#// but also know i am old and cranky

[blushblushbear]

been pounder on this for a bit but here's my two cents on the kistune ages if they were human (not necessarily reverse au or anything like that, but this is how their ages read to me translated into a human time line)

Side note, I may lose some of you on this-- not in a 'ew bad take' kinda way, but more in a 'the fuck are you on about grandma' kinda way cause I'm OLD(er... that the rest of you lot. Ow my hip, get off my lawn ya whipper snappers)

Aki: he's basically canonically 19 (minus the fox years) and he reads it! Homie's in his first year of college, he's young, dumb and full of-- ya know ;3 (whimsy!) maybe 20 something at the oldest but like--- probs not old enough to legally drink if we're being so real

Haru: OKAY SO-- a lot of you guys like to put Haru in his 20's cause you're all babies and 20 something is old to y'all.

Guys, lemme tell you--- home boy is probably in his 30's. I can maybe, MAYBE go as young as very late 20s, 28 at the YOUNGEST, but homie is like---- If I wanna go in my heart of hearts he's maybe staring down the barrel of 40. Def closer to 40 than 20 that's for damn sure. (though fun fact: once you're in your 30's, you're always gonna be closer to 40 than 20..... *stares at the floor having a brief existential crisis*)

but yeah no, he's probably in his early to mid 30s, and you might be thinking, 'Ruby, you're probably only saying that cause YOU'RE in your early to mid 30's' and you're maybe a little right but not for the reason you think you are.

The reason I say he's in his 30's is cause I'm also in my 30's and once you're in your 30's you know that being in your 30's and not being able to hold down a relationship is a massive red flag.

When you're in your early 20s, especially a fuck boy, not being able to make a relationship last long term is like-- it's not great but it's not The End Of It All ya know?? like low key, sounds about right. No Adult Adult expects you to have your shit together in your early 20's. (fun fact: you low key never have your life fully together but shhh you youngins ain't supposed to know that yet)

But yeah-- the reason 28 is the lowest I'll go is cause 28 is about the age where not being able to make a relationship last for more than a month or so, Stops Being Cute. And that's def where Haru is.

Fuyu: 40's maaaaaaybe even 50's. He def doesn't look it, he has a good bone structure and money an genetics and some skin care on his side, so he looks about late 30's/early 40's in the face-- but that greying hair gives away exactly how old he is. (this is another case of everyone in their late teens/early 20's thinking 50 is SO OLD-- it's really not. A LOT of movie stars you watch are actually in their 50's)

So yeah, mid 40's at the earliest, early to mid 50's at the oldest, low key in my heart of hearts I wanna put him in his early 50's. Freshly turned Actual Silver Fox. (as in freshly turned 50-- so about 52/53/maaaaybe even 54-- probs closer to 53. Just turned 53 and is STRESSED ABOUT IT)

[flickeringflame216]

.

[loverboybrightsideghost]

the more i hear previously undiscovered (to me) gen alpha slang the more i morph into an old man on the inside and the more i believe as humans we all are just saying shit recreationally

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Somehow I feel like being more physically active is making me aggressive and more prone to violent thinking

[borkborkheresadork]

Me when I haven’t seen my emotional support middle aged man with questionable ethics in 3 whole months 🥲

[windtraces]

GOSSIPPY COWORKER WHO LET ME TELL HER WVERYTHING THAT HAPPENED I LOVE YOU

[indigodawns]

.

[heavyhitterheaux]

“I hate having to share you.”

Joe had been sitting on the couch and pouting for close to an hour as he looked over at you and baby uno cuddled up on the floor together as you were reading a book to him. He also noticed that his eyes were getting heavy indicating that it would soon be time for his nap.

He honestly couldn't wait because as much as he loved having him here and watching him, he hadn't had you to himself all week since both of you had been so busy. So when he woke up, he was excited to spend the day with you all to come downstairs to see you holding his nephew and his mood instantly turned sour.

Because of this, he immediately sent a text to Ja'Marr

Joe- Come get your kid so I can get laid 😫

Uno- What the hell!?

Joe- He's cockblocking me right now and he has stolen my wife's attention

Uno- Take it up with your wife, she begged to take him and wouldn’t give up until I said yes

Joe- Idk how much I believe that

Uno- Either way I'll get him tomorrow

Joe- TOMORROW!? What the hell is wrong with later today?

Uno- I have a date. Have fun Uncle Joey. Bye!

Joe- 😒

He was taken out of his thoughts when you came and sat in his lap. Startling him, he looked at you and then was looking around for his nephew.

“Where’s baby uno?”

“Upstairs sleeping. You okay? You looked like you were thinking about something.”

“I'm fine.” He mumbled as you wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned down to kiss him which he happily accepted and kissed you back.

“Are you sure? You've been pouting all morning so don't think I haven't noticed.”

Letting out a sigh, he finally confessed.

“I hate having to share you.”Joe mumbled and you let out a small laugh, leading him to make a face at you.

“Joey… Are you jealous of a two year old?” You asked not being able to keep it in any longer.

“No… yes… maybe.”

“You are too cute for your own good.” You told him as you got more comfortable and ran a hand through his hair.

“I literally haven't seen you this entire week. Can you blame me for missing my wife?” Joe asked as he kissed the tip of your nose.

“No I can't blame you, I've missed you all week too.”

“But yet you volunteered to watch our nephew.”

“To let Ja'Marr go on his date and besides, it's only for one night. And we want to get as much practice in as we can before having our own, right?”

“I guess, but making the baby is the fun part, I hear.”

“Hmm, I think I've heard that once or twice before.”

“But…. He's sleeping so…” Joe started to say as he trailed off and his right hand started to make its way underneath your shirt.

“You mean to tell me that you absolutely cannot wait under any circumstances?” You asked and he replied by shaking his head no.

“As soon as I saw that he was here, I told your twin to come and get his kid so that I could get laid.” He confessed, making you laugh once more.

“Why am I not surprised? But if we do, we have to be really quiet because the last thing I want to deal with is a grumpy cranky baby. If that's the case, you have to watch him for the rest of the day.”

“Why are you telling me that when you're the main one who has a volume control problem with her voice? Especially when I suck on your clit.” Joe asked as he kissed the shell of your ear and started to make his way down your neck.

“I see you don't have a smart ass comeback for me.” He added as both hands reached up behind you to undo your bra.

“Shut up before I change my mind and you know that I'm never going to let you live this down, right?”

“Maybe but, I got what I wanted in the end so I call this a win.” Joe told you as he was trying to get your shirt above your head.

[phoenixtalion]

@keferon

Hi, I don’t go here, but I wandered into your AU and weird twinks being restrained and messed with is relevant to my interests. I’d planned on just shoving this in your inbox on anon and running away but then it got too long for that.

@spector-author this is also your fault.

(Texaid anon, I am attempting to contact you psychically.)

[No actual gore, just a bit of Vortex thinking about it. EDIT: IT'S ALSO PORN sorry I had a forest/trees moment. >.<]

______________________________________________

It’s not the first time his pilot has dozed off in the chair, but only the second that First Aid has done so while wearing the control helmet. The first, he had been half-drugged, in pain, unconscious as much as asleep. Now, he is – well, he’s as safe and sound as any pilot is in one of these fucking deathtraps, which means he’s exhausted and anxious and probably dying slowly. But for now, the cockpit is warm and the LEDs are pulsing low and red like a heartbeat, and Felix is dreaming.

Vortex can’t ‘see’ the dream – even while First Aid is having it, it’s not like real sensory input, all hazy blurs and impressions. But he can read the biometrics, the elevated heart rate, and he can feel Felix’s arousal through the link.

Yeah, it’s a good dream. Vortex sinks deeper into the connection, stoking those feelings like blowing on an ember. Manipulating the neural link to cause feedback for his pilots is a trick he learned early on, but he’s always used it to cause pain or fear (hallucinations, even, but that makes things pop inside their head real fast.)

He’s never touched a pilot’s mind like this before, scalpel-light instead of brutal. Once, when his Aid had still needed coaxing to sit in his embrace, Vortex had promised not to hurt him, and he’d scoffed. How many other pilots did you say that to?

The answer was none. Not a single one. It had never even occurred to him.

The first couple he’d destroyed instantly out of sheer territorial rage at someone else invading his mecha. (The mechanics had ripped out the whole pilot interface and replaced it, but couldn’t find anything wrong, couldn’t find him.)

Then he’d taken to toying with them, waiting a few missions or killing them slowly, because he had nothing better to do to keep himself entertained, but he’d never bothered to talk to them.

And then he’d done it because every time he burnt out another pilot, they’d sent a cranky little disgraced medic to clean out his cockpit. His lack of squeamishness caught Vortex’s attention, so he’d tested it with bigger and more creative messes. Every time the EMT left, he took not only the fresh blood but layers of old, crusted viscera that everyone else had long stopped bothering with. First Aid is messing with him too, all the time, even if he doesn’t realize.

Vortex strokes across Felix’s slumbering brain in a way he thinks of like raking nails, many light but sharp points of contact. His pilot makes a little sound and squirms in his sleep, and he hastily makes sure he’s recording audio as well as video, because he’s going to want to relive this during the long hours when First Aid is away from his hangar.

More carefully than Vortex has ever done anything, he teases out individual strands in the neural network, finding exactly which parts are connected to making his pilot whimper and rock his hips up in search of friction he’s not going to get. First Aid has only got himself to blame – for teaching him how to vivisect things instead of just cutting them up, and how much fun it could be. Precision never used to thrill Vortex, until this little medic crawled inside him.

He thinks he could make Felix cum in his pants just by touching his fucked up little brain. He also knows he could kill him like this, so very easily, which only makes it more exciting. It’s never mattered if he slipped before, and it’s been so long since anything mattered.

First Aid whines softly, absently palming the crotch of his armor, and Vortex needs him awake, now. If he can’t fuck him properly, he can make sure his pilot knows exactly who is doing this to him. Disentangling himself from the other slightly, he considers what parts he does still have.

Vortex was a ghost in the machine, not a poltergeist; he could only move the parts of the mecha that were computer-controlled. Years of familiarity had given him a little leeway – shift just so, and that loose ceiling panel would drop open with a loud -bang- that had been good for a cheap scare the first few times his future pilot had cleaned up after the old ones – but not telekinesis.

(And you know what the fucking kicker was? Three weeks before he died, Vortex had pitched the engineers on installing a small arm inside the mecha’s head, so he could deal with debris in the unusually large cockpit without unhooking from the control system, after a fight where he’d spent the second half ignoring being whacked by a loose cable. Everyone had agreed it was a good idea that could be implemented fairly easily and oh, look, never got around to it. He could have done so much fun shit with one stupid little claw arm in the past four years.)

But since he has to work with what he’s got, Vortex abruptly engages the pilot harness. First Aid is roughly jerked back from his comfortable slouch and pinned tightly to the pilot’s seat. He wriggles sleepily against the restraints, confusion and irritation rising up out of warm oblivion as he wakes. Vortex waits with predatory attention for the moment he realizes his predicament, fully prepared to resort to more extreme measures if he tried to slip back into sleep.

There – the spike of panic, spreading like wildfire, as Felix becomes conscious enough to be aware that he is immobilized, achingly hard, and subject to Vortex’s undivided attention. Deliberately, he digs into that sweet spot in Felix’s mind until he gasps.

“Good morning, sunshine. Sleep well?” he purrs inside First Aid’s head. The medic’s eyes are wide behind his visor, and while the dim red light makes it impossible to see, the interface tells him how deeply he’s blushing.

“W-what the hell are you doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Vortex punctuates his words with a pointed stroke, reminding him that a minute ago First Aid had been enjoying what he was doing just fine.

He wouldn’t mind at all if Felix struggled. But just like the first time he’d sat in the pilot’s seat, when he’d been smart enough to keep his hands in his lap and away from the controls, he lays back and lets Vortex do whatever he wants. “Good boy.”

Felix shudders at the praise and the contact, turning his face into the headrest like that will let him hide from Vortex. But he’s surrounding the other pilot, entwined with him, doing things he doesn’t have words for and the interface sure as hell wasn’t designed for.

“Touch yourself for me,” he orders, and First Aid fumbles for his armor and uniform with gratifying haste. Vortex watches him eagerly from both inside and out – the way his hands tremble as he undoes his fly, the way he bites his lip on the first actual stroke of his cock.

The sensations are far more vivid now that First Aid is awake, very nearly real in a way that he can’t afford to stop and think about. Vortex had wanted to make Felix tease himself, drag things out and make him beg for release, but now that the end is approaching he’s just as desperate for it, maybe even more.

Vortex cuts himself from the rest of the mecha’s systems, focusing on his pilot until he can imagine it’s him with his hand wrapped around Felix’s cock, or the other way around, or both. In their minds, he squeezes, presses down as hard as he dares – probably harder than he should. There are worse ways to go, anyway. He would know.

“Vortex—” Felix gasps, arching his spine like he’s having a seizure, bucking against the straps hard enough to bruise. His mind goes white and takes Vortex’s with it (for what feels like long enough that it should be worrying but he really really doesn’t care) as he spills all over his own hand and lap.

Felix slumps in the restraints, boneless and panting. Drifting on his afterglow, Vortex lets himself pretend, just for a little while, that the other man is sprawled in his lap and not directly in the pilot’s seat, held in his arms rather than a safety harness. Which just goes to show that not having a body made you crazy, because he’d never gone in for any of that cuddly shit before.

The urge for a cigarette is so strong that First Aid reflexively pats his pocket for a pack that isn’t there.

“You’re always making messes I have to clean up,” he grumbles halfheartedly, wiping his hand on his already soiled flight suit.

Re-extending his awareness back into the mecha, Vortex can admire just what a lovely mess he is from the outside. The thought of First Aid having to do a walk of shame back to his bunk like this was almost enough to reconcile Vortex to having to let him out of the cockpit to get a fresh uniform. Almost.

“I made a mess?” Vortex laughs, and jabs a tender spot inside Felix, the equivalent of touching him while he’s still too sensitive, and doesn’t let up until he yelps.

“Yeah, you,” he retorts anyway, gasping for breath with a pouty little scowl Vortex finds adorable, and flips one of the mecha’s cameras the bird for good measure. “Are you going to let me up or what?”

“Maybe.” Fuck, he’s so cute Vortex wants to trap him in the cockpit until he suffocates. But instead he releases the harness, and absolutely doesn’t feel a pang when First Aid slips the helmet off, or another when he runs a hand through his sweaty hair and the dead pilot wishes he could be the one to do it. He watches Felix all the way out the hangar, ruthlessly ignoring the part of him that said it was a mistake to let him go.

It doesn’t matter, either, that instead of avoiding him like Vortex half dreads expects, First Aid is back in a couple hours, freshly showered and changed, and curls up in his stupid little nest in the back of the cockpit like nothing has changed.

______________________________________________

*slinks back into their crevice*

[capricornlevi]

"workin' new years for the third time in a row should be illegal," atsumu scoffs, shoving another fistful of popcorn into his mouth. he's perched up on the glass counter closest to the exit, meaning he can slip off quickly if the cranky night manager sticks his head out of his office to check up on you two. "who wants to spend midnight in a movie theatre, anyway?"

you sigh, more fond than frustrated. "you've worked three new year's eves in a row and still don't know the appeal of our late night when harry met sally showing? it sells out by Halloween."

you're sitting in front of the register, having dragged some old folding chairs out from storage to rest on until close. the lobby is dead, and you've got an eye on the security cams to see if anyone leaves the packed screen down the hallway. if you're being forced to work late into the night, you'll at least be comfortable.

you hear a door creak and pause, checking to see if you're about to be scolded for pouring yourself another slushee on the company dime. when no manager surfaces, you return to the conversation, with atsumu stifling his yawn with more popcorn.

"'course i know about it," he chimes back, running his non-popcorn-holding hand through his messy blond hair. "just don't get it, is all, and i don't know why we're always the ones stuck on the holiday shifts, 'specially since we already did christmas eve."

"we're college students, 'tsumu. bottom of the pecking order in terms of festive rostering, i'm afraid."

he sighs, checking the clock behind the nacho display case -- you follow suit, seeing the second hand tick closer and closer to midnight. four minutes til new years, another thirty-ish before closing.

"want a refill on that slushee?" atsumu asks, sliding off the counter and stretching out his shoulders. his black t-shirt lifts slightly and you make an effort to ignore the toned muscles peeking out from underneath. "also -- those chairs look more comfortable than the counter, so I'm gonna steal one too."

even if you didn't know he was captain of the college volleyball team, you could likely guess from the strength in those arms as he shifts some boxes out of the way to take a seat next to you.

"yes please," you answer sweetly, a beat too late, throwing him a beaming smile as he rolls his eyes in mock annoyance.

as he gets back up, he calls out, "cherry, right?"

something flutters through your chest as you call back to him, "right."

"heathen. blue raspberry is superior in every way."

it's your turn to scoff now. "there's no such thing as a blue raspberry, it's a made-up flavour. at least everyone knows cherries are red."

atsumu appears at your side again, handing you the drink. as you accept it with a smile, he places one of his cold hands on your forearm, laughing as you wince and shift away.

"you're ridiculous," you say, half-chuckling and half-earnest. "here i am, spending new years eve toiling away with you, and this is the respect i get."

"i never promised respect -- i promised slushees," he points out, eyes glinting as you meet them. "and we're not exactly toilin' away, i gotta admit."

you take a long sip of your slushee, hoping your lips don't stain red before the customers file out later.

atsumu clears his throat awkwardly, as if he's debating finishing the sentence.

"and it's not so bad, with you," he continues slowly, almost sheepishly.

in the years you've worked together, you have never heard him sound so ... earnest. turning your head to meet his eyes again, you see them diverted to his hands.

"not so bad with you, either, 'tsumu," you reply softly.

he looks back up to you. "i mean it, y'know. even if i wasn't workin', i wouldn't mind ... bein' with you. i mean -- i'd -- i'd like it, spendin' new years with you ..."

"i know what you mean," you gently interrupt him for both your sakes -- his, to relieve him of his uncharacteristically anxious rambling, and yours, so you can figure out how to get your heart beating at a normal pace. you turn in your chair to face him properly, lips curled up into a small, barely-there and very overwhelmed smile.

just as he's about to say something else, you see his eyes flick back to the clock.

"ten seconds," he mumbles, a few strands of hair falling into his forehead. you reach your hand to brush them out of the way for him.

"five," you smile, dipping your head in closer, and when you see atsumu do the same, you continue.

"three."

"two."

"one."

it's a slow kiss, slower than you'd ever expected. atsumu never did things slowly, never took things at any pace other than chaotic, but this is different. he handles you carefully, his hand at the nape of your neck as he pulls you closer to him, lips moving against yours as if savouring every part of every second he gets to do this. as though he's imagined it as much as you have.

you kiss him until you feel as though you're running out of air. when you finally pull away, you marvel at the light pink flush painting atsumu's pretty cheekbones, the look of longing written across the rest of his features, the way his eyes battle between focusing on your face or your lips.

"happy new year, 'tsumu," you whisper, and his smile matches your own.

"happy new year," he says, hushed and low, before leaning in to kiss you again.

you have another twenty-five minutes, after all. and for the first time in your time working here, you're grateful that this theatre schedules when harry met sally so late into the night.

[little-saw]

sys LITTLE + sys CG ! doey doughman headcanons !! ☆ *

( part 2 )

Before you read, I'm making a few rules / disclaimers. I am not a part of a system. I made this as both a req and a way of beginning to learn how to write hcs for systems. Any and all (gentle) criticism is welcomed! I headcanon Doey to be a part of a system with the 3 kids in his body. Finally, I will not tolerate discourse, I have no interest in listening to fights about who is and who isn't valid. I don't care about your views. Do not discuss them here.

Req by anon :)

• Doey's system originates from the young children combined in their body, as well as the traumatic event that involved such.

• Doey experiences bad dissociative episodes. They got especially bad when Poppy left. Matthew, who is the systems caregiver, was able to regress around her, so her leaving was very triggering.

• Their episodes are disabling and disorientating, but they try to push them down so as not to scare the little toys.

• Their collective name is, of course, Doey the Doughman, and their connection to their human names has disappeared with time.

• They don't exactly have a "host," they share a body made for them and have equal amounts of identity amongst it.

• Jack is their systems little, being the first body in Doey, his trauma and fear can easily affect the others in their system. Usually agitating Kevin or making Matthew anxious.

• Kevin took the form as a protector to cope with the abuse and trauma all 3 experienced. He tends to front mostly when they collectively are all upset. He is extremely moody and aggressive, as well as impulsive.

• Matthew fronts the most, as he is the most mature. He acts as the systems caregiver, proving comfort to the others during times of pain. Both in his system and the toys around him.

• Kevin and Matthew are very protective and brotherly to Jack.

• They have a few other alters, but those were not once physical human beings such as the 3 boys.

• On nights where Jack is fussy, Matthew will care for him, reassuring him he's safe and they'll have dinner in the morning. And one day, he'll be home to mommy and daddy.

• Kevin has ADHD, which ended up spreading to their entire new body. Doey spends time stimming by singing and humming their old theme song. as well as clapping, wiggling, and stretching their limbs

• These are also grounding techniques for when they feel somewhat switchy.

• Kevin tries not to regress, not wanting to be seen as weak, however occasionally he does slip.

• He's an impure regressor, much more violent and cranky than Jack is. But Matthew knows how to handle him.

[imfinereallyy]

Bedside Manner

for @acasualcrossfade request for "the infection has spread"

"Some birdie told me that you have been causing a fuss, Wayne, is that true?"

Wayne huffs from his hospital bed, glasses sliding down his nose. He places the newspaper he was reading on the table beside him. "You tell that Robbie of yours to stop exaggerating. It was only a small request."

Steve raises his eyebrows at his favorite patient (Dustin tells him he isn't supposed to have favorites, but he also used to cry anytime he picked up Max before him when they were younger, so what does he know) and gives him a knowing look. "Robin listens to no man, Wayne, you know this. You're better off sending that message through her wife. Besides, small? She was telling me you refused to have any other nurse help you because I wasn't here last night. Which surprised me since you are always pushing me on about taking a vacation. "

Wayne opens his mouth, but Steve presses on. "And the fact Robin was even in the room means they called a psych consult, so I can only imagine how bad it was."

Wayne grumbles like a little kid being scolded for getting his hands caught in the cookie jar. "Yea, well, it was a bad night, kid."

Steve feels his shoulders sag, he takes off his glasses and rubs a hand down his face before placing them back on. "Sorry, Wayne, I had a bad migraine last night. Nance and Robs wouldn't even let me pass the entrance. Bad news?"

"Kid, don't stress yourself out over me. I'm just your patient, and more so, I am just a cranky old man." Wayne patted Steve's knee as he sat down next to him.

"C'mon, Wayne. You're more than that. I'd like to think seeing you in and out of here the last year has made us friends. Although I gotta say, you're the only friend I have that I'll be glad if I don't get to see again, given the circumstances. So, what's the news?"

"The infection has spread."

Steve takes in a deep breath, he tries not to panic, but any infection in a hospital can be deadly, especially for a cancer patient like Wayne. "Incision site?"

Steve must not be as good at hiding his emotions as he used to be because Wayne jumps to ease his worry. "No, kid, don't worry. The surgery was a success. Just got that hospital fever, the good old bronchitis. But it just means I'm here longer than I have to. It also means my nephew is on edge, and I don't know if I can take a second longer of his hovering."

Steve laughed wetly, thankful for the topic change. "Ah yes, the mysterious nephew of yours that I've never met. The way you talk about him almost tempts me into switching to the day shift, sounds like he might be entertaining. But only almost."

"Always wondered why you were always working the nights, most of the others seem to switch. Not a big fan of the day?"

Steve shakes his head gently, "No, I like the quiet here at night. Like getting to know the patients without having to worry about fixing ten million things. Don't get me wrong, it has its downfalls. Like the doctors can be horrible at night, never tell Dr. Wheeler that or Robbie will kill me, and the food is awful. But there is something special about it here at night. So sorry, your ridiculous nephew isn't enough to tempt me."

Wayne smirked, "What if I told you he was a looker and single?"

Steve blushes slightly. He is used to patients trying to pawn him off to their relatives, it came with being a young male nurse, but typically it didn't phase him. But Steve has become close with Wayne, so hearing him suggest he get together with his nephew has him flustered. "I'm good, Wayne, thanks. Gave up on the dating scene a while ago. Not many people can keep up with a guy who works nights and suffers from severe head trauma."

"Shame, Eddie likes the nights too. I'd reckon yal would get along."

"I'm pretty sure we would need more than that, Wayne."

Wayne smiles fondly at Steve. "You don't need a whole lot to build a connection, son. Me and Linda, god rest her soul, only started dating for our mutual love of mugs. And we may not have had long together, but our love was strong. Besides, there is more yal would have in common than just the night shift."

Steve huffs a laugh, "Oh yea, like what?" The least he can do is humor the man.

"Well, you both care about me deeply."

Steve blushes again, "C'mon, Wayne. I'm your nurse. I'm kinda paid to care."

Wayne won't hear any of it, "No, son, it's more than that. You take your break in here every night. You make sure to record the game at home for me because they only have the news here. And last night, you tried to come in with a migraine, even though we both know I am the only patient you can stand right now."

Steve doesn't know what to say back. Wayne is right, of course. Steve has been spending all of his time with the man, giving him extra care. Steve isn't bad with his other patients, he goes above and beyond most of his coworkers, but there is something special about Wayne.

"You got nothing, kid, you know I'm right. Remind me a lot of my nephew. Before visiting hours ended is when I got the news of having to stay longer. Kid almost threw a fit when they kicked him out. Swore he was gonna break in to stay the night with me. I told him not to worry since you would be there, I brag about you too, ya know. When he found out today you weren't here, that boy threw a fit again. Swear he gets his tantrums from his father. Said he was gonna sneak back in tonight. Make sure I had company. That 'the man' couldn't stop him. That if he ran into you, he was gonna have a word with you."

Steve can't help the snort that shakes his body, "I'd like to see him get passed Hop first."

Wayne starts to chuckle, too, "Eds may have had his fair share of escaping the law, but no man moves as fast as Jim in a security uniform."

Steve is fully laughing now, "I know, right? It's like those pants make him aerodynamic or something. No way your nephew is getting by."

It is almost as if Steve's words summon what happens next. There in the doorway is the most gorgeous man he's ever seen, even though he is bent over and out of breath.

"Eds?" Wayne questions, clearly surprised. Steve has to mask his face and quickly before Wayne catches him ogling his nephew. Steve is finding it difficult, though. The man, Eddie, despite his out-of-breath appearance, is stunning. His long curly hair is thrown up in a bun, showing off the piercings up his ears. His clothes are simple but suiting, ripped jeans and a black band tee. Tattoos cover his entire body, and Steve wants to ask about every single one of them.

The most surprising thing about him isn't that he got by Hop (although he has questions for that later), no the most surprising thing to Steve is that Wayne somehow knew his exact type, which most people assume wrong in that department.

Eddie awakens an old craving inside Steve that he thought he had buried long ago.

"Wayne, you would not believe what I just went to get up here. The story I have for you, oh boy. You're gonna love it. Who knew security guards could move that fast. Anyway, I hope that nurse boy of yours is here tonight because I am ready to—" Eddie stops mid-rant when his eyes land on Steve, a lovely blush blossoming across his pale cheeks.

"I believe what you are trying to say is, what was it, Wayne? Oh yea, 'have a word with me,'" Steve laughs softly.

Eddie sputters, "Wayne!?!" His blushing becomes deeper as the seconds pass by.

Wayne just chuckles as Steve stands. "Don't be mad at your Uncle, I think he was just trying to make me feel better. I am sorry I wasn't here last night for the news. Got my head knocked around too much as a kid—" Steve taps his head with his knuckles, "—so I suffer from migraines sometimes. I really did try to come in, but well—you met Jim. He's pretty fast." Steve worries his lip. Eddie's eyes follow.

"Well, I can't be too mad now, can I?" Eddie swallows nervously before a smirk spreads across his face, switching from shy to confident in two seconds flat. Steve shouldn't be turned on by that. "The pretty face helps too. I'm pretty sure you could convince me to give you my kidney right about now. I'm Eddie, which I know you know by now, and you are...?"

Steve puts his hand out for a shake, "Nurse Harrington. But most people call me Steve."

Eddie grabs his hand gently and brings the back of it to his lips. "Stevie, a pleasure, really." A light kiss is placed on Steve's knuckles. Stevie, he thinks. That's a new one. And he isn't mad about it, at all. In fact, the butterflies in his stomach want him to get Eddie to say it again.

Steve catches Wayne's smug face in the corner of his eye as Steve begins to blush again.

"I'm just gonna—I'll be right back." Steve stutters.

"Leaving so soon?" Eddie says disappointed.

Steve has the sudden urge to fix the frown on his face. "No, no! Just, uh, gonna call Jim and tell him not to send out a search party. That it's okay if you stay. I'll keep an eye on you."

Eddie's face breaks out into a brilliant smile, "Really, Stevie? You gonna keep me around?"

Steve's heart skips a beat, "If I can help it."

***

[balrogballs]

had sudden brainrot about the Noldolantë in bed and wrote this little ficlet up on my phone for the @maedhrosmaglorweek prompt ‘Ship Burnings’ — also featuring one of the most tragically romantic characters in the legendarium — Círdan.

“I never liked the Noldolantë,” Círdan tells Maglor placidly, one evening. It is partway through the Third Age and the two old-new friends are sitting over the shipwright’s roaring fire and terribly cranky red wine. “It had always seemed wrong to me.”

“Ah, Círdan the bard speaks,” Maglor jests for a moment, before nodding seriously. “No, I am sorry, I understand. A commemoration of our fall at the cost of yours. I do not fault you for such a thought.”

“No,” Círdan laughs softly. “It is not so. If I were to turn up my nose at every lament written by those who have shed blood, I would never have time to look where I’m going. All songs are playing fields. In all songs, you can turn the point inwards. The right pitch, the right tune, can shake off blame from your most visible limbs, reattach it somewhere quieter, somewhere you must strain to find it.”

“Anyone can and will defeat blame with songs, try to represent things that cannot be represented. With any song, one can gild regret, slide past rigid law and blind justice. The Noldolantë is not unique in that regard. No, my friend — my problem with your ballad is not that you have commemorated the fall of the Noldor. It is because you have your dates wrong. It is because to me, it was not at Alqualondë that the Noldor truly fell.”

“Did we not?” Maglor raises his eyebrows, and then frowns. “Do you mean Doriath, then?”

“No,” Círdan chuckles, rises gracefully and moves across to the mantelpiece, lifting up a fragile-looking glass bottle sealed with wax. When he blows off the dust, Maglor’s eyes widen, recognising a shape he will never forget.

“One of the old Teleri vessels?” he asks quietly. Círdan nods, waves him over and places his finger on the glass, pointing halfway up the matchstick-thin mast.

“See here? There was a spot — a small wicker basket — in every Teleri vessel of Aman, up the foremast, carefully calibrated so that when you stood upon it you would seem to be standing still upon the water and you would not see the boat or its sails at all,” he tells Maglor, both reproachful and wistful at once.

“And you would look around and find yourself surrounded by the sea’s repeating, re-churning endless rhythms, this unchanging change in which you begin to catch emergent patterns, as isolated as you are to yourself and these quiet sums. You feel then that you are in correspondence with the world, cutting across Valar and Maiar and envoy and emissary, no, none of that — just you. The waves made highlands and lowlands, the stars and their crustal luminosity, plentitude and possibility all around you, even if just for those transitory minutes you stand in that wicker basket.”

“They say the earth in that moment… that it is a beauty beyond compare. Oh Maglor, my friend, they say it is beautiful in the way whalesong is beautiful.”

“I had always wanted to know how they did it. I tried and tried, but I could never get it right. It is an art, as you must know, being a lover of the arts yourself, every calculation that goes into a ship is an art, and a promise. That you will get to the other side, that you will have a moment of beauty beyond compare, and that you will return. Such arts cannot be learned through hearsay — one would need to touch the vessel, if not the hands of those who made it. I had always, always wanted to stand in that basket and look upon the world at its most radiant.”

He looks at Maglor with eyes that tunnel all the way to Valinor. “To me, the Noldolantë was wrong. The Valar were wrong. You spilled blood upon Aman and you would have been rightly punished, perhaps cruelly, but we are an enduring race. We would have invented systems, laws, just and unjust punishments and redemptions. You had fallen at Alqualondë, but it was in Losgar that you sunk.”

“When we burned the ships,” Maglor swallows hard, the smoke catching in his throat, as acrid as it was millennia ago. “When we set fire to the Teleri vessels we had taken. Is that what you mean?”

The shipwright does not nod, and nor does he shake his head. “Yes, though I see you do not understand why. Yes, I mean the burning. When your father ordered the ships to be set ablaze and you seven stayed silent.”

“But Maedhros d—“ Maglor is not blind to his brother’s faults but he is loyal beyond all, and the truth was that the only thing that broke through the silencing roar of the ship-burning was Maedhros begging Fëanor, truly begging, having actually fallen at his father’s feet. One ship, he had begged. Leave just one, please, Atya, leave just one — again and again until the words were irrevocably entwined with Maglor’s memory of the event.

“You seven,” the other sternly cuts across his reminiscing. “And your father, and all the lords, and all the stableboys, all of you caught up only in those left behind. Maedhros was the most noble on that night, but he too mourned for a love song, one that his own heart sung.”

“Love with its brightness turned him to mercy for fear of darkness, his grief, his falling at your father’s feet — they were all for Fingon and his people, for those of your house who crossed the wasteland. His tears upon the sand, his insistence on begging and pleading until the last coal faded, were noble. I will never take that from him. Of course they were noble actions — for he thought of his fellow cousins, his lover, the women and children who crossed the ice, when the rest stayed silent. Still, my friend, his song too, was for the Noldor.”

Maglor nods, for he is big enough to admit such things these days, no longer leaning on poetry to prop up his hollows. “So was our silence. So were our thoughts.”

“And so it was not only a people that you slayed, my friend. It was a song you silenced,” says the shipwright, still cradling the bottle, his fingers leaving soft marks on the dusty glass. “A song you never tried to hear. The ship-carvers were slain, and then their craft set ablaze — for what? Every single vessel, every single promise. Not one left. For what? For what amounted to a symbol bright red in the distance, like a fallen star. That, to me, will always be the Noldolantë, Maglor. Not the violence, but the silence after.”

Leave just one, thinks Maglor. Just one, Atya. Maedhros’ awful keening, the great and terrible burning, his father’s frenzied speech, the ashes dissolving in salt and forming a great black circle around Losgar, Maedhros’ voice matching his father’s word for word until the final ember faded. And then nothing at all.

Círdan runs a finger around the wax sealing shut the ship within. In the bottle, it is safe, this swan — and it is silent. Its sides are painted with little flecks meant to reflect the stars. Beauty beyond compare, Maglor cannot help but think. When he looks up again, he sees the shipwright’s eyes brim over with tears, though he is smiling at him. Círdan holds up the bottle — traces the glass over the thimble sized wicker basket, two inches from the thing itself.

“Beautiful in the way whalesong is beautiful,” he whispers reverently. “Imagine that.”

[therealcocoshady]

love your work so much!!! could you write hc's on how marshall would be like while you're on your period please? (im on mine rn and need some comfort 😭😭)

Hi ❤️ thank you for your request ! Ironically, I am on my period as well ! Good luck ☺️. I hope you enjoy these HCs !

Marshall dealing with your period HCs

- He is a grown-ass 51 year-old man who raised three daughters so he knows about menstrual cycles and he understands just how awful it must be to experience.

- Overall, it’s not a big deal to him. Blood stains on the bedsheets ? It happens. You being cranky because of those cramps ? Makes sense.

- If you ask him to buy pads or tampons, you’re going to have to be specific, though. Because the aisle at the supermarket is pretty big, lots of brands and options and he gets overwhelmed. He ends up buying a bit of everything and you end up with a whole supply.

- With time, though, he gets familiar with your preferences and memorizes them.

- He is good at caring for you usually and your period is no exception : he buys your comfort food and prepares it for you, brings you your hot water bottle, cuddles with you, rubs your belly to help with the cramping…

- It’s also strategic though : he knows how cranky you can get and he doesn’t want to end up on your bad side.

- He’s pretty lenient with you when you’re cranky because he knows these cramps hurt like hell but if you’re too bitchy, he will absolutely clap back at you.

- If you’re the super emotional type, he makes fun of you. Because crying over the fact that no one buys the ugly lemons at the supermarket is a little extreme… (But he makes it a point to buy the ugliest lemons for you next time he goes to the supermarket)

- He’s not really bothered by bloodstains but he’s not really into period sex.

- That being said, he will absolutely take care of your desires if you’re horny on your period. It’s just another opportunity to explore.

- He also makes it a point to make you come even harder because orgasms help ease the pain 👀

[hehearse]

hi hearse. im not here with painful songs this time!!! i just wanted to ask what some of your favorite han yoojin moments are !! ^^ because im thinking about how much i fuckign love him

CRAWLS TO THIS ASK. YOOJIN MOMENTS....

good thing a cough cough forgot about all the asks cough. cause i gained a new favorite moment or two which i am sure you can relate to.

in no particular order i present to you:

-"evacuate your fish". amazing. yoojin got ghosted and turned to violence and bombing of shj's house. as he should might i add. (i think it's both extremely funny - you cannot ignore that man anymore or you WILL suffer damages. yoojin WAS ignored by yoohyun for years before, and it seems that. it's his general response. to chase after to AT LEAST get some explanation. and it's good that, pardon the way it sounds, he feels secure enough to bully his way into shj's house to do just that. it's nice, i think.)

-yoojin. roleplaying a fucking puppy in the vr dungeon and then in china. barking at the people that keep him captive. something about him doing that assuming his support system member (shj) just lost his memory and he can let himself play still. vs doing that WHILE being separated from all the support systems including the literal system. and doing that while knowing well what's gonna happen. yoojin.... you are. well. i see what you are. he really is just like yoohyun in his nice friends/family face vs nasty outsiders temper. good <3

-meeting the guy that bullied yoohyun back when the kid just awakened and proceeding to murder him on the spot. amazing. caretaker of the year. <3

-the "han yoohyun's world" chapters, or, to be exact, him panicking beyond the screen watching yoohyun questly die with his corpse in his hands. something about it. coughs blood. feeling normal.

-also him singing in karaoke in that vr dungeone extra and then sleeping in a big kids pile (i def remember yoohyun tucked to his side and maybe yerim. and i think sigma made his way into that bed too). it was cute.

ANYWAY. yoojin. the guy you areeee. aghhhhhhh

i just love him in general to be honest. his inner monologue is amazing. very funny too. and his effect on people (and monsters around), contrasted by his bitter thoughts and nasty temper when he is not around people he loves. cranky old man behavior <3

[onskepa]

Sorry about what I writed earlier at my request you can delete my request but can I suggest to write a story with mother Neytiri and spider Gwen reader where she user to be abused by skypeople for her powers before she met Neytiri who took her under her wing and you can create the rest yourself because I am curios how you will end it:) but of course only if you want to.

Oooooooooooohhh spider man back to back! I love it! Okie, I have a lose idea for this. I type as I go. Hope you like it!

P.S: reader will also be able to breathe pandora air!

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

Ghostly bruises

Spiders are scary creatures. Multiple legs and multiple eyes. Small yet strong. Never underestimate their size. Many carry venom and that is enough to take down anything. Their webs to lure in prey, create a home for themselves. Their eyes to see in many directions and legs to crawl faster. 

Many underestimate what they can do. What they're capable of. When push comes to shove, spiders will attack. And when they attack, you better hope that you make it out alive. They may be small, harmless, but a spider does what it does best. Lure you into their web and trap you to meet your demise. 

Your pov

“HEY! GET UP BUG!” 

Damn it. Damn it all. I just want at least 1 hour of sleep. Is that too much to ask? Apparently not for these people. 

I don't really have a choice. I should be grateful that they didn't pour cold water to wake me up. So that is something. 

Putting on that skin tight suit I wear, I get ready for another mission. 

The suit, while tight in every way, was one the few comforts I have. Personally designed it to my liking. I'm just glad they did not force me to wear what they wanted me to wear. 

Wearing all my favorite colors, and a hoodie as a plus. 

I make my way to general Ardmore. That old cranky woman. How is she not retired is beyond me. 

“Rise and shine bug, got a new mission for you” she tells me. There is always a new mission. Once I'm done with one, she quickly gives me another, leaving very little to no room for rest. Even my advanced stamina needs to recharge! 

“What is it this time?” I ask, as patient as I can. 

“An import train will be passing the valley in the south in 15 hours. If you don't know already, there is a cave the train has to pass through. Clever blues hide in the dark to amish. Your job is to cover any holes, edges, corners, and nooks with your webs. You have 10 hours to get it done. We don't want any surprises” 

Is she serious?

“10 hours? Do you have any idea how large that cave is? I will be dry within 5!” I argue. 

Ardmore just rolls her eyes, that bitch. 

“Not my problem. Get to it, now” 

“Now hold on there-AAARRGGHH!!” I felt that familiar electrical hit on my back. Falling on my side, I see her goons got that shock stick. They continue to shock me, my sides, neck, hip. They love to torment me. 

“Get up bug, I don't want you wasting time” 

“Y-yes ma’am” I said weakly. 

I hate sounding weak. It only enforces their view on me. A bug, a mere insect they can step on. 

Third pov 

There was a tip given from the science guys that a train would pass through the starlight cave. Within a few hours it would pass but the steam the train releases would damage the nocturne creatures living in that cave. They were rare creatures as their way of life is rather fragile. Anything can easily ruin their environment and their lives. 

Neytiri took the stand to lead a group of warriors to protect the cave and set up traps before the train would even make an appearance. Neytiri was not afraid, she would trample down any machine or demon that dares to hurt her planet. 

This mission would be no different. 

Norm said they had only a limited time to set up defense areas and traps. So no time is to be wasted. 

So neytiri goes with some trusted warriors. 

Upon arriving at the cave, there was already the sight of sky demons. Lying low, neytiri and the other na’vi would silently scatter as they took aim at the entrance of the cave. 

From what they can see, 6 humans were guarding the entrance, from time to time turning around to talk to someone that was inside. So there were more. Its fine. 

Neytiri has taken down hundreds within minutes. This would be nothing. 

“HEY BUG! GO FASTER ON THOSE WEBS!” one of the humans shouted. 

Two of them muttered to each other, grinning in a sickening way. Then two of the 6 guards went inside the cave while pulling out two electrical rods. 

Neytiri hates those rods. She has been hit with those once, never again does she want to feel that painful experience. Seeing them again, she wonders who will be receiving the end of those shocks. 

Shaking her head, she signals the other na’vi to strike. 

Pulling back her bow, neytiri takes aim, and like a silent rain, all arrows landed perfectly onto their targets. Good, 4 down, few more to go. 

Signaling the other warriors to go inside the cave, Neytiri runs towards the entrance. She notices there is a small light blue flickering light deep in the cave. Along with evil laughter and someone screaming. They sounded to be in so much pain. Not wasting another second neytiri and the other na’vi ran further into the cave and saw a horrific sight. 

The two humans use their electrical rods to shock and torture a young person. They laugh as they poke the person around. Clearlying enjoying the person's suffering. 

“STOP IT!! STOP IT!!!” It sounded like a young girl. Her voice cracking, trying to get away from the two humans but they only get closer. 

“COME ON BUG! GET BACK TO WORK!” one of them shouts, aiming for her wrists. 

Her whole body shakes, unable to say any words of protest. 

Neytiri couldn't handle to hear the painful screams anymore, letting out a war cry she aimed right at the heart of the human who brings pain to the young girl. With one swift move, the arrow went right through, making the first human fall to the side, bleeding out. 

The second human didnt react in time as one of the other na’vi shot their arrow through the human’s head, an instant kill. 

The rods fell from their grips, neytiri kicks them away. 

“See if there are anymore” she says, the other na’vi comply and scatter for any more humans. 

Looking down at poor girl, neytiri oddly couldn't help but feel terrible for her. Looking at her body frame, she looks to be very young. 

The girl was in a fetal position, her arms sprawled out, her wrists having terrible bruises. And not just the wrist, her face filled with scars and more bruises. Neytiri can tell she went through some terrible things. 

“Mawey…” she whispers, reaching down to touch the girl but hears a whisper. 

“Please….no more….I cant…” was all the girl said before she passed out. 

Neytiri looks at her, after witnessing what the other humans have done, she cant let the girl be alone. Who knows what she has been through, and what more she could go through if more humans come soon. So making a quick decision, neytiri gently picks up the girl, cradling her like she would with her other children. 

“Neytiri, there are no more but we noticed something” one of the na’vi returns to report to neytiri. 

“What is it?” she asks. 

“There are white strands on the other end of the cave. They feel a bit sticky, and light. Almost like the kinglor silk, but different. We don't know what it is or what animal could cause it”. 

Neytiri wants to take the girl back to the village, but there is a goal to meet. 

“Come, we will return to the village for more help” she says 

Your pov 

I woke up strangely on something soft. Like cotton. No one screamed to wake me up. I felt well rested. Scanning my area, it looks like Im in a tent. I can see the sunlight peaking in, unfamiliar smells I never smelled before. Most of all, its noisy, but not a bad noisy. I can hear distant animals, vague chatter, leaves brushing against each other. 

Clearly, I'm not at the RDA base. 

I dont remember what happened, just that I was webbing one side of the cave and then- 

Oh. 

Thats right. 

Steve and Greg were torturing me again. Using the rods to poke at me. They must have been that bored if guarding the entrance to the cave was easy. 

That still doesnt explain how I am here. 

“Oh good, you are awake, I was worried” 

A female voice spoke, slow english words but with a heavy accent. 

I turned to see a na’vi. Oh my god. 

She was so tall! Like really, really tall! 

“Its alright, I am not going to hurt you. My name is neytiri” the na’vi tells me. Keeping a distance between us. 

Is this really happening right now? 

Third pov 

Neytiri really didn't understand why she brought the young human into her village. After explaining to her mother what she witnessed, mo’at believed it was good that neytiri saved the young girl. They know humans don't treat their own kind well. 

Yet neytiri can't help but feel slightly skeptical about the girl. When the girl was passed out, she observed the girl in great detail. From the odd clothing she was wearing which almost looked like a second skin, to her mask, her stature, everything. 

Using herbal medicines, thankfully the nasty bruises were fading but her complexion seemed pale, not a healthy pale. As if she hasn't been exposed to the outside world that much. 

So many questions neytiri wants to ask, some no doubt would be sensitive to ask the young girl. She can wait, for now she just wants to treat the girl, no mattering why the need to do it. 

Is it her motherly instincts perhaps? 

Neytiri worries for her children a lot, especially her youngest. Maybe it is projection as her husband would say. Who knows, what she does know is that the girl is safe from those who harmed her. 

Your pov

“Are you feeling alright?” the na’vi asks me. 

I guess I didnt respond fast enough, still trying to process what I am looking at. 

“I…um…wait, you speak english?” I ask. 

The na’vi nods, smiling a bit. 

“Yes, I know how to speak it. I was taught very young” 

I honestly don't know much about na'vi. I have only seen a handful and most exposure I get is from the newly awakened recom avatars. 

“W-why am I here?” I hesitantly ask. Hoping she doesn't end me or hurt me any further. 

“I saw you getting hurt, they laughed at your pain. I had to stop it” she tells me. 

Looking down at my hands, remembering the cave. 

Wait, the cave! 

Quickly I got up, walking a bit wobbly towards her. She has to know! 

“A train! There will be a large train machine going through the cave! Its going to carry a lot of weapons and other things!!” I said rather a bit fast. 

She holds me tightly so that I dont fall, seeing the comparison of my arm to her hand, she can easily pick me up like a doll if she wanted to. 

“Yes, we know. Thank you for telling me. We will put traps to stop it from going” 

I shake my head, “no no, they will surround the train with shooters! They wanted me to also set traps and cover the cave! They don't want anything to interrupt it! Please! I don't know how much time has passed but its going to arrive soon!” I plead. 

Urgency was all I felt and thought of. Ardmor would kill me if she knew I was spilling their plans to the na’vi. At this point, I dont care, if the na’vi can stop the train, it would piss off ardmore, something I would love to see. 

“Cover? What do you mean cover?” the na’vi asks. 

Oh god, do I tell her? I already confessed a big chunk. 

“D-dont…dont freak out ok? I can do this….I raise my wrist, aiming at the tent pole and shot out a web string. 

Third pov 

Neytiri has never seen any human do that. Ever. 

It was the same thing the warriors found in the cave. And it comes out of her arms?? 

“I have…powers. I can shoot these things called webs. They are strong, sticky, and durable. I can do things no human can. At the cave, the RDA wanted me to use my webs to make traps and clear the way for the train” the girl explains. 

Neytiri slowly nods, taking in this newfound information. 

In her conclusion, the humans were using her like a tool. What happened at the cave, clearly the girl isnt saying a whole lot more. They probably dont see her as an equal in their species. 

“I hated doing it….please dont take me back! Please, I can help! I can show you what more I can do but please dont send me to the others!” the girl begs. Tears ready to fall from her eyes. 

“Sshhh….its alright, I won't sent you anywhere you dont like” neytiri comforts the girl. Bringing her in for a tight embrace. She is so small, so thin. Do they starve her? Restrict her food access? 

“You are safe here. I won't make you do things you dont like. My home can be your new home if you like” neytiri offers. 

The girl looks up at her, hope twinkling in her eyes. 

“R-really?” 

Third pov

“This is ghost. I have my eyes on the target, they are closing in” the young girl whispers into her mic. Observing RDA soldiers walking through the forest.

She stands upside down from a tall tree branch, a web sling already out stretched to move to the next tree.

“They are making their way to the spot” she reports. She swings to the other tree, landing with no sound. Eagerly she sees the soldiers walking right into her trap.

6 soldiers walking on foot, 10 in their new AMP suits.

Easy.

One of the soldiers stepped on the trigger, the ground they stood on was false as a camouflage cover moved to reveal spikes at the bottom. The soldiers fell into their deaths. Arrows began to fly towards the amp suits just as they were shooting at random.

She can see her fellow na’vi moving around in the foliage to avoid the bullets. That is her cue.

Swinging around in circles, the girl shoots at the glass windows and the guns. Covering their vision and aim. But she does more, carefully she aims her webs at the foot of the amp suits so that they dont move, some tripping themselves.

“GO GO GO!” she shouts, the na’vi aims their arrows at the windows of the suits, going straight through the humans that were inside. While a lot, the fight lasted a few minutes with her and the na’vi winning this fight.

Landing down, the girl looks for anything salvageable to bring back home.

“Well done my daughter”

Smiling, the girl turns to her mother, neytiri.

“Thank you my child, however I would prefer if you just stayed home,” neytiri says as she places a kiss on the girls head.

“Im fine mom, besides, with my webs, we took them down way faster. Plus, no one got shot. Less injures and more success”

While that was true, neytiri knows some raids or fights remind her daughter of her past.

“I understand, but I cannot help but worry for you. Those machines almost got you” she tells.

“Almost, but I am fast”

Chuckling, neytiri holds her daughter close, “yes, you are very fast my love”

The girl happily basks in her mothers embrace. She likes this, being held, it never gets old. Since that day, the girl loves physical affection, her new mother proves abundance and never rejects her.

Life has been easy for her, enjoyable and makes her look forward to tomorrow. Yes, the girl would sometimes think back on her past. The things she went through, at times she can feel the phantom pains from her tortures. Would rub her arms or face where the bruises used to be. But its less now.

The girl loves her new life and is forever thankful of her mother saving her. Having a new family, love, a home, it is all she ever wanted. To hell with Ardmore and her plans with the RDA. The girl for sure cant wait to see that old hag and rub it on her face. That she is more than a tool, than a bug. Ghost is more than Ardmore can ever know.

Aaaaaaaaand that is all for this one! Hopefully I managed to get as much gwen personality as I can. Kinda tricky ngl, but either way, I kinda struggled how to end it but I hope you all enjoyed! Until next time! See ya!