#what is forest mulch

[dynamictreesolutions-au]

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[elurin]

schools in the US (at least the ones I attended) present such glowing view of earthworms and people get such a bad impression that they're always good for the environment and it makes me so sad. like. please. why are you teaching that in this state (mn). every earthworm in this state is invasive and some of them are ruining our forest ecosystems but you guys are out here convincing people its okay and even good to release earthworms into the wild. there's basically nothing that can be done about them once they are somewhere so we just need people to stop spreading them. please. why are we teaching the kids earthworms good for environment always. they're gonna pour their parents' extra live bait into the forest floor. their parents think the same thing so they might do it anyway. they are so slow to spread if we don't do it for them.

[headspace-hotel]

data about where carbon emissions are coming from is so frustrating cause there's all kinds of huge, sprawling, just fucking vast breakdowns of What Causes The Most Carbon Emissions Out Of All Everything In The Entire World, but those are aggregations of numerous smaller but still vast aggregations of data, which are processed and polished from various aggregations of crunched numbers, which are patched and pieced together from various studies, estimates and calculations, which are sieved out of numbers crunched from various measurements, estimates and records, which have been collected, estimated or otherwise conceived through an unspeakably huge variety of methodologies with unspeakably huge variety in limitations, reliability and margins of error.

Even if some of the data was very fine-grained at the beginning, it was filtered through some very coarse number-crunching techniques for the sake of the coarse data, so the results are only as good as the wrongest thing you did in any part of this process, but the plans of action are getting thought up from the top down, which makes the whole thing a hot fucking mess.

For example. And I just made this example up. Say you want to know whether apples or potatoes have a worse impact on climate change. So you look at one of these huge ass infographic things. And it says that potatoes are bad, whereas apples are REALLY good, the BEST crop actually. So it's better to eat apples than potatoes, you think to yourself. Actually we should find a way to replace potatoes with apples! We should fund genetic engineering of apples so they have more starch and can replace potatoes. Great idea. Time to get some investors to put $5 billion towards it.

But actually. Where'd they get that conclusion about apples? Well there's this review right here of the carbon footprint of all different fruits, seems legit. Where'd that data come from? Well it's citing this study right here saying that tree-grown crops are better because they sequester carbon, and this study right here about the distance that different fruits get transported, and this study right here where different fertilization systems are compared in terms of their carbon footprint, and this study over here that sampled 300 apple, peach, and orange farmers comparing their irrigation practices and rates of tree mortality, and this study...wow, okay, seems really reliable...

...what's the first study citing? oh, okay, here's a study about mycorrhizal networks in orchards in Oregon, saying that there's a super high density of fungal mycelium in the 16 orchards that they sampled. And here's a study about leaf litter decay rates in Switzerland under different pesticide regimes, and...okay...relationship of tree spacing to below ground vs. aboveground biomass...a review of above and below-ground biomass in semi-intensively managed orchard plots...

...That one cites "Relationship between biomass and CO2 requirements...carbon immobilization in soil of various tree species...mycorrhizal fungi impact on carbon storage...

...wait a second, none of these are talking about apples, they're about boreal forests...and orange trees...and peanut farms! They're just speculating on roughly applying the non-apple data to apples. You have to go backwards...

Yes! "A review of belowground carbon storage in orchard cropping systems!" Seems like overall the studies find potentially high carbon storage in orchard environments! Walnuts...pears...oranges... intercropping walnuts and wheat... intercropping apples and wheat... wait a second, what about orchards with only apples?

Time for you to go back again...

"New method of mulching in apple orchards can lower irrigation and pesticide needs..." okay but if it's new, most farmers aren't doing it. "Orchards with high density interplanted with annual crops show way more mycorrhizal fungus activity..." "Mycorrhizal associations with trees in the genus Malus..."

...And pretty soon you've spent Five Fucking Hours investigating apples and you've got yourself in this tangled web of citations that demonstrate that some orchard crops (not necessarily apples) store a lot of long-lasting biomass in their trunks and roots really well—and some apple orchards (not necessarily typical ones) have high amounts of mycorrhizal fungi—and some techniques of mulching in orchards (not necessarily the ones apple farmers use) experience less erosion—and some apple trees (not necessarily productive agricultural apples) have really deep root systems—

—and some environments with trees, compared with some conventional agricultural fields, store more carbon and experience less erosion, but not apple orchards because that data wasn't collected in apple orchards.

And you figure out eventually that there is no direct evidence anywhere in the inputs that singles out apples as The Best Crop For Fighting Climate Change, or suggests that conventional apple farming has a much smaller carbon footprint than anything else.

The data just spit out "apples" after an unholy writhing mass of Processes that involved 1) observing some tree-grown crops and deciding it applies closely enough to all tree grown crops 2) observing some apple orchards and deciding its applicable enough to all apple orchards 3) observing some tree-including environments and deciding its close enough to all tree-including environments 4) observing some farming methods and deciding it applies closely enough to all farming methods

And any one of these steps individually would be fine and totally unavoidable, but when strung together repeatedly they distort the original data into A Puddle of Goo.

And it wouldn't be that bad even to string them together, if trees didn't vary that much, and farming didn't vary that much, and soil didn't vary that much, and mycorrhizal networks didn't vary that much, and regions that grow apples didn't vary that much, and pre-conversion-to-apple-orchard states of apple orchards didn't vary that much, and economic incentives controlling apple farming didn't vary that much, but all of these things DO vary, a Fuck Ton, and if the full range of variation were taken into account—nay, intentionally optimized—the distinction between apples and potatoes might turn out to be be MEANINGLESS GOO.

anyway big size piles of data about Farming, In General, make me so bitchy

[acotarxreader]

Flower

Azriel x Reader (Rhysands sister)

Synopsis: You and Azriel are sent deep into the mountains in search of a flower that may save Feyre's life during childbirth but quickly the frenemy status is put to the test as past trials come to a head leaving you to decide between your new sister and the potential love of your life.

Warnings: Fluff,, teasing angst, frenemies, physical fighting, mentions of wing damage/loss, blood, sweetness, silliness, Az calling the reader Kid.

A/N: You voted for it so here it is, my next Azriel fic. I enjoyed writing this, did it kinda quickly so forgive any mistakes and let me know what you think!

P.s I named Rhysand and Readers sister Aruna which means Moon in some languages.

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“We’re lost Azriel”

“We’re not, you have no trust in me, this is basic Illyrian training” Azriel pushed an elongated branch from his path, releasing it thoughtlessly to smack you into the chest, a small yelp leaving you. 

“Fucking hell!” You swiped the pollen markings it left from your chest, knotting your face into a scowl towards the back of the Spymaster's head. 

“Next time duck” he called back, grin-laced words.

“Next time pick someone else to accompany you on your wild goose chases” Your boot sank into the uphill climb, the mud sinking its teeth into the well-worn leather as you fought with your lungs to keep breathing. 

“You were chosen for official Night Court duties by an official member of the Night Court government, have a little pride”

“An official Night Court prick more like” You muttered in reply to Azriel’s faux-inflated self-importance. Two days ago you had left Velaris, in pursuit of a special medicinal flower, Madja’s hope to save Feyre from the birth of her child. You had been hiking upwards for what felt like all 48 hours of your journey, your calves practically speaking to you now. 

“Do they not cover outdoor pursuit in your healer apprenticeship?” Another branch slapped into from the direction of the Spymaster.

“Do they not cover manners in Windhaven?” 

“You’ve known me for centuries, you know they don’t teach manners” He grinned, your sure footing overtaking his position as he held back a thicket of branches for you. You rolled your eyes as you passed him, missing his clear deception. Your foot snagged on a millennia old root system of an ancient tree, sending you finally downwards on your travel to bump along a forgotten path for a few seconds before another primeval tree stopped your course. Azriel shot with his usual agile step down after you. 

“I didn’t think you’d fly that far” He laughed down at you, your clothing covered in moss and mulch from your trip. 

“This is it, this is where you kill me. This was all a plot, all those centuries as the best pain in the ass culminating in this fake trip, Feyre isn’t even pregnant is she?!” You threw your arm across your forehead in fake dramatics, feining pain as he Azriel rolled his eyes before offering you a hand to pull you up. 

“I think if I was going to kill you, I’d have left Cassian to drown you that time we went swimming when we were 40”

“Ah, the last time I went swimming with you fools” You took his hand as he hauled you up, your muscles settling back into their place after their 360. You both continued your hike with some element of hurry but also with comfort.

“You used to love swimming with us and I mean c’mon I stopped him, no points for that?”

“You only stopped him because the death of Mor’s favourite cousin would have meant your certain death”

“I’m telling Rhysand you said that”

“Fine by me, he knows” You smirked before skipping along, hands behind your back in rested peace, your head gazing up through the canopy, the stars beginning to sparkle down over the moon-bathed forest. Azriel marvelled towards you, somewhat enamoured at the strong sense of peace radiating from his best friend's sister. You stretched above the sunken path towards a low-hanging branch, bright blush berries glowing in the scarce light. Your linen shifted slightly from your skin as you reached, revealing the troves of scars and chasms from the savagery of Spring's deepest betrayal of Azriel’s chosen family. You turned to him, a childlike grin as your cheeks filled with the lush fruit, a small laugh leaving Azriel as he gently shook his head. 

“Come here Kid, you’re all berry” He smiled, running the back of his sleeve down your cheek, banishing stray seeds until you pushed his arm away. 

“I’m like 10 years younger than you Gramps” 

“And I’ll always take care of you because of it” Soft tones of sincerity radiated from the Spymaster, his usual sarcasm towards you banished for a moment of truth. 

“Until you get old and frail and I send you to a retirement camp, you have about five good years left my friend” He shoved you back with a laugh, moment over. 

Another hour of so of what felt like aimless walking culminated in the both of you scaling prehistoric trees to settle in the canopy for rest, safe from the creatures roaming below in search of their next meal. 

Leaks of light snuck through the budding Spring flush of growth, crossing Azriel’s eyes until he stirred from his sleep. He sat up from his hammock, to look over to the adjacent tree to find your sling empty. 

“YN?” He yawned out, stretching as the branches creaked with the movement, your lack of reply had him calling out again. Azriel’s boots nearly split the soil on landing as he tried his best to keep his imagination from running away with his logic. He always woke up first and always had to haul you from your sleep, you were famously not a morning person. He called louder into the forest, listening back for any reply or clue as to where you’d run off to. He found his step quicken to match his heartbeat as he transversed great ground quickly. Light flashed around him as he found the edge of one of Illyria's many mountainous lakes, to see your silhouette floating in the centre of it. 

“YN!” He roared out, no response from you as his imagination very much took control. Without full consciousness, he tossed his over jacket to the ground, his heavy boots taking a spot next to it as he waded quickly into the silty lake, still calling for you. His feet could no longer touch the muddy bottom as he reached you in the centre of the still lake.

“YN!!!” A marred hand met your abdomen as the other found your lower back beneath the water, forcing your body up where you jolted out of your trance, thrashing water as you kicked your legs awake. 

“What the fuck you frightened me!” You pushed back from his hold, wrapping your arms around your waist, your snowy tank top clinging to your wet skin.

“You frightened me! What are you doing out here?” He pushed his wet hair from his face, allowing the colour to return to his face. 

“I was getting the moss and leaves out of my hair after yesterday’s little escapades, no need to lose your head” You shot back, before beginning to swim back to shore.

“I was calling for you! I thought something terrible happened to you!” Azriel allowed uncharacteristic anger to leech through his words as you both met the shore again. You turned your back to him as you wring out your hair, the drips of water creating mud in the dust. The soaked fabric clung to the fissures in your back where your wings once sat proudly, Azriel swallowed deeply at the sight, trying to keep the crime from inflating his anger further. You turned at his silence, noticing the path his eyes would have followed. 

“Something terrible already did happen Azriel” You bit, snatching your overshirt from the ground to shroud your scars, your shaking hands attempting to lock the buttons into place as the dots connected in Azriel’s head. 

“Is-is that why you don’t swim anymore? You don’t want people to see-to see what they did?” You looked up slowly through your eyelashes, hands on the final button before uprighting yourself completely. 

“The world should know what they did to me, what no amount of healer study I do can fix, what Tamlin’s fath- what that Court did to me, to my mother to my sister-” You bit out, the anger heating your skin seemingly drying the beads of water on your flesh “-and they will one day when Rhysand decides, when I am once again of use to my Court”

“YN, you’re of use now” he attempted to silence your inner voice escaping into the world, only to have you raise a palm. 

“To answer your question, no, that’s not why I don’t swim with you anymore, I don’t because Aruna loved it and the water feels wrong without our little sister-” Cold burning rage that Azriel was accustomed to seeing in Rhysand but never from you filled the space between you. 

“Now, let's go find that flower and go home, I’m not losing another sister” Azriel only nodded before leading the way back to the make-shift camp in contemplative silence. 

The next few hours carried that thematic silence through the woods, only the occasional check-in broke it up. You didn’t even comment when Azriel released multiple branches in your direction or when you definitely passed the same boulder twice. The soles of your shoes were leaving imprints on your feet but you stayed silent, refusing to give Azriel the satisfaction of being right when he told you to change your shoes. 

Azriel swung around to you on his heels as you released a blood-curdling scream from your exhausted lungs, a nearby bird fleeing the tree top at the raised alarm. His face lost any flush of colour as his eyes locked on the arrow piercing through your right thigh. He moved quickly to guide you to the floor as you screamed, blood spurting free from your flesh. In one swift movement, Azriel shielded you from another targeted arrow, it splicing one of the veins of his wings as he winced. 

“Azriel!” You cried, your shaking hand going towards the bloodied arrow. 

“Stay down!” He ordered, pulling some shrubbery over you as you crowed, his century-long training kicking into action as he launched in the direction of the ammunition. Tracking and trailing as fast as he could until he found the perpetrators, two members of the Hybern army armed to their teeth in weaponry. Azriel launched into swift movements, like a well-learned dance with vicious precision. 

Meanwhile, you snapped the long end of the arrow, leaving the cruel head with its teeth buried in your flesh. You pulled yourself up, desperate to follow the sounds of your best friend and his battle cry. Your hobbled step worked perfectly with your exhausted feet, sending you crashing for a second time this trip, down a bank to a stream. The welcomed thud of a great tree stopped you before you could enter the rushing water. You lifted your face from the squelch of the river clay, hazy eyes landing on a brilliantly blue flower, growing like a solitary soldier between ancient rocks. You groaned as you pushed up from the mud, your detour causing the head of the arrow to be pushed in further. You managed to snatch the lifeline from its home, tucking it into your pack before beginning your laboured ascent up the steep bank. The definition of an uphill battle as you fought against the overgrowth, using deep root systems like rescue ropes until you reached the mouth of the bank again. Your faltering step carried you in the direction of the Spymaster, who was deep in his own entanglement. You watched as Azriel slashed the leg of one soldier before pressing the other into a knotty tree trunk, his blood soon covering Azriel as Truth Teller dealt its fatal blow. 

“Azriel!” You shrieked in warning as the other soldier regained some strength, just as Azriel turned to your voice, a green-soaked blade slid into the Shadowsinger’s wing releasing pressurised blood systems.  The advantage didn’t last very long before Truth Teller claimed another victim, the soldier slumping to the ground with a final breath. Azriel stumbled backwards, his adrenaline fleeting until the support of a large oak met his back, allowing him to slide to the cool ground. 

“Az!” You yelped, limping to collapse next to his side, pallor growing across his face. You ran a hand over the wound, bright scarlet mixing with the sickly poison of a blade. 

“I told, I told you to stay” He spoke with gritted teeth, attempting to sit more upright against the tree. 

“You know I try my best to never listen to you” You smiled weakly, tears beginning to threaten the rim of your eyes as Azriel’s head dipped to fall on his chest. You moved quickly to prop his head up, his eyelids like lead as the poison worked through his system.

“We have to get you help, we have to get back”

“I-I can’t winn-ow both of-of us” Huffs of air left Azriel.

“Winnow yourself, I’ll figure it out” He lifted a heavy eyelid open, looking down to find your wound weeping fresh blood, swirling into his own. 

“The-re there could be mor-more of them out here YN, you-you have to be the one to-to go” 

“No!” You began digging through your pack, pouring the canteen of drinking water you had over his wound, trying to flush as much of the sick serum out as you could. The cobalt shimmer of the flower caught your eye again as you dug through for more water, looking from its bright colour to the dullness in your best friend. You began mashing it up into the lid of the canteen, its healing powers flowing into the water as you shook the two lifelines together. 

“YN you-you found it”

“I did Az and you’re going to drink it” He pushed away slightly from you. 

“Its-its for Feyre, get it to Feyre”

“I’ll figure that out, you need it Az” You held the lid of the canteen to his lips, Azriel turning his head from it despite his screaming nerves calling out for its relief. 

“Kid, it’s too-too valuable, give it to Feyre”

“You’re too valuable Az! I’m not losing you too, for once in your Godsdamn life don’t fight me! Let me look after you for once!” You grabbed the nape of his neck, tilting his head back to help the liquid into his mouth despite his futile protests. The sacred serum swirled through his system, like a torch in a blackout, defending off the tar-like liquid that tried to clog his system. You took your overshirt from your skin, ripping the clean sections free to soak in the remaining drips in the lid before applying it to the wound. 

“No YN, use-use it on yourself” He tried his best to push your arm away, unable to find the strength to allow you to make contact with the tattered spine. Unbeknownst to you, in your adrenaline-fueled state, your trousers were becoming laden with the blood spurting from your wounds. You sat back on your ankles, two Azriels dancing in your double-vision. You forced your eyes close, trying to banish one of the Azriels away, the swirl of blood loss becoming a bit too much as you fell back on your side, using a weakened arm to prop yourself up. 

“YN! You’re okay Kid! You’re gonna be okay, stay awake” Azriel turned himself onto his knees, his strength finding its way back to him as his hands met the soft skin of your cheeks, blood leaving them to rush towards your open wound. 

“I knew you’d be the death of me” You gave a weak laugh, your head rocking slightly from side to side. Azriel gave a small smile before closing the space between you, his medicinal-soaked lips meeting your frosted ones. Pulses of energy beat between you both, like everything that has ever happened both good and bad didn’t matter before this moment, each other’s lifeline in every sense. The traces of the river flower pulled you back from the brink with the essence of Azriel’s every being guiding you home. Shadows leapt around you both, pulling you both through the space until cool, clean stone laid under your legs. Azriel pulled back from you, his thumbs tracing over your cheeks as your eyes fluttered open. 

“Are you kissing my sister?” Rhysand stood from his desk to look down at his closest allies, in a ball on his office floor. Cassian leapt to help you up, lying you down on the chaise before Rhysand went to pull Azriel to his own feet. 

“It-it was to save her life” Azriel had thoughts of wishing the arrow had finished him off. 

“Likely story” Rhysand laughed, guiding his dear friend to his desk chair before sending for Madja. Cassian busied inspecting your battle wounds.

“We were attacked and-and they poisoned me and YN she-”

“-she gave you the flower?” Rhysand sank to Azriels eyelevel, searching for answers in the stormy eyes of the Spymaster. Azriel nodded gently, his head hanging in both shame and exhaustion. 

“It's okay Azriel, I wanted it for my mate, YN wanted it for hers” Azriel’s head shot back up to look at the High Lord's grinning face. Rhysand raised his hand to his face, making a locking motion at his lips before standing again, Madja quick on the scene to help. 

—-------------------

5 years later 

Azriel stood at the water's edge, the small lapping of the lake at his feet, the sun warming his wings as he stretched in the healing heat, a small V-shaped scar left in one of the spines. He allowed his eyes to fall close, inhaling the scents of the forest and the whoosh of the gentle breeze. 

“Argh!” He flinched at the sudden wave of cold water meeting his face, rubbing it from his eyes until he opened to see you stood, waist-deep in the lake and laughing. 

“You’re dead” He laughed before wading in as you roared with laughter, attempting to swim away from him to your friends. You took Nyx from Cassian’s arms as Azriel reached you. 

“I have the baby!” You laughed. 

“Oh weak move YN, hiding behind a child” He tilted his head back in laughter, Nyx kicking water up at his uncle, his own fit of giggles leaving him. 

“Not you too Kid! Betrayal!” Azriel chuckled, wiping the water from his face that Nyx quickly replaced again. You hugged Nyx close into your chest, Azriel paddling closer to you, his arms wrapping around the both of you, his hands tracing down the scars on your back, melting into the deep fissures on his hands, making the skin feel whole again. 

“Hey Az! Someone’s awake!” Rhysand called from the shoreline before bending down to the travel cot, pulling your baby from her cocoon, still swaddled in plush towelling. Cassian took Nyx from your arms before tossing him high in the air, Feyre immediately lecturing him. You and Azriel went laughing to the shore again, stray splashes escaping you both. Azriel took the baby from his brother's arms, kissing her head softly as she looked up at him, his entire world. 

“Hello Flower” 

-------------------------------------

Whatcha think?

ALSO! There are over 500 of you lovelies!!?? That's so crazy!!! Thank you so much for all of your kind words and support my friends! -C

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Prey 2

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, includes violence, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: while out on a hunt, you become the hunted.

Characters: Kraven the Hunter (viking AU)

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

Voices stir in the air with the taste of salt. The coast isn’t far. It hardly matters where you are. You know it’s far from your mother’s hovel. What’s more, you are trapped. Bound and draped over this man’s shoulder like a slain deer. 

You writhe, trying to kick free of his grasp. He keeps his arm firmly hooked around your legs. In response to your struggle, he strikes your haunch. You grumble and exhale against his hide jacket. From his other shoulder, a bunch of rabbit dangle; the ones he stole from your traps. 

He is silent still. He grunts but it is not angry. It is dulcet, as if he is amused. 

You wiggle again, trying to see past him as the murmur grows louder. There are others near. The mulch of dirt beneath boots and the stakes set between lengths of rope suggest a camp. A figure approach but you are blinded by the back of your captor. 

“We discovered scavengers near the forest. They have been dispatched.” The man informs the one who carries you. A similar grumble meets the news. “They are rampant in these parts.” 

Yet another dull rumble. He proceeds past the other with undaunted steps. By your measure, he is deferred to, if not a leader, at least a feared warrior. 

You turn your head this way and that. Pits burn beneath boiling pots or simply amid the cluster of bodies whetting blade or carving bone. A whole horde of warriors like the one who ensnared you. They glance back at you and several give pause as they linger. 

There are women too but they pay little mind. They are dressed as the men are, sat beside shield and blade. You bend your knees in an attempt to ram them into the man’s ribs. You know it would do little to truly free you but as fate closes in, so too does desperation. 

On and on. Men look over and dip their heads or avert their gaze. Their reactions all but assure you of the sort of beast that carries you. 

He bends and enters a tent behind a pit. In an instant, you are swung up and back. You land on the ground so hard the air rushes from your chest. You wheeze as the man snickers. You cough and roll onto your side. Your fingers tingle from the tight binding around your wrist and your legs chafe in your leggings. 

He moves around you to sit on his pack. You watch him unsling the rabbits and unsheath a short blade from his belt. He diligently begins to skin his stolen game. For a moment, you wonder if you should be next. 

Silently, he carries on in his task until he is done. The prepared hare are laid in a wide wooden bowl. He stands and wipes the knife on his jacket. He comes close and squats as he presses the tip to his calloused finger. 

You stare at the knife then look at him. You lift your head and stare him down. He chuckles and slips the knife back into its sheath. 

He reaches for you and you scowl. He touches your cheek, his roughened fingertips brushing down to your chin. He cups his hand under your jaw and squeezes firmly. He makes you sit up as he examines you. He turns your head this way, then the other. 

He lets go and flips his hand. He brings his other up to pull apart the collar of your tunic. He clucks in his throat and yanks until the laces snap. You tense and try to shake him off as he stretches the fabric to look past it. He moves one hand to fondle you. He grunts as you do the same and stomp your feet towards him. 

He makes a noise between his teeth and taps your cheek then points in your face. You still. He feels along your chest and your torso. He kneads your stomach and frames your waist. You growl and gnash your teeth. He shoves his hand between your legs and hums. You twitch. 

“Healthy,” he appraises. The first word he speaks. His voice is silty like the shores. His blue grey eyes meet your glare and he smirks. “Could eat.” 

You’re not sure what he means. If you could do with a good meal or he could. He flutters his fingers before drawing away. He goes back to the bowl of rabbits and lifts it. He leaves, knowing you can’t do the same. 

You gulp. There’s no mistake to be made. It’s certain why you are here. You are game too but your end is not so swift as the hare. 

The warm of his hand clings between your legs. It makes you shudder. You look down at the slack tunic. Your heart pounds against your ribs. He felt that too. 

You curl your fingers but not all the way. The straps are too tight. Your legs ache from the friction between them and your spine throbs rigidly. You shift up onto your knees and wobble. You try to shuffle forward on knee and toe. You fall over with a thump and a groan. 

The man laughs from outside. You know is at your expense, that he can hear you through the hide walls. It is all futile, he knows it as well as you. But it isn’t funny to you. It is terrifying. 

You lay on the floor, beside the disposed pile of fur. You smell the blood. You close your eyes and shudder. You are not used to being the one caught in a trap. 

[charnelhouse]

eyes on me

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader Wordcount: 2.4k Warnings: sex pollen. dubious consent. smut in a chair. snake bites. hurt/comfort Summary: Ghost takes care of you, and you return the favor. A/N: this is for all you ghost fuckers in my inbox. ily.

It’s his eyes. Black holes. No stars. The face paint doesn’t help, brands them to embers.

He terrifies you. This hulking behemoth of a man. There’s nothing there but pulsing adrenaline, a dexterity for killing. You watch him smoothly plunge a knife through the tough shell of a terrorist’s skull. It goes in like butter. His strength is so inhuman that you think he was built in a lab. Maybe, he was. 

He’s a blank slate.  There’s only Simon Riley. 

There’s only Ghost. 

At first, the others treat you like a sorority girl. They treat you like you’re some grand dame duchess because you don’t look the part. Ghost never says anything. Not a word.

They end up biting their tongues when you behead a Russian Oligarch and take out his entire security team bullet by bullet. By the time the team reaches you, there’s a thick sheen of blood painting your face, a hitch in your breathing, and you might have a stab wound, but it’s fine. 

They look at you brand new. They call you Red Fox.

“Cute,” Soap remarks. “But aggressive as shit.”

“They’re full of rabies.”

“Exactly.”

It’s Ghost who barges into that room first. He stops in his tracks, tilting his head as those skull eyes regard you silently. Your eardrum has burst from the gunshots. Your finger is quivering around a trigger. There’s the taste of pennies and rain.

Focus. Focus. Focus. 

He’s staring, cataloging the room and your work. His gaze is so hard and unforgiving that you think he will squeeze you into a diamond. Brilliant. Shiny. Scintillating like a thousand stars. 

He jerks his head. “C’mon, lass. Time to go.”

***

He’s disarmingly unpredictable. He’s prickly and blunt but will turn around and carry you five miles to safety without complaint. 

You get bitten by a snake when you’re deep in the forest. There’s the smell of mulch and damp and soggy leaves, and the sun trickles through narrow branches. You follow him, attention pinned to the center of his back. He’s so tall that he has to duck. He bleeds into shadows. 

You’re so busy thinking about who Ghost is that you don’t realize where you’re stepping until pain ripples up your leg. You glance down at the sandy-brown snake that curls back into itself. Its head is shaped like an arrow, and a cool burn immediately begins to settle in your limbs. You inhale sharply as you stumble forward. Venomous. You’re fucked. They’re so far out. 

Ghost must hear you stagger because he whips around, the leaves crunching under your boots. “What is it, Fox?”

“Snake,” you choke out, and it really fucking hurts. 

“Red,” he says softly as he steps in your direction. “Hey, calm down. You gotta keep a straight head, so the venom doesn’t travel too quickly.”

Ghost is all business. He calls evac. He rips into someone about not having antivenom on hand, and you want to point out that that shit is expensive, but you’re going dizzy. You’re clammy and nauseous, and Ghost easily lifts you and places you on a rock. He tugs your boot off, your holster, removing anything constricting the area. He rips your pants so he can study the bite. Two tiny pricks that bead blood tears. You can’t read his face. It’s barren as a black sand beach. You do notice how big his eyes are, even against all that inky paint. He has blonde lashes. 

He grips your foot and elevates your leg, allowing it to rest on his tree trunk of a thigh. The rest of the team spreads out around them, blending into the brush with their camouflage. You can only see Ghost, who keeps glancing at you to ensure you haven’t started coughing up blood.

He touches your knee, sliding fingers along your calf, and it’s so unlike him, but it’s as if he’s trying to soothe your unsettled heartbeat.

You wiggle your toes. “Sir,” you say, and he raises his head. “You could suck the venom out.”

His stroking abruptly halts, seemingly stunned. He squints at you. “That-that doesn’t work.”

“I know.”

You think he might be smiling. “Is that some roundabout way of flirting with me?”

You nod. “Brought the snake out here and everything.” 

It’s okay for a minute. It’s bearable until it suddenly isn’t. 

Your vision clouds, and your body sways, but his broad hand engulfs your shoulder. It anchors you to the ground and centers your gravity. “Stay with me, yeah?” 

His voice is gravel and black tea. You brought him Yorkshire Gold from the store once, and he shook his head but took it anyway.

“I don’t feel good,” you slur as you press your hand to your brow. 

“Fox,” he says, a little aggressively. “You fucking keep those eyes on me.” 

You do it,  and it's startling because it’s so naked and strange, and the others are probably watching them have this intimate stare-off, and it feels like he’s pressing inside you, stretching your cunt until you erupt into shattered fragments of glistening snake scales.

Oh my god. You like him. 

You want him. Your lieutenant. 

The realization twists your heart into overdrive. You panic, blood rushing into your ears and dragging that poison all over. Ghost shoots forward, hand cupping the back of your skull as his thumb digs into the flesh beneath your ear.

He says your real name. He whispers it in a voice that is dipped in frustration. He clicks his tongue, hushing you like he’s trying to coax a spooked horse. You wonder if he’s ridden a horse. You wonder who he is or what he’s done, and how can you like a shadow of a person? A ghost?

His hand on your scalp is so warm. He’s got bedroom eyes that dip as they search yours. “Stay alert, love,” he says so quietly that none of the others can hear. “It’s an order.”

***

You shoulder your way into the room where you’d tracked Ghost’s last location. The whole mission has been a fucking mess, and while the room is covered in corpses, Ghost doesn’t look very triumphant.  He’s hunched over, coughing and sputtering through the fabric of his mask.

You rapidly scan the rest of the room for additional threats. It’s a lab. There’s a medical exam chair. The air tastes like sour candy, dusty as if someone showered the floor in flour. Nothing feels right. 

You maneuver over the various dead men to reach Ghost. When you touch his neck, he jolts. He jerks his head up to look at you, and his consciousness is seemingly gone. He’s sweating profusely, and his chest rises and falls at a frenzied speed. You grab his face. “What is it?”

“Neurotoxin,” he breathes before he coughs again. “Fucking guy got me before I shot him.”

You nod as you try to think about what to do. How quickly can you save him? How deadly is it?

“Remember Compound X back in Siberia?”

You twist around, mouth falling open. “The one for the breeding program.”

“Yeah,” he mutters, swaying and nearly toppling forward. You lunge for him, hands on his shoulders to support his weight. Your eyes drift down to his crotch, where he is visibly aroused. 

How long does he have until it makes his heart stop? 

Slowly, you guide him toward the medical exam chair. You sit him down, and he has enough strength to lift his head and look at you. Your decision must be written across your face because he tries to pull away. 

“No,” he growls. 

“You don’t have a choice.”

“We have time.”

“No, we don’t,” you argue. “It’s the fastest way to get that toxin out of your system.”

He huffs a laugh. Exasperated. Torn up. You know that poison is shutting down all of his control. He’s going to turn down a road you can’t pull him out from if they keep wasting precious minutes.

“Didn’t want it like this,” he mumbles as he rubs the hard surface of his mask. He sits back, loosening a breath. “There’s handcuffs in my gear.”

You frown. “For?”

Ghost wraps his arms around the back of the exam chair. His enormous body is almost comically big in comparison. “I-I don’t know what I’ll do if I have you under me. I can’t-can’t control myself. It’ll be safer.”

Something hot pulses between your legs at the idea of him breaking you open. It’s fucked up and wrong, but it warms your belly. There are parts of you that have wanted him to fuck you against a wall or slide into your cunt when they’re stuck together in their tent on missions.

Covertly. His hand on your mouth.

That isn’t what this is though. He needs your help, and you think about how he took care of you when that snake bit your leg or when everyone else doubted you. 

You find the handcuffs and place them on his wrists. He shudders when you brush your knuckles across his forearm. It’s rippling muscle and tattoos. A skull.

“Fox,” he says. His voice is lower, grating, and ragged. 

You walk around the chair to face him. You undo your pants and yank them off along with your underwear. He’s not in good shape. His face is damp with sweat, his pupils blown out. Fully dark. 

He groans your name. It spills out like shattered teeth as he repeats it.

You grip his shoulders, the tendons immediately shifting beneath your palm. You hitch one leg over to straddle him, the fabric of his pants rasping your bare thighs.

“We don’t have to,” he mutters. “I don’t want you to have-”

“Shut the fuck up, Simon,” you bite, and he does. His eyes widen a bit, a drop of white in all that black before they go desperate again. “Let me help you.”

It unnerved you to see him vulnerable. It looks like he’s been skinned alive and you can only access his soft, fleshy parts.

Give me your bones. Your organs. Your breath.

You undo his belt and his tac pants. You slide your hand inside and grip his already fully erect cock. You swallow as your fingers barely touch around the width of him. God. 

You rub your thumb over the tip. He’s leaking pre-cum and when your nail nips his skin, he shivers. Slowly you guide him forward, your knees uncomfortable digging into the chair's cushion as you hover above him. His dick nudges the sensitive folds of your cunt - a kiss.

“It’s okay,” you murmur. “It’s okay. I want this.”

Ghost audibly grits his teeth as you slowly sink onto him. He’s too big, the blunt head of his cock snags against your entrance, and you have to work yourself down. You breathe through your nose, brow furrowing as you shut your eyes and attempt to take him to the hilt. 

“Jesus Christ,” you hiss as he bucks, demanding more, needing more the second he feels the tight, slick clutch of your sex.

“Easy,” you try, gluing your forehead to his, skin slipping against the shell of his mask. “Easy, Simon.”

He nods haltingly and tries to slow his thrusts. He’s burning up with a fever and it’s still shocking how well he’s trying to hide it, keep it below the surface until it boils over. When you hit a good rhythm, you sigh, allowing yourself to relax and suck him deeper. 

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Feel good.”

You draw back to stare at him. Your hips roll in an even, almost mechanical tempo. He meets your gaze, his shoulders tensing and his biceps bulging against the strain of his handcuffed wrists. You watch each other, a breath between you as you circle your pelvis and ride him slow. The fabric of the balaclava rises with each word, and you imagine his mouth. Soft lips.

You touch the hard piece of his mask, thumb flexing against the blunt teeth. You want to lean down and kiss them, tongue each until they scratch and make you bleed. He is the skull, the mask, the alias that’s coated his truth until there is no Simon anymore. No family. No university stories or holidays or fucking around in a pub.

You flex your cunt, lower muscles bearing down as you grip him. He groans before he abruptly swallows it. The sex is starting to feel too good. There’s pleasure coiling behind your pussy, drifting like the tide as it holds to the shore. 

“Is it getting better?” you ask and his gaze slips from your face to where he’s burying himself in your tight cunt. 

He nods, but it’s not enough.

“Words, Lieutenant,” you demand. “Stay with me.”

His head jolts, his cock twitching deep.

Stay with me. Stay with me. Eyes on me. 

“Yeah,” he husks, voice thin and full of too much. “Yeah, Fox. I’m - It’s better.”

You briefly wonder if it will be painfully awkward after this. Maybe, he’ll transfer you. Maybe, he’ll never speak to you again. But you can’t care. His life is on the line. You’re sucking out the poison. 

You cling to him, desperate and a little dizzy. He’s so big and you’re so full, packed to the brim as his cock drags against your walls. 

Your orgasm takes you by surprise. It’s the rough graze of his pants against your clit, the depth of his penetration hitting something buried in your body's core. You lurch against him, arms wrapping around his neck as a whimper escapes. You go boneless, all loose and wet, and you feel his nose press into your cheek, his masked mouth sliding against your jaw as he grinds into you. 

“Ss’good,” he utters quietly. “So tight, love.”

He's barely made any noises beyond guttural, low grunts, or heavy breathing. You think he could be trying to collar the situation and hold himself back. No confessions.

But then, he plants his feet and begins to really fuck you. He pistons his hips and slams up until there is only the sound of your soaked cunt swallowing him repeatedly along with slapping skin. “Fucking hell.” He grunts. “Jesus.”

It’s a brutal taking, and you aren’t soaked enough. It’s a rasp and a chafe, and you’re raw as you take what he gives you. “Good girl,” he says against your tits. “Good fucking girl.” He’s still powerful, even with his hands locked behind his back. He’s fully claiming you, hips lifting as his cock punches up against the furthest part of your core.

“Simon,” you say. “Come for me. I know you need to.”

His voice catches on a sound. It’s all from his belly, low and deliberate as his length begins to throb, sheathed to the hilt. He stiffens. The warm rush of his spend fills you.

It goes and goes as you straddle him, allowing every last drop. As soon as it’s over, you try to draw away, give him space. “Don’t you dare, lass,” he protests, clear and streaked in the remaining flash of that feverish pollen. “I think I’ll need you again.”

You blink down at him, surprised. 

“Stay with me,” he clarifies, ducking his head as he shifts beneath your weight. When he lifts his face, his eyes spark. A few stars. 

[whispersingojo]

You’re gonna be ok

Content ✮ angst, fluff, blood, medical equipment/hospitalization, teen!Satoru x teen!reader

Summary ✮ you were thrown into a coma instantly upon impact, your life flashing before your eyes while Satoru races against the clock to save your life, but at what cost?

Word count ✮ 3.8k

Feel free to read Part 1 to understand the story more!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You felt at peace.

Weightless.

Calm.

Cold.

So…damn cold.

As you opened your eyes you found yourself in your childhood bedroom, well, one of many. The warm morning sun peaked through the curtains as the blew in the morning wind. The walls painted that terrible, sad yellow color. Your bookshelves filled with different stories from all over the world, written in all their different languages.

Your mother was a traveler. A woman who found all places on the earth her home. If she wasn’t touching the freshly cut grass between her toes, breathing in the cool, refreshing night air, she didn’t want it.

“Morning sweetie,” your mother spoke. You could hear her smile, “I got you some breakfast from the bakery! It’s your favorite!~” your mother came and sat on the bed with you.

You sat up so she wouldn’t sit on your feet. You held your hands out and she placed the pastry in your hands, crumbs falling all over your comforter.

You didn’t feel right, but you didn’t know why. You knew there was something off. You couldn’t remember how you got here or what happened before now. But you smiled, that feeling slowly slipping away, “thanks, mom. Looks amazing,” you took a bite of the pastry, taking in all the sweetness, all the saltiness.

“So…” your mothers face perked up, “what do you wanna do today?”

“Hm?” You responded, licking your thumb clean, “oh umm…I dont know. Maybe a walk?”

“Sounds perfect. While you finish up here, I’ll go get our stuff packed so we can catch our flight tonight, ‘kay?”

You loved your mother. The way she always knew how to make you feel better, how to make you laugh you felt you never could again. The way she always picked the best spot for brunch. It felt like you really needed that right now, but you couldn’t tell why.

Once you finished up the pastry, you sat up and began get ready for the day. You walked over to the bathroom, feeling the cold, small checker tiled floor beneath your toes. As you turned on the water, you felt your mothers eyes on you.

“Here’s so new clothing, thought you might need them before I closed up the suitcases. Just set your dirty ones out the door. Love you sweetie.”

“Thanks mom, love you too.”

As you began taking off your clothing, you heard someone yell your name in the distance. It sounded like they were scared? You snapped your head around, looking for whoever yelled for you. It didn’t sound like your mother, but it sounded like a man. A man you felt you’ve heard the voice of before, but couldn’t quite match a face to.

You shook off the feeling and finished getting undressed, throwing the clothing in front of the bathroom door.

Once your shower was over, you hopped out and began drying yourself off, then getting dressed.

As you brushed your teeth, you felt a pain in your chest. It was a light, easily forgettable pain. You rubbed your chest a little, trying to ease the soft ache. Soon enough it was gone.

You spat the toothpaste remnants into the sink and walked out, going to meet your mother by the front door. Of course she was there waiting for you. She helped you put away your toothbrush and some other toiletries, and rezipped the suitcase.

“Ready for our walk?”

“I was born ready,” the two of you laughed as you walked out the door.

(Y/n)!

It felt like you blinked and suddenly you were walking through a forest, listening to the trees hiss in the wind. As the mulch crunched between your shoes, you looked over at your mother, who was also enjoying the scenery and listening to the birds sing.

You began to remember more about the years you’ve spent with your mother traveling the world. The two of you started when you were very young, about 6 or 7.

She pulled you out of school, telling you that school was to restricting for a child as wonderous as you. You said goodbye to all your friends, and then you were off. You had to admit, you loved traveling with her. But you missed the mundane. You missed going to school, you missed homework and studying.

You stopped walking.

“Everything of sweetie?” Your mother asked you, turning around to face you.

“Mom…” your eyes welled up in tears.

“Oh sweetie what’s wrong?” She cupped your cheeks in the palms of her hands, wiping away the falling tears.

“I don’t wanna leave…”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” you choked on your tears, “I wanna start being normal again…I don’t wanna travel anymore. I wanna have real friends, a routine…I wanna have a boyfriend or a girlfriend…I wanna go to school and…and,” you couldn’t hold yourself up anymore, falling to your knees. Your mother followed, “I know you must be upset- you must be thinking how ungrateful I am- how anyone my age would love to be doing what I’m doing but-“

“Sssssh baby it’s ok,” she brought you to her chest as you cried, and so did she, “I would never be upset with you for voicing your feelings baby…” she began to rock back and forth slightly, “I’ll do whatever in my power to give you everything and more of what you want, and I promise you that,” she pulled your face away from her chest, “I know someone who I can call who can get you back into schooling…you’re a very smart kid and I know you’ll do just fine without me,”

She pecked your forehead with a kiss, “don’t you forget about me, ok?”

“Ok…I love you mom,”

“I love you too, sweetie,”

So damn cold.

~~~ Satoru’s POV ~~~

It felt like Satoru couldn’t breathe. Satoru had been chasing around damn curse for what felt like hours to him, but finally it had been exercised. Satoru looked around at the destroyed neighborhood around him, watching as the sun finally began to shine over the buildings.

He spat blood onto the pavement, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. Satoru gave myself a second to take a deep breathe and calm down, before remembering you were still bleeding to death.

He ran into a building he purposely lead the curse away from. Satoru had carried your body into a bedroom and laid you down so that youd be more comfortable. When he rushed in, it look liked you had thrown up more blood while unconscious.

This told him he had to act fast. He put to fingers to the nape of your neck and leaned in close to your mouth with his ear.

Your breath and heartbeat were so faint he could barely feel it.

“Please- hold on for me,” he scooped you into his arms, holding you tightly as he began to run.

He felt like he had never ran so fast in his life. Hot tears began forming in hiss eyes as he prayed to whatever the hell was up there to keep you alive. He gripped you tighter, holding you close to his chest.

As Satoru ran, he began to see Yaga in the distance, which surprised him, not expecting to see him here. He didn’t have time to think about that, he was just grateful to see him.

Yaga saw you in Satoru’s arms, and began yelling thing that Satoru couldn’t understand. When he reached them, a few medics ran up to him, but he couldn’t hear them. His ears were ringing, blocking all other noise.

One medic tried to take you from his arms, but he just held you closer to his chest. He didn’t allow anyone to take you away from him. Satoru looked down at your almost lifeless body, his tears falling onto your school uniform. Even in this state, you looked so beautiful.

Satoru fell to his knees, still holding you as tight. Your blood dripped slowly, trailing down Satoru’s hand and arms. He removed his hand from your lower back and pulled your face in close,

“please stay with me…I-“ he choked on his words, inhaling harshly, “I can’t do this without you…”

Yaga put a hand on Satoru’s shoulder, “the only way we’re gonna be able to save them is if you let us. That means you have to let go and let us take them back to the school,”

Satoru looked up at him, your blood and his tears smeared across his skin. He knew Yaga was right, but he was so scared that you’d disappear if he let go.

He looked down at you, taking in at his peaceful you looked, before slowing letting go in you.

The medics sprung into action, pulling you away from Satoru and into a medical van.

Yaga knelt down next to Satoru, reapplying his hand to his shoulder, “they’re gonna be fine- now get up and let’s get you back to the school as well.”

Not only was your life flashing before your eyes, so was his.

~~~ Your POV ~~~

“‘Toru! Fuck off!” You laughed as you were being soaked by a water gun.

“How about you fight back! I’m barely wet!” He continued chasing you around the courtyard, before his water gun eventually ran out of water.

You both looked at each other, standing completely still. You slowly began raising your water run and pointing it at him.

He put his hands and the water gun up, “hey now- we can talk about this,” Satoru slowly began to back up.

“Never!” You yelled, beginning to chase after him and spraying him.

You both laughed, enjoying the last day of year 3 in Jujutsu High. It had been pretty stress free the past couple of days, so you two wanted to make the best of it. You both tried to convince Suguru and Shoko to join, but they had already made plans to go into the city to shop.

So here you two were, playing like little kids with your water guns.

As you were chasing Satoru, you tripped on a rock and fell. You did your best to not catch yourself, not wanting to break your wrists trying. You hit the ground pretty hard, even slid a little.

Satoru stopped running, turning around to look at you. He laughed for a second, walking over to you, “you ok, short stuff?” He reached out his hand to you.

You looked up at him. You stared at him for a moment, admiring his blue eyes through his glasses. You began to admire other parts about him that you hadn’t noticed till now. How his lips seemed so soft, pondering how’d they tasted against yours. Your heart began to race with all these thoughts.

“What you staring at?”

“You of course, what else what I’d be admiring?”

“I’ve always loved how direct you are…now get up before Yaga finds us and yells at us,”

You took is hand, but instead of pulling yourself up, you pulled him down to you,

“Woah!” He yelped, landing right on top of you.

You two stared at one another for a moment. Your faces were so close you could feel one another’s breaths. Your face filled with blush, the tips of your ears grew hot, and so did Satoru.

You wanted to close the gap and kiss his seemingly soft lips so badly.

Satoru cleared his throat, “well uh- we should probably get dried off,”

“Right,”

Satoru pushed himself up and off of you, offering his hand. This time you took it and pulled yourself up. The two of you walked back in awkward silence to your rooms, parting ways without a word.

After you had gotten dried up, you began to wonder the halls in search of Satoru. Your hair was still damp, unable to completely dry your it. You walked for a little before bumping into Suguru, who was just about to enter into his room.

“Suguru!” You ran up to him, “how was your shopping trip with Shoko?”

He looked over to you with the same bland and expression, but smiled like he was happy to see you, “it was good. Shoko got you something, so you should talk to her before she goes to bed.”

“Aww that’s so nice of her, I’ll make sure to keep that in mind. Hey have you seen Satoru? I have to talk to him.”

“Oh, well I haven’t seen him actually. But I would try the roof, he likes to sit up there sometimes.”

“Got it, thank you so much, Suguru!” You waved him off and you went to search for Satoru.

As you made it to the top of the roof, you could see Satoru sitting on the ledge. He had one leg dangling off and the other perched up close to his chest.

“Hey, pancake,” Satoru could sense you standing behind him.

“That’s a new one,” you giggled, taking a seat next to him, ��beautiful sunset.”

“Not as beautiful as you,” Satoru leaned his head to look at you.

“‘Toru…”

“Yeah?”

You looked over at him, the sun dancing delicately over his skin. He looked so perfect, “what are we?”

He was a bit taken aback by what your question, “what do you mean?”

“I mean…” you sighed, not wanting to explain yourself, “what am I to you? What are we? I’m starting to get confused…”

Satoru looked away, blush forming lightly on his cheeks, “I don’t know…” he mumbled, “what do you want us to be?” He looked back at you.

You looked down over the edge, swinging your feet and avoiding eye contact, “maybe…” your hand inched closer to his, “maybe I want something more?” You finally looked at him, watching as the suns night orange dimmed against him.

“I’m sorry but…I don’t think I’m quite ready for a relationship…” he replied, grabbing your hand, “but I wouldn’t mind being closer to you, in due time.”

You looked away, small tears forming in your eyes. You felt regretful, “ok, I’ll wait for you then, ok?”

Satoru put his arm around you, pulling you in close, “ok…”

As you closed your eyes and took in a deep breath, when you reopened then a bright light blinded you. You squinted, unable to handle this bright light. You blinked a few times, adjusting to the light.

As your eye’s adjusted, you realized you were in a hospital room and on a ventilator. You had very little memory of what happened before you ended up here, it was all a blur. You attempted to move your head, your neck was stiff and ached. You were able to see all the machines you were hooked up to. You guessed that whatever had happened to you was pretty major.

You turned your head to the other side, seeing Satoru asleep in a reclining chair with a blanket over him. He was facing towards you, so you were able to see his face. You noticed how dry his eyes looked, he must of been crying a whole lot. You tried to move your arm to reach out to him, but you were far too weak.

You resorted to making small grunting sounds, hoping it would wake him up. His eyes shot open immediately, sitting up.

“You’re awake, holy shit you’re away!” He jumped out of the recliner, nearly tripping as he came out to you.

You gave him an extremely weak smile, which he smiled back at, “I’m gonna go get a doctor- so we can get that thing out of you,” he leaned down, giving you a kiss on your forehead and ran out of the room yelling for someone.

When the doctor came in, he was a bit shocked to say the least. He came up to you, putting on gloves, “well hello there! How you feeling?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, knowing you can’t respond.

The doctor chuckled, “yeah I figured you’d give me that look. How about we get this ventilator out of ya’. How does that sound?”

You gave a weak nod as he undid the straps, “now this is gonna be less than comfortable, so don’t hit me when we’re done,” the doctor began pulling the tube out, which made you gag and cough. Once it was out, you let out one last hearty cough before laying your head back down. That throughly sucked.

“So I want to talk about what happened, so that you’re all caught up,” the doctor pulled up a chair next to your bed and sat down.

You looked over at Satoru, who looked down at you at the same time. He gave you a smile, clasping his hand over yours. You had regained enough strength to grip it gently. You looked back at the doctor, ready to listen.

“So when you two were fighting the cursed spirit, you had been hit right through the chest into both of your lungs. That alone should’ve killed you pretty quickly. But because of your cursed technique, you went into fight and solidified your blood around the holes, keeping you alive just long enough to make it here.”

You were pretty shocked to hear that, not knowing your curse techniques was capable of something like that.

“Though, you did get thrown into a tree, which broke your neck upon impact. Between you laying there and getting here, something had happened and it caused you to be temporarily paralyzed from the waist down,” the doctor spoke in a soft tone, knowing this news was going to be hard to hear, “but with some physical therapy, you’ll be back to good a new!”

You let out a sigh of relief, looking back over at Satoru with a smile. But your smile faded when you noticed-

He wasn’t looking at you.

“I’ll give you to some time to yourselves. I’ll be back in later with the physical therapist team,” the doctor preceded to get up and leave, closing the door behind him.

“‘Toru?” You rasped out, your voice extremely harsh.

“I’m sorry…” his voice sounded so harsh, shaky. Was he crying?

“For what? You didn’t do-“

“I’m the reason you’re paralyzed…I was so stupid,” he wiped his eyes with his sleeve, “I was just so scared of loosing you I went as fast as I could back to everyone…” he was sobbing at this point.

Your heart broke seeing him like this. You never wanted to see him cry, let alone be so upset with himself.

“You’ve been in a coma for month, the doctors told me you might never wake up…I couldn’t stand myself- how careless I was with you. I’ve spent every waking moment in this hospital waiting for you to wake up,” he looked back at you, his cheeks stained with tears, “I’m sorry you must hate me,”

“I could never hate you,” you responded, pushing yourself up in the bed with what little strength you had, “I’m here now, aren’t I? You saved me regardless of whether or not you think so,” you put a hand to his cheek.

He leaned into it, putting his hand over yours, “I was so scared…” his eyes were tightly closed, stopping himself from crying.

“I said I’d wait for you didn’t I?” You began crying too, but because you were happy to be alive. Happy to be here with him.

He looked at you and laughed quietly, “yeah…and you better not ever break that promise.”

“I could never,” you smiled up at him.

You two laughed and cried happy tears for a bit. You hoped to heal the part of him that hated himself for everything that happened. But you were taking it one step at a time, pun intended. You had started physical therapy not long after you woke up. They allowed Satoru to help you too, as per your request of course. He couldn’t join you every day, since he had missions to attend. But you worked extra hard on the days he wasn’t there, wanting to be stronger and get stronger.

Soon enough you had started walking without the bars, only needing people to hold your hands. Satoru wasn’t here during this time, being sent out on a month long mission. You had made a ton of progress, working towards being able to walk without help.

You told Satoru that you’d meet him by the front door of the hospital when he came back, which you were doing now.

“Mmmmm I’m getting nervous,” you began tapping your fingers together as you waited

Shoko chuckled, “just be patient. Oh look at that he just texted me-“

“What he say?”

“He said he’s here what did you think he texted me,”

“Oh-“ you giggled to yourself.

Shoko walked out the glass front doors to meet Satoru outside. You saw them talking, then open the doors to come in.

“Now you stay here?” Shoko said, taking a step away from him.

“Why?” Satoru looked confused

“Because,” Shoko gestured over to you, who was now standing on their own.

Satoru looked shocked, not expecting this at all.

“Hi ‘Toru,” tears filled your eyes as you walked up to. You cupped his cheeks in your palms, wiping away his falling tears, “I got discharged today…I can come back to Jujutsu High,”

Satoru hugged you tightly, burying his face into the nape of your neck, “I’m so happy I didn’t lose you…”

You hugged back just as tight, “you could never lose me…”

You two stood there for a second in each others embrace, before pulling away. You started at each other, happy tears your eyes.

Satoru put a hand to your cheek, his thumb lightly rubbing your skin, “I love you.” he spoke softly, only loud enough for you to hear.

Blush scattered over your face, “am I finally done waiting?” You asked quietly, getting a bit excited.

“Yep, you are,” he leaned in close and kissed you. His lips were soft and sweet, just like how you thought they’d be. You leaned into the kiss, taking in this moment thoroughly. He was so gentle with you ever since the accident, but he was especially gentle with you now.

He leaned away, your faces both full of blush. Satoru began placing kisses all over your face, making you giggle, “will you be mine?”

“Mmmm I don’t know, what’s the pay like?”

“Oh fuck you,” he let go of you and turned around, “let’s go going Shoko.”

Shoko laughed, “ok,”

“Wait no I was joking!” You tried to keep up with them but you were to weak to run.

Satoru looked back at you, reaching his hand out you.

You smiled, reaching out and grabbing it tightly. He intertwined your fingers together, walking slowly with you behind Shoko.

You were happy, extremely happy actually. You leaned into Satoru, as did he into you. You knew you had a long way to go before you’d be able to go back on missions, but you were ok with that. As long as you had Satoru and the rest of your friends by your side, you knew you were gonna be ok.

“I love you too, Satoru.”

[tinydefector]

IRON GIANT 2

Optimus prime x human

Warnings: none.

Word count: 2.3k

Is this becoming one of my favourite pieces? Yes, it is. So enjoy more of the dadimus agender.

Optimus prime Masterlist

1

111

__________

It's nearly a week later when the sound of little footsteps echo through the forest again. Optimus had taken to using the cave as a sanctuary, he was away from people, war and causing anymore harm; it was his peaceful spot to coexist with the life of earth. He had taken to watching his step a lot more. 

"Oppy!, Oppy!" The voice of the child calls out in the forest from different areas of the small meadow. Optimus onlined his optics slowly as familiar foot fall neared, accompanied by an eager call he had not expected to hear again so soon. Unfurling from his rest against the cave wall, he peered out into the dappled forest light just in time to see the youngling break into the clearing, they continued calling out. 

"Here, little spark," he rumbled gently, not wishing to startle. His chassis gave a rumble of quiet amusement as they raced over to grasp a digit in childish enthusiasm, peering up at him through delicate facial features wrought only for joy and new discovery. 

"Oppy! I knew I'd find you!" they declared proudly, patting his hand. Pars working, I come to play! You wanna see berris? I picked pretty colours for you!" Bright optics shone with innocent invitation, as if this massive metal being was not so different from the little one smiling up at him. 

Settling back with a faint creak, Optimus regarded them fondly. "I would be honoured to see your findings, little one." The child slowly rummages through their pockets pulling out crumpled flowers, berries, rocks and dirt, eagerly showing it to the Large bot who's hand they sit on. "Oh look, look! I drew this for you!" They exclaimed as they pulled out a drawing. It's a crude yet adorable child drawing of Optimus. "It's You!" They state proudly.

Optimus gingerly accepted the well-worn offering, optics crinkling with gentle humour and affection as he examined the unmistakably drawing of himself, however simplified.

"You have quite the artistic talent, little spark," he rumbled warmly, carefully stowing the drawing within his chassis to keep safe. "I shall treasure this." 

As they continued showing findings, however, his sensors pinged softly, noting the absence of their guardian. Brightening optics subtly scanned the trees, playing drones searching for any signs of the guardian... but none appeared. 

A faint thread of concern wove through his field. "Little one, where did you leave your carrier today?" he asked gently after a moment. "Oh, oh! Pars at home. Just the other side of the meadow!," another toothy grin spreads across their face. 

Optimus is more worried about the young child wandering off without their guardians knowledge, he slowly walks out into the sunlight with them in his hand. anxiety rising though his systems. They were too young yet to wander so freely alone in the forest unguided. 

Stepping carefully out into the dappled sunlight, he turned optics down to them and rumbled in his gentlest tones, "It is not safe for you to wander away from their carrier's care, little one. What if you stumbled upon dangers I was not near to help?." His voice is ever soft as he talks to them.  Shifting his hand, he lifted them up to optic level and tapped their tiny nose softly with a digit. "Let us return you home swiftly, less your guardian finds you missing." striding with utmost care and speed towards where he remembered the meadow lay. 

A set of eyes flicker up as they hear their loud steps, the crunching of branches and the loud voice of their child. They look up from working in a garden, planting vegetables. They look up worried for a second before seeing their child with the large red and blue robot. "Baby I told you, no going into the meadows without me!" They call out as they stand and begin walking towards Optimus. They are covered in a mix of soil, mulch and fertiliser. 

Optimus bowed his helm apologetically as the youngling's carrier approached with concern clear upon their features. Stopping a respectful distance away, he carefully lowered his hand and helped the little one slide to the ground between them. 

"Your child came to my shelter with gifts of drawings, yet when seeking their guardian’s presence I discovered them wandering alone and brought them swiftly back." He explains. 

They slowly check their child as they pull their cheek lightly. "No wandering without me baby, I mean it, what would have happened if Optimus wasn't there and you got hurt?" They ask the child. The little one just smiles at them without a care or worry. "Thank you Optimus, sorry they seem to have a skill with disappearing and finding trouble" they state with a sigh.

Optimus vented quietly, field radiating amusement. "No apology is needed," he rumbled gently. Turning down to the child now regarding him with less enthusiasm, he continued in a rumble barely louder than a murmur but meant only for young audials, "Your carrier speaks wisdom, little one. These forests hold wonders, but also perils for ones as small as you. Promise you'll not stray from home again, hmm?."

Rising once more to his full height, though still kneeling, he paused watching them together, there was something about this that made his spark ache. "Go have a bath bub" they state to their child giving them a quick kiss to the forehead. “ahhh par you are stinky!” They squeal and take off running into the house. "Bath!, bath!, bath!" They yell in excitement. It makes their parent sigh with a shake of their head. "Don't use all the Hot water!" They yell out.

Optimus' optics crinkled with gentle amusement as the child raced off squealing. his plating shifted in a subtle shrug. "Younglings possess a boundless energy and curiosity it appears," he rumbled. 

They slowly try wiping dirt off their face. "Can I get you anything, I'm not sure if you eat or drink but is there anything I can get you?"

"You know you don't have to stay in that cave, you're more than welcome to stay in the barn if you wish" they hum with a smile. For a moment Optimus was surprised by the thoughtful offer, not used to such easy generosity. His optics softened earnestly even as his sensors subtly noted details of the little homestead and its assorted life - taking in the moment watching the small farmhouse and barn, a small collection of many animals linger on the property.

"You are too kind," he rumbled gratefully. Although space within his plating felt... empty, lately, in ways repair and recharge did not mend. He lingers watching as They head inside, helping their child wash up. “ You know one of these days you're gonna get yourself in real trouble you know that kiddo” They huff as they scrub their back. Small giggles leave the child as they throw bubbles back. “But Oppy was out there I wanted to say hi!” They state. 

“and what would happen if he wasn't there, baby. You could have gotten hurt” they sigh. Slowly drying their kid off before letting them race around the house. Making dinner and getting them set for the night is a chore in itself. It's only when the phone rings do they let out a tired sigh, answering it. 

 "Yea, yea I can do that Murphy, I'll be in, in 30 just let me get dressed and put my kid to bed" they state. After the phone call they move around getting dressed quickly. "Baby I've gotta go to work, remember the rules about what to do if I'm not home?" They ask the child. "Mmhmm! I stay inside, lock the doors, don't answer for anyone but you, Par! Can Oppy stay and watch me please?" the little one asks with the biggest pleading eyes, still towelling off damp hair. "Please par? I promise to be good, and not wander, if Oppy watches till your home?" 

"I will ask him but you need to go to bed soon it's getting late" they state while pressing another kiss to their forehead. They are quickly out the door. "Sorry I've got to go to work, would you mind just watching them to make sure they don't wander" they ask softly to Optimus. As they head out to their car. 

"It is no trouble," he rumbled gently, bowing his massive helm in easy acceptance. Settling just outside where his pedes would not disturb soil, Optimus' optics dimmed in contentment as he slowly sank to sit beside the house. "Oppy, watch a movie?" They ask while moving the TV so Optimus can watch through the window. 

his optics flicker gently toward the tiny gaze regarding him through the transparent barrier. "As you wish, little one," he rumbled softly, dipping his chin in a nod. Adjusting his massive bulk carefully so as not to shake the dwelling's foundation, he folded his pedes aside and rested intake against powerful arms, 

 The starting of the movie, excitedly showing him the Iron Giant. “Look look its you!” they say excitedly while pointing to the metal man on screen. " He comes from space just like you!" They state excitedly. Orion's optics brightened keenly as the child excitedly guided his attention to images upon the screen, quickly parsing scenarios and recognizing similarities between fictional depiction and aspects of his own frame and past. 

"Fascinating," he rumbled softly. Looking down with a gentle tilt of helm to meet shining eyes gazing up at him in awe, his field pulsed with warmth. "It would seem he and i are in similar situations." 

Turning audio receptors attentively back to the story unfolding, great hands carefully gathered tiny one closer within his palm, sheltering them in one massive digit as together they watched adventures of the unlikely bond between alien visitor and human child unfold. 

As the movie plays on they continue explaining things to Optimus. The large bot focuses in as the movie shows a little boy saving the large bot from a power plant and how their friendship slowly evolves. It makes him see the parallel with his own situation. As it gets to the scene with the Deer, it makes Optimus' spark ache, remembering what had happened only a week ago when he had stepped on a deer. “ Ah I see why you refer to me as the Iron Giant” he states ever so softly.  Within some time the child is asleep on the couch. Optimus can feel the rain clouds rolling in and decides it's time to retreat into the barn for the night. Transforming down into his alt mode, systems powered down into minimal low-energy mode as the rains began. The little one had drifted into recharge as intended, and his duty for now was fulfilled.

It's a peaceful night until the thunder starts. Cries break through the air. Setting Optimus fuel lines a blaze with true terror hearing the child crying out.

Optimus systems roared instantly back to full alert status at the first crack of thunder and subsequent crying, Transforming smoothly and silently into root mode once more, he began querying sensors for signs of harm - but quickly pinpointed the source as the small one rightfully frightened by nature's fury. The small patterns of foot fall along the wet ground echo's as they run into the barn, meeting his blue optics in fear. 

 "Little one, it is alright. Its only the sky." Holding out palm upturned, 

"It's scary, it's after me!" They cry out.A pang of sorrow shot through Optimus core at the terror in those tiny words, and he responded without pause - tiny arms had barely reached him before he folded massive digits as gently as his construction allowed around them, lifting and tucking them close to his broad chestplate in a cradling hold.

"Shh, little one," he murmured, the steadfast thrum of his own mighty spark resonating against their frame. "The thunder cannot harm you, I promise." he leaned carefully back against the barn walls, free hand coming up to form a shelter around them as the storm raged on outside. "Listen to my sparkbeat," he whispered through the noise, They pull their stuffy and blanket closer. Pressing themself into Optimus’ chest flinching every time the loud thunder echoes in the distance. Snuggling closer to him hoping he will chase away the monster in the storm.

Optimus core ached anew at each flinch of tiny form against his own, Curving lithe digits ever-so-carefully around the little one and their favoured possessions, he cradled them close as any carrier would. 

 "Listen to my pulse, little spark," he murmured softly between cracks above, voice a low, calm anchor in the chaos. "No monster dares face a Prime. I have you." Dipping his helm, Optimus brushed a tender kiss of metal against their head, They eventually fell back asleep snuggled against his form. He powers back down. Locking his systems so that no harm would come to them by him moving in recharge.

When dawn's light broke anew over gentle fields, his core pulsed gratitude for the reminder that life went ever on, even in darkness' wake. And as tiny optics fluttered open to his calm regard once more, he knew true purpose and solace would await wherever innocence required shelter and guardians stood watch.

It's very early morning when they finally arrive home, drained as the head towards the door keys in hand. When they go to open the door only to discover it's unlocked. Cold fear runs through their veins, they move towards the barn with speed. Optimus systems powered alertly at the barn door's opening, yet he remained as still as possible, not wishing to disturb the little one's recharge. Lifting weary optics, A digit raised gently to his intake. “shhhh” he calls out softly. 

_________

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Taglist:

@angelxcvxc

@saturnhas82moons

[ask-the-dunmeshi-biologists]

What are y'alls favorite ecosystems?

Laios: The Australian Outback is full of some of the most amazing and deadly species on the planet, with unique adaptations that are rare to find anywhere else on earth. It has some of the most incredible views, and the arid environment is always persevering and thriving in the most unexpected ways. The outback is a place of constant wonder and nostalgia for me. Ever since I was a kid, and up until recently really, I always struggled to find a place where I could fit in and be myself. Me and Falin grew up on a small Emu farm in the bush, so I spent a lot of time on the outskirts of the outback, sticking to the same paths so that I wouldn't get lost, and despite it being dangerous, as long as I was careful, it ended up providing a safe haven for me until I saved up enough to leave the country and forge my own path in the world.

Falin: Definitely Tropical Rainforests, they hold the largest number of insect species on the planet (2.5 million in the Amazon Rainforest alone!) and are endless in their importance. There are so many things left to discover in them, from hundreds of hidden cave systems, around 80,000 plant species and, along with the ocean, they act almost as the lungs of the earth, providing most of the oxygen we need to survive. Last year, Marcille and I worked with SPUN trying to map as many mychorrzial fungi as possible, in several tropical forests of South America, Africa and Australia. After a year spent buried in the undergrowth, among the ferns, moss and mulch, it's like you can feel Earth's beating heart. I would love to return to one of them soon.

Marcille: Archipelagos. Groups of islands, both tropical and temperate are my favourite places of study. Every island has it's own unique ecosystem and these multitudes of them contain the secrets of evolution, genetics and cultural changes throughout history. From animals adapting to each island and forming new species, to ethnobotany and traditions that change and adapt, stemming from when people first took to the sea, and the legacies they leave behind to this day.

Chilchuck: The Irish Countryside. Valleys, Vales or Dales, whatever you wanna call them, there's nowhere I like being more. Despite having travelled the world with Laios, Falin, Marcille, and later Senshi, there isn't much that compares to the rolling hills of home.

Senshi: Microbiomes of all habitats. People often overlook the importance of the little things, and all the good they do for us in return for leaving them be. Macrophotography has always been a large passion of mine, and I'm fortunate enough to have landed a career in capturing the beauty of it all.

[luveline]

After reading the newest zombie!au Steve blurb where they are kind of established i really want to read about the first time she accidentally calls Steve her boyfriend and he’s like 🥹

I think this is a request so tysm!! brilliant idea ♡ fem!reader zombie!au

Steve is adamantly refusing to hold your hand today.

"False sense of security," he argues.

You preen at the idea that you might give him a sense of security and settle for holding onto his backpack strap. Your legs are aching from a full day of walking. Though complaining won't make it better, or even more manageable, you know Steve won't mind.

"I think I'm getting a cramp," you say without any inflection. It's hardly urgent or besides the norm.

"Yeah? Drink what's left of the flask."

"I'm okay, just... how much longer do you think we have to go?"

Steve pulls the flask from the side netting of his backpack and offers it to you. He doesn't stop walking. Once you stop, you won't want to start again.

"Not sure. I thought we'd find a town or a rest stop or something by now. Stupid maps."

"Wanna stop and ask for directions?"

He laughs and finally turns to look at you. He's a little roughed up and there's dirt under his ear but he’s as handsome as usual, a boyish charm about him that never seems to fade.

"Yeah, let's stop and ask for directions," he says, sarcastic but smiling so much it doesn't quite work.

You shiver at the brisk wind and his smile flickers.

"Want the blanket?"

"I'm okay," you reassure. You're fine. The sun is low and blocked almost wholly by trees and you always miss its heat these days, but you're not cold enough to need the blanket yet. "I can wait."

"If you're cold, wear the blanket," he says, more gently than he might've a month ago. When you first met he would've told you to be quiet, lest you attract any unwanted companions, and he would've done it harshly.

It's strange to remember how you hadn't really gotten along at first. Now, you can't imagine a day without him. Without his sweet smiles, his hand to hold at night. You're the same every night, bundled up by his side to hide from the fall chill. You wait what can't be ten minutes before your hand creeps up his thigh, shy though you don't have to be. Steve always takes it. His big hand will take your own careful and kind and warm, calluses catching against yours. Then, when he thinks you're asleep, he'll bring it up to his mouth and kiss the back.

"It's fine, I mean- we're gonna stop soon, right?"

He hums his agreement and starts to move forward again. You sip at the water and follow, nose filled with the sickly sweet smell of the surrounding forest and mulching leaves stirred by the wind.

"Do you think we could sleep in a car tonight?" you ask. It's much warmer.

Steve steps over a suitcase in the middle of the road and reaches backward for you to help you do the same. An unnecessary, heart melting gesture.

"You want to play car roulette?"

A terrible, awful game of terrible, awful decisions. The first time you asked Steve to sleep in a car he'd laughed at you and refused to answer. The second time, he'd explained the risk. If the car still has some battery in it and you set of the alarm, you'll draw every geek in a two mile radius.

But eventually, he'd come to realise you ran nowhere near as hot as he did. That you get cold easy, and that being cold constantly makes you downright depressed. Sacrifices have to be made sometimes just to keep your sanity.

"Can you run if we get a dud?" he asks.

You test your sore feet. "Maybe."

Steve grimaces. You can see the debate on his face; the nights have been getting colder and if you don't sleep in a car tonight he might spend his twilight hours trying to keep you warm, but if he tries to open a car and the alarm goes off you'll definitely need to run.

"There's gotta be a method to this," he grumbles. "Some way to tell if a car has juice."

You wiggle your fingers between his and smile because he hasn't noticed he's still holding your hand.

You look out over the expanse of barren highway, interrupted only by the occasional car or possessions too heavy to carry and squint. "Cars have, like, batteries, don't they? Why don't we just," — you make a snipping motion with your freehand — "cut one out?"

Again Steve stops and you bump into his side.

He looks down at you with both wonder and humour, lips quirked up into a great smile. "You genius." He shakes his head voraciously. "Why haven't we thought of that before? Holy shit."

"Wait, if you take the battery out will the locks stop working?"

"I don't think so. I don't know. Let's try it anyways, it's not like we need the lock. We'd still have to take shifts. Don't wanna get cornered." He gifts you another pleased smile. "You're a genius."

You stamp down the flustered flush his praise brings and walk another hundred feet. You and Steve pass cars hand in hand and scout them like Goldilocks, looking for one with the biggest, comfiest, and cleanest seats. Steve spots a huge jeep in the distance and you speed walk to it.

"Can you even reach the hood?" you ask.

"Very funny."

Steve cracks the hood. You both stare into the mess of the machine and take some time to locate the battery. After an abundance of tugging and pulling, his hands blacked quickly by grease, Steve dislodges what looks like a battery and pulls it out, groaning.

"Fucking heavy," he complains, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. Dark grease spreads over his pale skin.

You lick the tiniest tip of your thumb and wipe it away.

His eyes close.

You smile and don’t bother hiding how much you like him. He even lets you wipe his hands with a small hand towel from your bag. "Ready?" you ask as you finish.

There are three possible scenarios. You open the door and the alarm goes off. You try to open the doors and the doors are locked. Or...

Steve braces himself, pulls the door, and the two of you sieze up in the awaiting silence.

"Yes!" you cheer, then slap a hand over your mouth. "Yes."

He sends you a nice smile and beckons for you to climb in. He follows behind you and closes the door, and then it's just the two of you in the dim light, a freaky silence pervading and the blissful absence of wind.

Steve locks all the doors, climbing over you and then the front seats. You rub your freezing fingers, wiggling them as they start to tingle.

"My hands are burning," you say.

"Yeah?" Steve sits back down beside you. He quickly tries to open the door to make sure the lock has worked, and when it does he unzips his coat. "C'mere."

He works your hands into his jacket and pulls you into a hug. You feel yourself melt not from his heat — though he's amazingly warm — but his closeness, his touch, his hands as they spread over your back. Your face fits well into the crook of his neck, and soon the two of you are warm and slouched together. Like a normal couple. Well, maybe not entirely normal.

"Did you ever-" You laugh at yourself and can't finish.

"What?"

"D'you ever... Mess around? In a car, I mean."

"I think I did most of my 'messing around' in cars."

You nuzzle your face into his skin. "Figures. Handsome guy like you."

He turns his head so his words warm your forehead. "I was an idiot," he says. His hand coasts upward. You follow his lead and feel along his back, fingers running down the dip of his spine. "What about you?"

"What about me?" you ask, though you know what he means.

"Have you ever messed around in the back of car? Pretty girl like you?"

His proximity, his gently adoring tone, this tiny bubble of secrets you've made. It slips out too easily.

"Nah, you're my first boyfriend."

"You don't have to have a boyfriend to..." He goes very still.

You hum and pull your head back to look at him. You're feeling confident enough to untuck your hand from his jacket and tuck a loose lock of hair behind his ear. "What?"

His eyes have gone impossibly soft. The starts of his eyebrows pinched up and together slightly, he looks at you like you're the sweetest thing on this whole planet.

"I just never met someone," you say swiftly, embarrassed at his endeared expression. "Never met anyone like you."

"I'm your boyfriend?" he asks.

You blink and then avert your gaze to his chest, a sudden flash of embarrassed heat spreading from the middle of your chest all the way to your ears. "I thought so, but-"

"'Cos I've been calling you my girlfriend in my head, for like, three weeks. I know we haven't talked about it, but," — he catches your hand where it's fallen to his shoulder and massages your aching fingers — "I thought maybe we didn't have to."

You lift your head. He still looks so soft, so at odds with the Steve you'd first met and still, undeniably, inarguably, Steve.

Your boyfriend.

"I know I'm dirty," he begins hopefully.

You lean forward and kiss him before he can finish. A chaste, loving thing. A couple seconds at most, hand drifting up the slope of his neck. It feels heart-racing and risky, to be the one who makes the first move. You're not sure how he'd worked up the nerve to do it before.

"Your hands are still cold," he worries aloud, rubbing at your fingertips as he breaks the kiss. He doesn't go far, lips skipping over your cheek with each word.

"Let me put 'em inside your t-shirt."

Surprisingly, he does. You fall asleep like that, hands clasped greedily at his back. Steve watches you sleep for a little while, and then he turns his eyes to the windshield and monitors the highway. He's gonna keep you safe no matter what.

-

more steve zombie!au

[viviseawrites]

wishing the happiest of (slightly belated) birthdays to @paradimeshifts7!

each evening's darkening

rated E | 11k words | stevie harrington enters the forest to barter with a witch for a cure. she comes out with much more. wlw steddie.

excerpt:

Stevie Harrington knows better than to enter the woods. She’s lived in town all her life, after all, and the people of Hawkins have long claimed that something ominous haunts the land beyond the tree line. It used to be that young men dared each other to spend a night beneath those boughs to prove their courage, but too many never returned, and now folks respect the wishes of the forest.

If it weren’t her last resort, Stevie would not be here. She should be tucked away in bed at home, settling in for the night. Instead, she’s standing at the spot where prairie grasses give way to tall trunks, peering into the shadows. She shifts her weight between her feet, eyes searching for any sign of danger, before she swallows and steels herself. Her shoulders roll back under the straps of her rucksack as she nods firmly, just once, and makes the stupidest decision of her life so far.

The temperature drops beneath the trees. Her feet, clad in thick wool socks and worn boots, sink into the damp mulch of leaf litter and decay, kicking up a musty scent that tickles the back of her throat. “This better fucking be worth it,” she huffs, pointedly keeping her gaze directed straight ahead.

Robin told her not to do this. She begged and pleaded and threatened and promised to help find another solution. After all that, Stevie barely believes she managed to convince Robin that she would wait for her. Stevie half-expected to find her sleeping on the doorstep just in case Stevie tried it anyway.

But it’s better this way. Either Stevie succeeds or she fails, but no one else suffers, whatever the outcome.

After a few minutes, she’s learned not to look when she thinks she sees movement out of the corner of her eye. She chalks it up to normal animals—squirrels, foxes, rabbits, and the like—because there’s no point in considering anything more dangerous, not if she intends to see this through. Instead, she preoccupies herself by repeating what Dustin had told her at the start of all this, again and again, intent on remembering every detail.

“Not all witches are evil, Stevie! I swear on my mother,” Dustin had insisted. “I read something about witches that used to help people instead, and it said the witch of Mirkwood was one of them until something really bad happened.”

“So what happened?”

Dustin had folded under Stevie’s unimpressed raised eyebrow. “Well, no one is really sure.”

“Even if that were true, Dustin, how would I find her?”

“The book says only those in need may find the path,” Dustin had said. Despite further prodding and bickering, he recalled no other details. Honestly, Stevie nearly gave up on the idea right then and there. It was far-fetched and unlikely to yield results; it still is. But at least she exhausted every other option before resigning herself to this.

Only those in need may find the path. Stevie figures the desperation bubbling under her sternum lends credence to the necessity of this cursed trip.

She just hopes that Dustin and Robin forgive her if everything goes wrong.

A low, grumbling kind of snarl splits the muffled night air. Stevie flinches, whipping her head up to look for the threat, and immediately pitches forward over a raised root. Displaced air ruffles her hair and her ankle rolls under her until a yelp breaks from her lips, but she manages to catch herself against the rough bark of a thick oak. The silence that follows weighs heavy on her trembling shoulders. Gone are the weird shuffling noises and hair-raising growls; instead, silence descends around her. Even the owls have gone quiet.

Stevie presses her back up against the oak and stares out into the dark. Despite the glowing moon she spotted before entering Mirkwood, no light pierces the canopy here. She does manage to spot a branch on the ground a few feet away, though, amongst a patch of clover, and she scrambles to pick it up, wielding it like a club as she waits for an attack that never comes.

Her heartbeat drums loudly in her ears. Her fingers cramp around the makeshift weapon, held at the ready even as the normal sounds of the forest filter back in. Whatever she encountered, it appears to have moved on, but her nerves refuse to calm.

When the voice comes, Stevie acts in a way she’s not proud of. “You know,” someone says behind her—the words cut off as Stevie screams and whirls around, sweeping her branch through the air only to find nothing waiting. A shudder wracks her arms and spills down her spine.

Witch, her mind hisses.

“Well, that was rude,” the voice says blandly, coming from overhead this time. Stevie looks up searchingly to no avail. “I was just going to compliment you on dodging the demodog. It almost looked purposeful when you tripped. Very graceful.”

read the rest on ao3

[howlingday]

What if Jaune Arc pass, and everyone else fails in the Initiation Test on Emerald Forest? There is a story about it.

WARNING: I went down a dark path for this story. If you're disturbed by unhappy ending stories, then this is your WARNING to turn away now.

-------------------------------------------------

Ozpin: Jaune Arc, as the only survivor of the Emerald Forest, you are permitted to attend Beacon Academy.

Jaune didn't respond. He couldn't respond. How could he? He'd come to this academy with pie-eyed dreams of becoming a hero, only to be stricken hard in the face with the reality that this was a school that taught one how to battle a merciless foe like the Grimm. He'd barely gotten to know any of their names as he watched them all die one by one.

The first one to die was the pretty one in white. She'd slip through his hands and he watched her fall to her death into the chasm. Part of him hoped that she survived the fall and would make it back to Beacon. That the board of more than a dozen red exes was a mistake made by the academy. But the more rational side of him wished it was painless.

Next was the girl much younger than him. As the Nevermore drew closer, it pierced her heart with it's powerful beak, spraying red ichor everywhere as she'd hung lifelessly on it's beak. The other blonde of the group roared in her rage and charged blindly into the demon bird, only for her wrath to blind her to the Deathstalker closing in on her, with one claw already holding the limp body of the girl who was to be his partner. A stinger removed those beautiful, golden locks after reducing the head to red mulch.

All that was left were him and the other three students who'd joined in the initiation. They all ran to the bridge, where they'd become cornered by the giant bird and scorpion. After the girl with the hammer had been knocked over the edge by a stray swipe from the Deathstalker, the dark-haired boy jumped after her. He'd been unfortunate to watch their bodies hit the rocks below.

That left him alone with the black-bowed girl to protect him. She'd managed to swing them both across the falling bridge to the safety of the tower. They climbed their way to the top, finding a cave leading into the dark. She'd stopped halfway through, tears in her eyes. Shaking her head, she spoke her last words. "I can't."

Before he could respond, he'd become deaf and blind from her final act in the dark.

Ozpin: Mister Arc? Did you hear me?

Jaune: ...Yeah.

[headspace-hotel]

i learn a staggering amount of things just being in nature and paying attention to what's going on. Things that are obvious are seldom written down so they can be found where people look. I get stressed out that people don't know things. It's dire that they have to be taught at all.

I'm watching everything prepare for winter. Well, not watching. I'm gathering seeds, preparing beds, labeling seed packets. The leaves are falling, the flowers are dying back.

I was surprised to see how long seeds will just hang out on withered plants, instead of being eaten or falling or blowing away. Acorns and nuts cover the forest floor. Hackberries cling to trees throughout winter. Seeds are produced in wild abundance.

It's difficult not to assign purpose to these things—the plants produce seeds and nuts so the birds and animals don't go hungry. It's discouraged to view nature as having some kind of purposeful agency.

The leaves cover the ground now in deep drifts. I learned that moths and butterflies sleep through winter in fallen leaves.

How did I not know that? How was this not important enough to be taught?

Homeowners seem to think of leaves as a nuisance. It's common practice to rake them into piles and burn them or bag them up to be sent to landfills. This is horrifyingly wasteful, on top of destroying the insects that hibernate in them. Fallen leaves are pure gold, a vital source of nourishment and insulation for the soil. Rotting leaves mulch and fertilize the forest floor.

Fallen leaves don't just nourish, they protect. I found the smaller of my tree seedlings covered by a thick layer of fallen leaves, shielded from an early frost. Farmer Family Friend advises mulching the baby trees for the winter to keep them safe from the extremes of the cold.

They are a near-perfect insulating and mulching material, but I rarely see people using them as such. "Use fallen leaves as mulch" is a Gardening Hack found on Pinterest, a novel trick.

It is discouraged to assign motive and purpose to natural processes, but it is devastating to accept the alternative—that something an organism does isn't "for" a purpose except the organism's own survival. Leaves fall because they can't withstand the winter cold, and it is more economical to enter a period of dormancy. We know this.

And yet. The horrors it has caused, for people to decide that the leaves are not for anything, that they only make a mess and can be burned or sent to a landfill (!!). We have to spread memes online telling everyone to leave alone their fallen leaves, because it's not common knowledge that the butterflies need them.

The harsh, competitive thinking about nature stops people from thinking of nature as the intricate system it is.

I was afraid that the frost last night killed my tiny tulip poplar. I found it safe and unharmed, covered by leaves blown all the way from the neighbor's yard—leaves from a mature tulip poplar tree, shielding the small one. I keep telling myself not to be fanciful, but my heart aches with something indescribable.

[mysteriesmuse]

Molemates >> Soulmates

( a pic for daydreaming reference eee!) Summary: The class goes on a beach trip and discovers that you and Bakugou have a matching pair of complementary moles in a hidden location.

————————-

The beaten path you were walking along went straight through the dense edges of the forest. A simple dirt path that splayed off the main road - where all your cars were parked- and split via a gravel path, which shortly turned into dirt. The dusty loose sand and mulch and mud kicking up onto everyone’s sandal clad feet. A chorus of resounding angry grumbles as the path which was branded as a “short” walk turned more into a “short” hike.   

You were supposed to be walking to a secluded special beach spot to spend the day at. You shouldered on, walking single-file between Iida and Todoroki. The former lean blue haired boy shouting out any hazards along the way. The later duo-haired boy behind you giving out a small huff of a chuckle whenever the you lost your footing. It was narrow and steep in all the right places the loose soil disappearing underneath foot with the promise of breaking into full sand somewhere - somewhere behind you was Aoyama and Hagakure which seemed to trip or slip on the uneven terrain every 5 minutes - causing yourself and the rest of the group up front to sent concerned glances over your shoulders.  

You groaned leaning down to slap another mosquito from your calf only to bump your head on something. You stumbled back seeing that you’d bumped into Iida’s back. “Sorry, Iida,” you chirped, backpedaling a few more steps to regain space. 

The boy turned anround and looked down at you, taking his glasses in one hand, “No, I’m sorry Y/N-Chan!” His eyes moved elsewhere behind you, “Todoroki-kun there may still be more of a spider web up here.” He sputtered, wiping his face and his glasses on the edge of his t-shirt. You lips quickly quirked into a smile, “Thank you for that unintentional sacrifice then,” you added.

Iida nodded solemnly, “It’s my pleasure to eliminate unwanted obstacles for my friends.” - ah the man took everything just a little too seriously.   

“That’s very kind of you, Iida.” 

You glanced behind you, Todoroki crouching underneath another series of low hanging branches right behind you, his tall form awkwardly bent as he held back branches in his left hand - and so did he.  

 “Oi! What’s the hold up?”  

 “Yeah why’d everyone stop? Is something wrong?”

The three of you groaned. The shuffling of the sandy soil kicking up ceasing. Whoever decided to put Bakugou and Midoriya together on cooler duty smack dab in the middle of the line was an idiot. They both worked in perfect tandem now and were respectively too impatient and too eager to get to the beach. 

Todoroki locked eyes with you and without moving an inch reflexively shouted back, “Don’t worry, Deku. We’re moving now. Iida walked into a spider web.” 

A collective sigh broke the surface from your portion of the line and then you were once again on your treck - and it was probably another 2 miles of shuffling through what was progressively more and more sand until you’d started to hear the familiar and promising sound of the waves. And after that your measly little group popped out off the spidery, sweaty, and dusty forest trail to reveal a beach that was worth the journey.  

 It was an untouched several miles of beach - a pink beach. Punctuated by the pummeling froth of the ocean waves underneath the yolk colored sun. 

You stood feeling the misty breeze tickle against your clammy skin sighing in content that your aching feet could now simply dig into the gorgeous warm sand. The rest of you classmates seemed to stand in the same state of awe, except for one brunette who couldn’t hide her excitement. 

Uraraka bolted past you with a delighted shout, clipping by close enough to feel the breeze as she sprinted towards the cool waters already having accidentally flung off her shorts and shirt - to leave her in her bikini- onto Todoroki who stood next to you unabashedly as he calmly pulled them off himself.  

She took off - snagging Izuku in the process as he started rambling and running frantically.  

“Deku! Shush!” She laughed, running and barreling into the ocean with the very confused and very sweaty and tired Izuku. 

They ran until the clear water lapping against the beach swallowed her up to her thighs and then she fell back - throwing their connected hands in the air and bringing Izuku crashing down with her - eliciting a “please be careful!” from Iida. The rest of you stood still in shock. 

Beside you Todoroki had returned and dropped her clothes onto her beach bag muttering, “I’ll just put these here for now.” 

Suddenly she and Izuku popped back up out of the water. “Hurry up! The water feels great!” She hollered, waving a hand. Midoriya flinging his head and shoulders like a dog, droplets of water surely hitting Uraraka in the face as her nose wrinkled on one side before he sheepishly gave a thumbs up in agreement.

Then everyone else, along with yourself, seemed to be shocked out of your tired stupor and suddenly the entire plan of setting up the beach was thrown into the wind. Mina quickly using your shoulder for balance as she kicked off her sandals and shimmied out of a pair of booty shorts that’d she’d thrown on over her bikini bottoms for the “walk.” You stood itching to get your own clothes off. Another few splashes signaling that others had already made it in. Kaminari ran over hopping around trying to slide his ripped jeans off.  

“Oh come on,” Mina scoffed as he held onto her shoulder struggling to wiggled them off in the sand. “It’s alright,” you said shaking your head. Already busy shimming out of your pair of denim shorts. “I’m good!” 

Kaminari scoffed, “Well not all of us can be as graceful as Y/N.” “Oh sure, cause her little cha-cha is so hard to do Kam?” Mina laughed. 

You’d finished slipping your shorts off, stepping out of the little pant legs and flipping your hair back as you stood up, going to strip the old t-shirt from your head. “It’s definetly not that big a deal, Kam. Don’t worry ‘bout Mina she’s just teasing. She used my shoulder too. Ah-“ you popped your head out, toned arms and stomach now free from that wet sticky layer, “so who’s ready to go-“ 

“- Yo’ Y/N you’ve got a cute mole on your ass!” Kam shouted. Mina slapped him in the chest, “Of course she does! Now stop staring at my girls butt!”  

Kaminari stumbled back with his hands up, “Not what I mean! Hey- yo Sero! Doesn’t Bakubro have a mole on his ass?”  

You turned to see Sero poke his head up from where he was busy applying suntan lotion with Kirishima.  

“Huh what?” 

Kaminari sighed. “Doesn’t Bakugou have that mole?! The one on his ass? It’s like - it’s like right here.” He said, pointing to his own butt for reference.  

“I swear it’s just like the one N/N has,” Kaminari took your hand and gave you a playful little spin to the boys. The mole they were seeing being one that’d you’d had forever. A few playful wolf whistles came out from the lot. It was a large dark mole and a little baby one that stood on the side of your right butt cheek a few inches outside your panty line.  

You giggled with a scoff as Mina pretended to faint at the ‘adorableness’ of it all. Kaminari now spinning you in circles for the fun of it all. 

“Oi. Sparky you’re gonna make her sick doing that.” Speak of the devil? 

Kaminari quickly grabbed your shoulders and patted your head, giving you a wink before he left. “Hey Bakubro. Bakugou. Don’t you have a mole that matches the one on our babe of a friend here? See, I just can’t quite remember . . .”

Mina clutched onto your shoulders stifling her giggles into your neck as Kaminari tried to approach Bakugou causally. Bakugou turned his ruby red gaze onto your form his gruffly voice giving out a guttural, “Huh?” He stood on the sand in black swim trucks, his bulky arms crossed over the pink star-shaped scar that sat square in the middle of his chest. 

Kirishima slung an arm around his shoulders, “Yeah man, you do! Here, show them!” 

And with that the three boys started reaching to shove up the bottom of Bakugou’s swim trucks aiming to expose his hidden mole to the world. Sparks were flying before Kirishima managed to heave him up like a giant teddy bear. Sero having managed to tape his wrist together and Kaminari coming in and pulling the curtains back. And sure enough on his left cheek Bakugou sported a mole on the bottom curvature of his ass. One that matched yours minus the extra little baby speckle that you had under it. Mina grinned having disconnected herself from you to point and shout at your friends butt, “It’s totally the same! Quick N/N stand next to Bakugou! So we can compare, quick, quick!” Said blonde sat limp and dejected in Kirishimas hold, utterly confused because he missed the first part of the conversation that started all this. “The fuck are y’all talking about? If these extras have got their hands all over my swim trucks I wanna see whose ass is matching mine!” He demanded. Kirishima cooing and swinging the large man in his arms. “Okay, okay - if you insist,” you grinned, although Mina had already sprinted back and was now dragging your forward. “Here look! It’s Y/N!” Mina chirped as you watched her gesture to your butt like a fancy advertising product over your shoulder. Bakugou’s face seemed astoundingly calm as he hung in Kirishima’s arm. His ruby red eyes blinking from under those thick blonde lashes which tickled the tops of his high cheekbones. A slight pinkish tint to them as he grunted, “Alright, alright. I’ll stand next to her so you idiots can compare.” Kirishima hesistantly plopping him down into the stand as he stalked his way over to you, snapping off Sero’s tape holding his hands together. Bakugou rolled his broad shoulders as he stood next to you, quirking a lopsided smile behind everyone’s back before quirking a brow at you and holding up his swim trunks. The knuckles on his hand brushing against your hip as he hiked it up. A chrous of applause and cheers sounded from your friends as they had solved a mystery that never needed solving. You spared a glance over your shoulder at Bakugou’s mole sitting on the same matching yours. You cocked your head with a grin, “I guess this makes us molemates.” Bakugou cocked his own head, “You know that’s fucking stupid. I’m not calling you that.” You crossed your arms under your chest noticing his eyes flicker there for a moment before meeting your own, “Fine by me - molemate.” You watched as a vein in his forehead actually twitched. His jaw going slack before that terrifying smirk replaced it. “Oi, no. Absolutely not ya’ fucker. We’re not doing this.” And suddenly Katsuki had snatched you around the waist and off the ground. Charging with you like a manic kid with his favorite toy onto the playground as he barreled towards the water. “HEY-“ you shrieked, the wind streaking past your hair, “this is not how you treat your molemate!” You chided trying the 1,2 pat to his forearm to tap out of the mad dash sprint he was making towards the lapping ocean. The rest of the Baku-squad’s cheering and shouting and laughing fading into the distance as the wind whistles against the shell of your ear. The water making gurgling and garbling noises as Katsuki rushed in taking you with him as the water pooled around his strong thighs, which were still running at full speed until the water was up to your neck and shoulders. Katsuki then pushing you away from his sweltering oven-temperature body and into the pure frigid coolness of the ocean. And then plunging you in like a bath toy in the tub. You sputtered flinging the wet strands of hair from your face as the bubbles of rushing water tickled your sides before colliding back into his warm body. Katsuki looked at you with sharp ruby eyes brimming with something exciting. Your toes curled as he opened his mouth, “That cheesy shit good enough for you, molemate?”

[bilbosmom-belladonna]

Wiggly Worm Wednesday 🧠🪱

Thank you for the tag, @endlessmusings1801! I am SO behind on tag games but this one comes with a deadline so I'm gonna roll with it.

Fall is coming to the northern hemisphere, and with it the inevitable arrival of All Things Halloween, which has got me thinking: if there was any kind of professional haunted house/forest/hayride/corn maze/whatever in Hawkins, Indiana, YOU KNOW Eddie Munson was working there every October.

I mean, it combines his three favorite things: theatrical performances, spooky shit, and terrifying normal people! You cannot tell me Eddie wasn't working late every night, jump-scaring assholes from high school or cackling maniacally at the suburban moms that sneer at him in the grocery store.

There's a LOT of fun ways this could go in my mind, both in the 80s and in a modern AU. I am stirring it around in my head like a big gooey cauldron of possibility.

With that in mind, here's a quick little modern AU meet-ugly, based off of a real interaction I saw at a haunted forest many years ago.

Steve scoffed, but didn't let go of his hand. "No, he didn't. You were the one who screamed!" They could see the lights of the parking lot up ahead of them, the wide mulched path leading them out of the trees and away from the haunted forest.

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

"Okay but the mad scientist totally scared the shit out of you," Tommy said, laughing meanly.

"It was a manly scream," Tommy insisted, pouting. "Like, to let him know I meant business."

Steve laughed and rolled his eyes. He hadn't thought much of Tommy's choice for their first date, but he had had more fun than he thought. He had promised himself there would only be one date—Tommy had whined at him long enough to get that—but maybe he could be convinced to try another one. It hadn't been that bad, especially because they had spent most of it screaming and not actually talking. Not even in Steve's top five worst dates.

...maybe the top twenty though.

Tommy started describing the horrors of the werewolf den in detail, as if Steve hadn't been there too, when suddenly from behind them there came the rumbling sound of a chainsaw.

Steve looked over his shoulder and saw a man in a hockey mask barreling down on them, running full-speed with a chainsaw held in front of him, revving it menacingly. On instinct he started running, pelting along the path toward the parking lot.

Tommy was right beside him running until Steve tripped and went down, his ankle twisting painfully under him. Tommy instantly dropped his hand and kept running.

"Tommy!" Steve cried, but Tommy was already too far ahead, racing full-speed for the safety of the cars.

Steve grimaced and tried to stand, pushing up onto his knees but faltering when he tried to put weight on his ankle. Behind him, he heard the chainsaw revving. He turned to see the man in the hockey mask stalking toward him.

It was an actor, of course—Steve felt stupid for not realizing it, a last-minute scare when they thought they were finally safe. He looked back down and tried to get up again, but fell back with a cry when his ankle couldn't take it.

"Holy shit, dude," came a muffled voice. Steve looked up to see the man in the hockey mask—the actor, he supposed—standing above him, hand outstretched.

"You okay?" the man asked.

Steve made a face and grabbed his hand to pull himself up, managing to stand awkwardly on one foot and lean on the man's arm.

"Think I twisted it," he gritted out.

"Shit," Hockey Mask said. He clipped his chainsaw—his fake chainsaw—to his belt and pulled the mask up, revealing messy curls and big brown eyes. "You, uh, you want me to find your date?"

"Fuck him," Steve said immediately. "I'll call a rideshare."

Tommy had just landed himself in the number one spot of Steve's "worst dates" list.

"Yeah, what an asshole," Hockey Mask agreed. He wrapped an arm around Steve's shoulders. "Come on, I'll walk you over to where they pick up."

"Thanks," Steve said gratefully, leaning into his warm side and trying not to wince as he hobbled.

"I'm Eddie," Hockey Mask said with a smile as he walked slowly along. "Sorry about your ankle."

Steve huffed a laugh. "I'm Steve," he replied, "sorry for making you, uh, break character or whatever."

Eddie smiled, his bright eyes reflecting the flickering torches that lined the path. "Nah, don't worry about it. I got plenty of good scares in tonight. Though your boyfriend might take the cake."

"Not my boyfriend," Steve said emphatically. "And he's not even getting a second date."

They reached the edge of the parking lot, where a couple of benches were set up for people waiting for rides. Steve gratefully collapsed onto one. He gingerly tried putting some weight on his ankle and found it a little more stable. Eddie hovered awkwardly over him.

"Thanks," Steve said with a grateful smile. "I'll be okay here, don't want you to get in trouble for slacking off," he added reluctantly. Eddie, he thought, had a really nice smile.

"Look, um," Eddie stammered. "I—uh, I get off in about twenty minutes anyway. If you want I could, um. I could drive you home? Make sure you get there safe?" He twisted his hands in front of him, looking awkward and hopeful despite the fake blood spattered all over his shirt.

Cute, Steve thought.

"Hmmm, I dunno," Steve said slowly. "Wouldn't want to let an actual serial killer drive me home to my apartment." He smirked up at Eddie.

"The mask and the chainsaw are company property," Eddie said quickly. He spread his hands wide. "It would just be little ol' me."

"Okay, well, as long as you're not gonna murder me, I guess it's okay," Steve grinned. "I'll just wait here then."

Eddie's eyes went wide, then he grinned so far his cheeks stretched all the way out. "Okay!" he agreed. He dropped his hockey mask back over his face and picked up his chainsaw, revving it again. "Back to the grind," he growled from behind the mask. Then he was stalking back across the parking lot, terrorizing a group of girls who were huddled by the apple cider stand.

Steve shook his head and carefully lifted his leg up onto the bench. Maybe this first date was salvageable after all.

👑🎸🎃

I will tag @itcanbepalped @soaringornithopter @mojowitchcraft

Looking forward to whatever you've got cooking!

[ceilidho]

prompt: reader summons a warrior (ghost) from beyond the grave to come to her father’s aid (circa 400-500 ad, northern europe or somewhere abouts).

-

It is an old enchantment that you use to drag him out of the grave. One buried in books and tucked away under floorboards in old larders, last used by old crones hundreds of years before your birth, before your grandmother’s birth. 

You didn’t have much of a choice though. Not when the earth rattled under the footsteps of an army a hundred thousand strong, just a handful of miles outside of the borders of your father’s land. Not when your father sat hunched in the tent, head buried in his hands when you peered in through the crack in the opening. Not when families fled in the middle of the night, more willing to take their chances with the wolves in the forest than face certain death with the coming of Marakov’s warriors.

So you find the book that your grandmother once told you about in a hushed voice by a dwindling fire. Back when you were only knee high and shouldn’t have remembered. You do though. You pried the planks of wood out one by one at dawn until your fingers trembled and your torn nails throbbed. Stole far off into the forest past where the guards could find you, until the mulch squelched beneath your feet and the trees broke to let in just enough light for you to whisper the words out into the cold air. 

He comes the day after you summon him, the day after praying to an old god that someone come to your aid. Hewn from stone or muscle; pelt-draped. Eyes like blue granite, charcoal rimmed, and he speaks to your father in a low rumble like he didn’t come unannounced from the wild. Still, your father listens and they disappear inside his tent. 

When you ask your father’s second, he isn’t much help. 

“Says his name’s Ghost,” Garrick grunts, whittling at his post by the riverside. “Dunno where from. Price trusts him. Says he’ll bring twice the men we have if we help him with Marakov.”

He does too, even though you conjured him out of thin air. In the days that follow, more and more men follow the river, arriving with horses and caravans and leathers, swords sheathed at their sides. 

Ghost approaches you after what feels like weeks, following behind when you bring the laundry to the river to wash. You find the name suits him. He’s silent as a ghost from where he stands yards behind you.

“You know, it’s rude to stare,” you say, staring at your own reflection in the water, cocksure in your voice but still too nervous to turn around and meet his eyes. You rub a coarse brush over the clothes piled on the smooth stone you use for washing. 

Something touches your hair. Your head snaps up to find him just beside you now, ankle-deep in the river with you. 

His voice is lower than the shifting of the earth when it trembles. “You are the little witch that called me up. Speak it.”

You drop the brush. It sinks, glug glug, into the waters below. Your throat swells up but you nod. “They—they think you’re real.”

“I was real,” Ghost murmurs, and the finger that plays with a lock of your hair becomes a hand clenched in the delicate strands, pulling you forward. Water sloshes around your legs when you stumble into him. “I was real once, a long time ago. Then I died. I must have slept a thousand years before a little girl woke me up to come fight her war in another time.”

There’s nothing you can say to that, so you nod again. He looks pleased with your honesty. It does not dissuade him from bending his head and breathing heavily into your ear. This close, it’s impossible to avoid the broadness of him, more mountain than man.

“I’ll fight your war, little witch,” Ghost murmurs into the shell of your ear. “But come the dawn of the last day, you will owe me for disturbing my rest. I exact payment in blood.” 

For the first time ever, it’s you that trembles instead of the earth. 

The women and children are ushered far away into the forest on the day that Marakov is seen on the horizon, the skinned head of a wolf draped over his head. A young boy clings to you as carry him and baskets of food and your belongings deep into the woods. You can already hear the screams in the fields behind you, the roar of men; smell it damp like soil, like the living thing that eats the dead. 

“It’s done,” he says to you on the seventh day when you and the young ones return, the battlefields still steaming. The air smells of rust. 

You don’t need to agree. It’s plain as day. You’ve already helped with the funeral arrangements for the men who didn’t come back; you’ve helped with eulogies and collecting kindling for the pyres. 

“You’ll leave now,” you say, with some certainty, no matter how begrudging. 

You can picture it so easily, Ghost rising from the bog like a Gallic warrior; his eyes are so charged with life that you flinch back. You cannot look. You cannot look away. He is a thousand years older than your oldest dreams. His nights in the earth are infinite now—maybe always were—his dreams being darker than night-falling rain. He cannot begrudge you touching him, but you taking him out of the earth is unforgivable. He had to return. 

You think this and then he smiles. “Not without my prize.”

Your eyes go wide when he takes you by the arm, mouth opening on a scream. It is a scream that never comes, that sinks back into the earth whence it came.