to gut and harvest the animal if you get one (blegh to be honest) (for the love of heck make SURE your knife is sharp and hopefully has a drop point and also a small finger guard things get slippery quick) (make a gut pile some ways away so other creatures can have it and not bother you) (mom also told me to put a sprig of a branch in the animal's mouth as a thanks and be nice to the body but that's not in hunter's ed i don't think)

awareness of land, conservation, and hunting laws (basically just hey remember you can't shoot whatever you want whenever you want and even if you could you shouldn't bc your hunting impacts the population numbers and heath so if you wanna get something next year to eat don't shoot the females with babies this year, also check your hunting area and get your hunting tags) (they don't talk about how most of the hunters we get out here aren't locals but drive in with huge trucks and multiple four-wheelers and camp out here looking for fun and a big rack, while my sister goes out on foot with her teen son hoping to get ANYTHING so we have meat in the winter) (they don't talk about how people want nice healthy animals and take those out of the population while wolves go for the sick, the unprotected young, the old, the injured, and take THOSE out of the population instead) (they don't talk about how many moose die from getting hit by fucking cars on the highways)

Aaaaaaand here is how to actually fire a gun (field day) (hateful and loud) (not actually a whole day) (spent mine with my hands over my ears bc i was used to just using a little .22 rifle for grouse and it's sooooo different when you know when the shot will come VS having it come cracking out of nowhere)

You need the hunters ed certificate before you can hunt in some units (areas) of Alaska (if your were born after a certain time) or if you're under 18 and hunting without adult supervision (reason why i took it) but i think the main point was to stop people accidentally shooting themselves or friends ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Oh hey they have a website for it actually. here is Hunter Education

[mythicaldemigoddess-of-deltarune]

Undertale x Deltarune Theory: Magic In RH Negative Humans And Hybrid Children

if some humans and monsters aren’t able to have children together, like in both the canon and a few fanon timelines of Undertale AU.

but there could be a loophole, while there can be some humans who aren’t able to have a child with a monster, there can be some that actually can.

like I have a theory, that if some humans who live in Undertale’s World and maybe even those in Deltarune’s World were to have RH Negative blood type, they would be able to have a child with a monster, this is because the human with RH Negative has a body that is a mix of the same water and matter that makes up the human body, but also is made up of magic as well.

the reason why when a human mother from the undertale or deltarune world who has RH Negative blood, has problems when her blood ends up harming the baby, it could be because of the magic from their body.

I also think the human holding a sword in the opening of Undertale, might be Toriel when she was human.

the reason she was able to become the same type as monster as Asgore, is because her blood type being O RH D Negative.

a human spouse with RH Negative blood, can have a choice to transform as the same type of monster as their monster spouse or stay as they are.

and how Toriel could of been turned from a human princess to a monster who would become the wife and queen of Asgore, could have to do with a type of metamorphosis spell, but it would need consent from both parties for it to work.

and it can only work on humans who’s bodies are made up of magic and water as well as the other matter.

if that were real in real life, maybe I could have the choice to be turned into a boss monster or the same type as Sans and Papyrus. XD

I really should try to get around to see if my blood type will come out O RH D Negative for a third time, I can’t keep putting it off and procrastinating with it.

 I can’t help but seeing my being able to use a pendulum, as a type of Magic.

 in theory if there are very few monster skeletons, if they do end up marrying a human that has RH Negative blood, they could rebuild the monster skeleton population, because being able to have a child with a human with RH Negative blood.

if Toriel was once human, it is possible she would of had to been a Boss Monster when she had Asriel, it might be unknown if she still could of had him if she was still human.

but a human with RH Negative Blood, could still be a human and still have a child with a monster skeleton, but can choose to go through the metamorphosis spell to become a skeleton like their life-partner/spouse skeleton.

for all we know, Papyrus and Sans’s Mom could of been a Human.

I still think Sans could be the future self of Steven Quartz Universe, either from being brought back to life after his gem was forced out of his body, and his gem half that makes up Pink-Steven not reforming in time and causing the human half of Steven to slowly die when not fused back together with his gem half...

or Steven could of became Sans through reincarnation.

anyway I guess I can talk more about this theory that while in maybe in the canon and fanon timelines, some humans and monsters aren’t able to have children together, but could if the human has RH Negative blood.

in cause a human and monster couple do want to have a child together, but aren’t able to because they aren’t able to because of the human’s blood type.

they could have a RH Negative blood type Human act as a surrogate mother for the two, to help them have a child.

anyway I think I will wait to talk about this theory more maybe tomorrow or whenever I can.

also please do not reblog this without my permission....I had to edit two drawing’s tags, that had that tag, but two people had reblog despite that tag already being there, so because I didn’t feel like talking to them about it, I decided to edit the tags out....

but I think next time, I will make sure to mention it somewhere at the very top of the post, so the tags wont be ignored.

I will sign back on later tonight or tomorrow, hope some like this theory about RH Negatives in Undertale and Deltarune.

Kris could be RH Negative for all we know, same goes for Frisk and Chara.                        

[zomthezom]

I swear, people on the internet have zero braincells. seriously? calling the entire palestinian population terrorists? calling GAZA terrorists? it’s just that one group, and while yes they are in the wrong, israel is the country that put those civilians and locked them up in gaza in the first place. if anyone’s a terrorist, it’s the Israeli government. they took it upon themself to cut off all communications in palestine, claiming it’s so they can’t get more terrorist grips? it’s obvious why they did that. misinformation. controlling the flow of information is the most powerful leverage in war in the 21st century. if you have the whole world supporting you cause of misinformation, then the opposing side might just give up. hell, Elon Musk tried doing something good for once, by giving Palestine Starlink, but Israel threatened to attack him if he would have went through with it. They make ads on youtube saying their babies are dying, but i’m pretty sure those are Gaza babies. i’m not saying israel as a whole are terrorists, i’m arguing the fact that it’s the government. It’s surprising how I, someone who’s barely 5 years away from adulthood, is less ignorant than most of the adults on the internet. People here on tumblr have the right idea, tumblr itself has boosted the #free palestine tag. Proof of how misinformation affects people is the United States. People say that the US is a hero country and is amazing and all, but a ton of Veterens from the US know how horrible the United States truly is. I was recently taught by my school that after 9/11 the US went to Afghanistan to get that one guy (i forgot his name), but in reality (i’m 90% sure i’m remembering this correctly), the US just went there to ravage Afghanistan for its oil. the US is GREEDY. but more on that in a future post. Someone on twitter mentioned something about Israel and terrorism, and they simply responded ‘🤥🤥👖🔥’

while both sides are bad, the israeli government is beginning to tip the scale towards them for who is more ‘bad’ in moral standards. there’s been several claims that palestinian terrorists kill women and children, but there’s also been several news reports of Israel women and their kids being spared by the same group. I’ve even seen a video where this reporter was asking this man if they’ll (israel military) spare the kitten he found. and the man responded with something along the lines of ‘they don’t even spare human lives, you think they’ll care about an animal?’

Another point is that the group offered to give Israel the hostages back for a trade of money or something, and Israel simply responded with ‘we won’t let them die in vain’. what? they won’t die if you get them back. you’d rather them die then try to make peace or whatever? if i was in israel and one of the people i know were hostage in that situation (whether i like them or not), i would be severely angered.

All in all, people need to quit dunking on those who support Palestine, they’re supporting the civilians not the terrorists. Heck i can see if they support the terrorists, they’re more morally well compared to the Israeli government.

[corvidcrybaby]

ventpost re: spirituality, jewish identity, blah

the more i think about my upbringing as a lutheran the more upset about it i get, despite knowing there is nothing that can be done about it now.

i'm not so naive as to espouse some sort of grass is always greener bullshit but i really do feel the isolation sometimes of feeling like a spiritual/religious "stray" of sorts. i've been spending passover reflecting on where i stand on this besides trading a quick exchange of texts with my grandfather. i wish i'd had a religious upbringing that i felt i belonged in, and yeah, i do wish it'd been one more in line with the ol' family name. it's hebrew, after all, for fuck's sake. it's hard for me not to feel robbed when i think of how much my experience with christianity just felt plain wrong and incongruent for me from the very jump. even when i was a little kid i was asking questions at sunday school that i could tell were catching supervisors off guard. i was lucky in that they answered my questions of "how do we know this all happened" with "it's a matter of faith - we choose to believe these things because we believe in what they stand for" which while not where I stand now, is far more lenient than the average american church lady might say. prolly woulda gotten smacked if i said that in the wrong place at that age.

but all the same, it feels wrong of me to be carrying the name i carry with so little knowledge of where it comes from. i didn't get a jewish education. i barely know the basics. i can say a couple things in hebrew including my name, which is good i suppose. i remember the pride in my grandfather's voice when he taught me to pronounce the family name in Hebrew and i nailed it on the first try. i can tell how happy it makes him that i've taken so much interest in his side of the family as I've grown older and he's always overjoyed to answer all the questions he can, even though he's elderly to the point he can't quite string together coherent answers anymore. i cherish them nonetheless.

i often want to ask him what made him convert. if it was out of a need for safety and security, if it was out of convenience, or if he really did feel more drawn to christianity. and if so, why. but then, that's awfully personal, isn't it? like, REALLY personal. whose place is it to judge? not mine, that's for damned sure. i can't help but wonder if it was fully his decision, given his happiness about where my religious identity is moving to these days. is he glad one of his descendants feels safe and comfortable enough, or is brave enough to "return" to Judaism? or is that ludicrously naive of me to even entertain the notion of? am i just a dumb child playing at something i don't understand and am in fact insulting?

am i "tainted" by my christian upbringing?

is it even my right to claim the status of "jewish," despite being visually so enough to be called antisemitic slurs over my hair when i was a teenager? does that even count because it was via online or some shit? am i not jewish enough, despite knowing for a FACT i'd have died in the Shoah if i'd been there? despite knowing i had family members who DID die in the Shoah?

am i even "allowed" to be writing the fic i am? or is it all just philosemitic drivel by some culturally christian buffoon stumbling around walking into walls and slapping a "Jewish Characters" AO3 tag on it? is it all just make-believe and pretend?

will i never be "jewish enough" to feel comfortable in my own skin and the identity label?

i'm moving to a more populated area soon and have been eyeing synagogues, if only to see about finding someone who knows more than me to talk to for advice about this. i'm well aware that being a secular jew is perfectly valid, but i don't know if that's all i want out of life.

all i've wanted for as long as i can remember is to belong somewhere - i'm so weary of feeling out-of-step. wandering from social group to social group, never feeling anchored down anywhere. perhaps that's just the diaspora experience. perhaps that's as diaspora jewish as it gets. but it isn't satisfying me anymore. but if i reached out, would i be turned away? would i be laughed at? is all this laughable in and of itself?

idk man. i had my name struck from my old church's records. when i discarded my deadname and chose my new one, i picked it because it was hebrew and spoke to what's important to me. i dedicated myself to studying yiddish theatre in grad school. i've used my fanfiction as a means of deepening my knowledge of jewish spirituality and storytelling. my shelves bear books on yiddish folktales, kabbalah, jewish history divided up by region and country, guidebooks on things like the process of mourning/saying kaddish, and others. i've fucked around with yiddish on duolingo despite being horrid about building that as a routine. i've used art as an excuse to practice hebrew calligraphy. my feed is full of resources on jewish learning and jewish blogs where i drink in as much knowledge as i possibly can every day. i read so much my head hurts. will it ever feel like enough?

will i ever feel like i belong?

am i enough as is?

idk man.

what can i say but oy fucking vey. i just wish i had the answers, or at least someone i could talk to about this. but then i worry about being burdensome, because hashem only knows when given the chance i'll only barrage them with a billion questions a day. who wants to deal with that? fuckin only a select few i'm sure. hahaha.

ah well. i'll figure out the answers to these questions eventually. and if i don't, maybe i'll come to terms with not having them answered. maybe nobody ever really answers these questions during their lifespans. maybe the answer changes every day one spends on earth.

[avalonsilver]

I posted 3,421 times in 2022

9 posts created (0%)

3,412 posts reblogged (100%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@aborddelimpala

@hallowedbecastiel

@merlin-gifs

@sweetoothgirl

@cascaps

I tagged 3,411 of my posts in 2022

#wardrobe queue - 1,108 posts

#sam winchester - 356 posts

#bbcmerlin - 333 posts

#bbc merlin - 327 posts

#dean winchester - 327 posts

#castiel - 269 posts

#sam and dean - 239 posts

#castiel appreciation - 226 posts

#text post - 212 posts

#arthur x merlin - 186 posts

Longest Tag: 89 characters

#instead of just asking mary or lata who were already there to replace a distracted carlos

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

I just needed to say, thank you for your constant support of my side-blog, pumpkin-hunters. I think you're the top reblogger, and I think that's neat of you, so thank you. :)

Hi! You're very welcome. Some great posts there! They can be inspirational. 💙💙

@pumpkin-hunters blog rec for Autumn/Halloween-related posts. Especially now since it's not autumn but you love the whole Autumn mood/Halloween. 💙

3 notes - Posted February 9, 2022

#4

Happy New Year!! I know I didn't post a Merry Christmas post. Was feeling under the weather, still am but getting better.

Anyway, Happy 2022! Wishing everyone a great New Year and if 2021 was not so good, hoping 2022 will prove better! Still New Year's Eve here, but thought I'd put this up early.

I wasn't sure how all my Midam reblogs would be received. Sorry for those who are unfamiliar-- It's one of my big interests now in terms of shipping. I still love Sastiel, but I mean-- Episode 15x08 for SPN-- that really set up an intriguing friendship between Michael & Adam. Thanks to those who've liked and reblogged my Midam-related reblogs. Makes me feel better about all the Midam reblogs one after another sometimes. I'm trying to add some non-Midam reblogs to change things up.

I'm excited to post one of my favorite chapters for "Everything Ends Here" in January. It'll be a canon-divergent one for the SPN episode "Faith."

Also hoping to finish a story that's more angsty than shippy, but it has both Sastiel & Midam (not sure if that combo in one story is really done?). It will be titled, "The Christmas Resurrection." Hoping to complete the story before winter is over? *blush*

Here are some gifs I like to celebrate the New Year. *grins*

Mishalecki, of course. 😛

Michael & Adam in SPN 15x08 💙 Interesting to see Michael suggesting Adam be his guide to spending time on Earth. Such a change from Michael in Season 5 who would probably prefer to stay up in Heaven if not for following through with the plan for the Apocalypse.

See the full post

5 notes - Posted December 31, 2021

#3

Title: One Last Time Before We Part

Author: AvalonSilver

Artist: Wonderland

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Ships: Gen, minor Michael/Adam and Jack/non-spn male character

Expected word count: 20K

Major warnings and tags: Thoughts of self-harm (no follow-through), angel possession, discrimination, miserable!Jack, bastard!Chuck, Sam and grief

Summary: In the final days, Jack rushes to cement his plan to insure Chuck's possession of him won't be permanent.

Humanity suffers through half of Earth's population being wiped out and a strange curse. Sam is still determined to save Jack despite Michael’s assertion that Jack must die along with Chuck to fix things.  

Claire has difficulty coping after losing those closest to her -- especially Kaia.

After a troubling encounter with Jack, Claire can't avoid the decision looming over her. She must confront her complicated past with Castiel upon the angel's return.

Also, Claire makes an unexpected friend – the sole survivor of his farming village in Wales after Chuck's attack – whose powerful bloodline can help in the fight against Chuck.

Sam takes his final stand when Michael aims to end Chuck and Jack.

Opening paragraph: Jack entered the room looking tense.

His face was very pale as if he was coming down with something -- a cold or the flu. Which didn't make much sense considering Jack couldn't get sick.

But Cas and Jack were both well aware of the insidious terrible creation that was now growing within Jack.

Posting Date: May 26, 2022

7 notes - Posted April 23, 2022

#2

Just to let you know, I'm not sure how often I'll be reblogging posts due to this weird tagging glitch on the mobile app for the past few days.

I've seen a few other people posting about this on Tumblr. So at least it's not just me. I prefer reblogging via the app and it's becoming frustrating reblogging when I keep needing to fix each tag.

I know the tagging is okay on the regular site -- I checked, but I don't want to go on my laptop or whatever just to fix a tag or add them. I'm one of those who likes to tag to help me find the post later. So not having tags won't work for me. :(

The tagging glitch on the mobile app is basically you type out the tag like you want but some letters come up twice bizarrely (when you only click the letter once)-- like, "Uunnbbeelieevvabblee" -- so I have to fix that mess. You kind of lose the motivation to have more than a tag or two for a post. It really sucks.

So I've been reblogging things I really like right now-- that feel worth the tagging glitch. One of which is gifsets from BBC's Merlin-- been rewatching some episodes recently -- Series/Season 4 right now.

Got to say still love the angst in 4x06 when Arthur is upset at Merlin being missing and possibly dead. Still love that episode upon the rewatch.

I think this is a sign to focus more on my story. Better that than glaring at the messed up tags due to the Tumblr glitch. Hope this gets fixed soon.

7 notes - Posted April 18, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Okay, I know... Another one, but I couldn't resist. Now that it's officially January 1, 2022 for me, Happy New Year!

Someone convince me not to request another Cameo from Jake Abel...

Anyway... 😛 I have two more request ideas but the price... Is it worth it? I think so... if I ask for a gift card for my bday this year. And if he's still on Cameo when I get that gift card.

So yeah, back to the New Year celebration. Sorry for the topic change there. The Cameo thing has been on my mind since my first request turned out pretty well.

More gifs in honor of the New Year!

Some Sastiel and Mishalecki (including the iconic S14 gag reel moment, of course) gifs. 💙💙

I couldn't resist the healing one from 9x10. Love moments like that.

See the full post

19 notes - Posted January 1, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →