#- what it gets right and wrong about surviving alone somewhere. space)

[sharkneto]

How do you think Five would feel about Andy Weir’s The Martian? I can’t decide if it would be triggering or if he’d get a kick out of it

I have to admit I have never read The Martian, so I can't speak much to how I think Five would react to it. From the little I know about it, the main guy has a rather upbeat attitude around his solitude and having to figure out survival on Mars, right? The snippets I've read have had great humor to them, at least. Based solely on that (and that I saw the movie once), I think it's a book Five would overall enjoy and find parts about figuring out survival relatable, and be able to read Exactly Once. Just a little too close to home for any repeat visits to that one.

Anyone who has actually read The Martian and has much more informed opinions on this feel free to chime on in.

[sweetiecutie]

🖤Fuck or Die part 2🖤

Part 1

Pairing: slasher! König x fem! Reader

Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, mdni, smut, non con so rape, violence, obsession, drugging, face-slapping and nose bleeding, choking, kidnapping, mention of murder. If you feel triggered by any of these warnings - just scroll past!

A/n: this took me way longer than I expected but yay, I finally wrote the second part!!! Also absolutely not me incorporating a quote from the movie bc I think it’s impossibly hot🤭

Reading part 1 is recommended for understanding the plot

Your life will never be the same. That damned evening changed you, everything around you, splitting your life into before and after.

Your memories of next few days after the murder were a sheer blur of events and conversations - numerous interrogations with police officers and detectives, psychologists trying to soothe you out of your stupor still, your mother crying her eyes out at the sight of you right after police arrived at the place of Paul’s death. And, of course, nasty journalists trailing behind you, watching your every move, invading your personal space unapologetically.

Of course, you were quite a catch - the first and only one who ever survived a meeting with König. Everyone wanted to know what he looked like - any particular details, scars or tattoos, a fucking skin colour - anything you could remember would be of huge use, giving at least any clues to a dead unmoving case. But there was very little you could help with - König took great care of covering every centimetre of his skin in black clothing, his voice changed, he smelled of nothing but earth and sickening metal of your boyfriend’s blood. Bastard was even smart enough to not cum inside nor anywhere actually, so that police couldn’t get his DNA samples.

A few months had passed since that horrific attack and there were still no traces of König.

It was midday when your parents had to leave to attend your grandma’s birthday - your mother was reluctant, not wanting to leave you all alone. You were never alone actually - a few police cars always patrolled right outside of your house, not allowing even postmen to get too close to your family’s property. It took a lot of reassuring and encouragement from your side to get your mother off your back, convincing her that you’ll be just fine by yourself and that you want your parents to have some fun. She then gave up with a deep sight, promising to be back in only a few hour’s matter.

You heaved a heavy sigh, closing and locking the front door after waving your parents goodbye, heading to the kitchen to grab yourself a drink. A pile of dirty dishes stacked in a sink caught your eye, the sight of its ugly mess on otherwise clean and tidy kitchen caused an itch somewhere deep in your brain. Without second thought you rolled up your sleeves, pouring dish soap onto the sponge and foaming it up.

As you were halfway through the dishes loud trilling of your landline phone calling startled you, causing you to jump on your spot. Your head whipped around, looking into direction from which the sound came. Wiping your wet hands on the kitchen towel you grabbed the phone, tucking it in between your ear and shoulder after accepting the incoming call.

- Hello? - you said, coming back to the sink, swiping foamy sponge over another plate, cleaning it of any grease and leftover bits of food.

- Hello! Um, can I speak to Paul? - your movements halted abruptly. You stood there silently for a long while, muscles stiff and unmoving, eyes staring blankly at some invisible point in the space before you.

- Excuse me, are you still here? Do I have the wrong number? - the man on the other end of the line said, his voice sounding concerned. It seemed to bring you out of your stupor as you drew in a long breath, exhaling noisily.

- Um, can I ask you how you got this number? - you said, already sensing something weird about this whole situation. But cops were all around your place, there was nothing to be worried about, right?

- Paul gave it to me himself. Said to call here if I needed to reach out to him, - man explained. That was strange but not unexplainable - Paul often hang out at your house, you wouldn’t be surprised if he knew your home phone number better than his own. - So am I calling right?

- Oh, yeah, sorry it’s just… Paul’s dead, - you said, teeth sinking into the inside of your cheek, sweet metallic taste coating your buds, but you couldn’t care less, nibbling deeper into small wound, feeling of slight pain grounding you successfully.

- Oh god, what happened? I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. But who am I speaking to then? - the man said, his voice now sounding genuine and apologetic. Everyone around Y/n suddenly sounded genuinely and apologetic. She heaved another sigh, resuming her scrubbing on the plates.

- He was murdered. And I’m his girlfriend, - you said in a calm tone, free of any emotion or feeling. Paul’s death was pretty much the only thing you talked about with others - police, detectives, police again, his parents and friends, your parents and friends. It seemed like such a sensitive topic turned into a rough callous way too quickly. - Well, I was his girlfriend, - Y/n mumbled after a short pause, faint clatter of porcelain audible in the background.

- Sorry about your boyfriend, - man on the line said. There was a brief moment before he added: - all those muscles didn’t help much, did they?

You froze. Silence settled in, interrupted only by occasional electric noise humming through the speaker. You heard your own pulse humping rapidly in your ears, your breathing fast and shallow, all muscles in your body tensing in alarm, straightening your back. Your eyes shoot up, looking out of the window above the sink. There were a few trees growing shallowly - barely an orchard - separating your house from your neighbours. No one was there.

- What’s that, sweet girl? You can’t see me? - a voice taunted, erupting herds of goosebumps running down your spine. - What a shame, I can see you clear as day.

- Neighbourhood is packed full with cops, you sick son of a bitch. If you only fucking dare coming anywhere close to my ho-

- Now-now, Y/n, - slasher interrupted you unapologetically, his voice hard and cold, causing thin hairs on your arms to rise. - Control your fucking language when you speak to me.

Your eyes dropped down onto the sink, fluffy dish soap foam was sparkling, playing with all the rainbow colors under the sun rays pouring in through the window. You clasped the phone in your non dominant hand, your dominant one reaching out and grabbing a kitchen knife from the drying rack, handle still wet and a bit slippery in your grasp.

- My, my, a dangerous thing that you’re holding. Be careful and don’t cut yourself, dearie, - König taunted, making your teeth clench. All blood drained out of your face, making you as pale as paper. Your eyes were fixated upon your window, peering into the orchard, desperately trying to spot any movement.

- What are you planning on doing? Everyone will hear if I scream. And cops will get your ass into prison, right where it belongs, - you spat out, pushing off the counter; your eyes ran all around the kitchen, looking for your cell phone with detective’s number saved, trying to keep the current call going so it’ll be possible to track it down.

- Oh will they? Then you better not scream, silly, - König snorted, making your blood boil. You were frightened still, terrified even; but the remorse of what he did to you, to Paul, was fuelling into your spite, making you a tad bit braver.

Failing to find your phone you entered the living room, rummaging through cushions and blankets piled on the couch, failing to find the stupid thing.

- Looks like you lost something. What’s up sweetheart? - you threw soft cushion back on the couch violently, huffing in annoyance upon not finding what you were looking for. You straightened and turned around to head to your bedroom, stoping in the middle of your tracks, freezing to the spot.

In the doorway leading to the hall stood König - dressed in all black, with heavy leather boots and his huge dagger strapped firmly to his thigh with a sheath, white scream mask staring right back at you. One large hand was pressing the phone to his ear, the other one was holding up your cellphone - the exact one you were looking for.

- You looking for this? - he asked, his own voice reverberating on the line because of your proximity.

You threw the phone to the side clutching onto the knife tightly. You dashed to the kitchen - there was a back door you could slip through - and outside was filled with neighbours and cops. Just pathetic six or so meters. Just a bit…

A scream tearing through your throat was muffled by a huge hand clamping against your mouth, the other one squeezing your wrist so tightly that for a fleeting moment you thought your bones were snapped, causing your grip on the knife to loosen, it falling down on the floor with loud clatter. König kicked the knife away across the kitchen, folding your arm back which caused your back to arch in pain - it felt as if he wanted to tear your limb from the rest of your body.

- Where do you think you’re going, Y/n? - König growled next to your ear, picking you up effortlessly and dragging your kicking form back to the living room.

Hauling you onto the floor König hooked one meaty thigh over your squirming body, putting bigger part on his weight down onto you, momentarily halting all of your struggle. One huge hand took ahold of both your wrists, pinning them to the floor above your head with frightening ease, his other hand was clasping your mouth still. He crouched down, scream mask was mere fifteen centimetres afar from your face as he seethed:

- Now you shut the fuck up and listen closely to what I have to say, and no one will get hurt, you get that? - he said, waiting until you gave him any sing of agreement. But you offered none. - You get that?! - König growled impatiently, bumping your head against the hardwood floor, causing black spots dance in the corners of your eyes for a long minute. You gave a weak nod, feeling hot tears running down your temples, getting lost among your hair.

- I’ve been thinking about you. A lot, - König sighed, hand that was on your face squished your cheeks together painfully, making your lips pucker out. - About this gorgeous mouth and pretty lips…

König crouched down, barely leaving a few centimetres between your faces.

- A this tight little cunt of yours. Remember how you clenched around me? How good my cock was filling you up?

- What do you want from me? - you weeped quietly, voice barely audible, broken by faint sobs and hiccups.

- Very little, dove. Just be an obedient girl and do as you’re told and no one will get hurt, - König tutted, taking in the sight of your crying face. Gosh, he was a sick fuck - his cock was already getting painfully hard, straining against his pants.

Letting go of your face König reached behind his back, withdrawing something from the rear pocket of his jeans. Just as you opened your mouth to cry out for help he shoved that thing inside of your cavity, slapping a hand over your lips so you won’t spit it out. The thing momentarily dissolved on your tongue, leaving a bitter aftertaste; you tried to struggle against killer’s strong hold, thrashing violently, but it led you nowhere.

Suddenly you felt hot - as if you had a really bad fever. Your mind clouding up rapidly, thoughts muddling, muscles becoming weaker by the second. You huffed out in frustration; moving your limbs a few centimetres seemed like impossible labour. World was spinning around you, blurring sharp and distinguishable features of König’s mask into a white haze.

König let go of your face once again, his now free hand slid down your body, cupping your sex through numerous layers of clothing separating you two. Sudden pleasure surged through your weakened body upon the contact; a loud moan that rolled off your tongue startled you - and suddenly you realised just how aroused you felt.

- Jeez, that dude didn’t lie about this shit, - König laughed out excitedly, watching your eyes widen in terror. You could barely move by now, not speaking of trying to fight off a man twice your size. His size. In a blur of all events, words and pain you never came back to just how fucking huge he was. You never mentioned that in any of your interrogations. How fucking stupid, huh?

Killer let go of your wrists cautiously, watching you closely - you rose your hands, resting your palms on his chest and pushing with all the might you had left, but it wasn’t enough to even push a cat off the chair - so that was the limit of your strength in this state?

König barked out another laugh - he was going to have so much fun with you! His hand never stopped massaging your crotch, noting a small wet patch forming on your shorts - you were soaked through your panties and now soaking your shorts? Gosh, he better buy a few dozens of these aids. Psycho’s eyes shot up to your face upon hearing a sob - tears ran down your eyes like small diamonds, turning your eyelids a pretty shade of red. König shifted forth so that his mask was almost touching your nose:

- Oh baby, I’ll be much gentler with you this time, I promise, - König cooed, pressing cold plastic of his mask against your flushed wet cheek, as if giving you a comforting peck.

Slasher shifted a bit, changing his position from sitting on your thighs to being in between them, yanking you towards him by your knees. He did quick job of taking your shorts and underwear off in few fluid moves, impatiently discarding them somewhere to the side. König felt his heavy cock twitch inside his jeans at the sight of your puffy cunny, all shiny from slick that practically oozed out of your fluttering hole. He swallowed hard, saliva was practically pooling in his mouth, having to restrain himself from tearing his mask off and devouring your cunt, exposing his face too early. You whined out something unintelligible, still trying to pry his fingers off one of your knees.

Your skin felt hot even through thick fabric of his gloves, so when König took one off and plunged two of his thick fingers inside of your tight hole he was surprised at how hot it was inside of you - one of the drug’s effects, he guessed. You couldn’t help but mewl at the pleasant feeling, your brain barely functioning, controlling yourself was beyond hard.

- That’s it, sweetness. Lemme hear all the pretty sounds you make, - König encouraged, plunging his fingers in and out of you, increasing the pace. Rough thumb coming to circle your slicked clit, causing your whole body to jolt softly. Scent of your pooling arousal was strong and prominent, seeping even through König’s mask, making him throb in his pants.

He couldn’t wait any longer. König was dreaming about your pussy being spread around his cock since that first night, he needed to be inside or else he’ll lose the remnants of his mind. Slasher slipped his fingers out of you, quickly undoing his pants, sliding them down as much as knife holster on his thigh would allow. Your breathing increased as you tried to close your legs, man’s bulky form making it impossible for you to do so.

- No, no please.. not again, - you begged, tears rushing down your temples, your voice meek and barely audible, so König just ignored it.

Pulling his girthy cock out König pumped it a few times with gloved hand, aligning pink swollen tip with your leaking entrance. It one smooth movement he bottomed out half of his impressive length, your body - flushed and pliant - taking him inside without any resistance. Low groan rumbled through his broad chest; König’s head fell backwards, hands gripping soft fat of your thighs, leaving pale marks of his fingertips on your skin.

You hated every second of it. Hated how his hips collided with yours with every thrust, how you felt him throb and twitch inside of you; hated how his hands wandered up and down your sides, rubbing your waist and palming your tits. And you hated how fucking good it felt. Hated how your body, despite all your attempts to resist, to fight off the effects of the drug, gave into the pleasure.

- That’s it baby. Just take what I give you, - König breathed out, his words slurred with pleasure. - See? See how good it can feel when you shut the fuck up and do what I tell you to? Just be a obedient little girl and feel good, I’ll take care of everything else yeah?

It felt as if a ball of bile got stuck in your throat; your face scrunched up in disgust as much as your jelly muscles allowed it:

- Fuck you, - you barely managed to choke out, your tongue struggling to form right sounds.

For a few moments you were sure König didn’t hear you, given the lack of any reaction nor acknowledgement of your words. But the next thing you knew was searing pain in your left cheek, the impact of man’s wide palm with your face jolted your head to the side, sudden change of its position made you felt dizzy. Now world was spinning around you even more so, you felt something warm trickling down your cheek - blood from your nose, you figured. Killer’s fingers roughly gripped your chin, yanking it back so that you were facing him once again.

- You wanna say that again bitch? Come on, I fucking dare you, - he spat out, movements of his hips halting completely, leaving his cock buried deep inside of your rippling warmth.

Your head shifting so harshly once again made you nauseous; you could barely see anything, dark purple circles were dancing all around, changing their shapes and giving way to greens and yellows to flood your vision.

- That’s what I fucking thought, - König gritted out. His hand let go of your chin, coming lower to wrap strong fingers around your neck. His hips started working with even more vigour, forcing his dick in and out of your drugged cunt on the pace that was almost inhuman.

Firm clasp of maniac’s hand around your neck made it nearly impossible to breathe. Both your hands wrapped around his mighty wrist, too weak to actually get him off you. Your vision started to darken rapidly, white noise trilling in your ears, barely allowing any other sounds to filter through.

- From the very moment I laid my eyes on you I fucking owned you. And I own you right now, and forever will. This is my fucking cunt, and I’ll use it whenever I want to. And I need you to fucking. learn. it. - König growled out, emphasising each of his last words with hard deep thrusts of his hips against yours, his cock making your stomach bulge, surely bruising your cervix.

- Oh but I’ll train you. Mould you into my personal cocksleeve, ready to be used whenever I feel like it, - his pace was quickening, thick cotton of his denim pants muffled filthy sounds of his mighty hips snapping against your ass. The grip of strong fingers never eased; König shifted part of his weight onto his hands which were wrapped around your neck, white mask hovering right in front of your face - milky white of it was a harsh contrast to blackness pooling in the corners of your eyes.

With that your conscience started to slip away. You felt your body jolt with every ferocious thrust of man’s hips, his cock buried deep inside of you, bruising your insides with its persistent bullying. Acute lack of oxygen burnt your lungs, and you prayed to all gods that König held your neck a tad bit too long - just enough for you to not wake up the next time. And just before you slipped into heavy delirium, your mushed up brain picked up König’s growl, penetrating through thick noise humming in your ears:

- You’re mine. Forever and ever.

Street was filled with all kinds of noise - sirens from police cars were going off triggering dogs from nearby houses, neighbours were crowding a bit afar, frowning and shaking their heads, everyone having their own theory of what happened. Loud cries of Y/n’s mother shook the air, putting everyone further on the edge. She is such a sweet girl, she’s never done anything bad! Oh god, why is this happening to her of all people?!

Some people were saying that the girl simply snapped, breaking under the pressure of events and finally fleeting the country without telling anyone to not give any clues about her whereabouts to the killer. Some said she just went out to unwind from being constantly watched by police and have some alone time - she’ll show up anytime soon. But everyone knew that it was one of murderer’s deeds - he did something to her. And everyone knew, deep down, that they’ll never see Y/n again - alive, at least.

A young lanky policemen, obviously green and not experienced in his job, was babbling out his report to the superior, all the other cops that were patrolling with him as well stood around silently, too scared to pipe in.

- Sir, I swear we were patrolling the area all this time, there was literally no one but the neighbours, but they were staying at their pro-

- Then you were not doing it well enough! - city commissioner barked out, his mighty vice silencing everyone around for a short moment. His face was red, fuming with rage; nostrils flaring with intensity of his heavy breathing, angry vein popped up on his temple, pulsating in tandem with his rapid heartbeat. His heavy gaze shifted between all the poor officers, their faces pale as chalk.

- You had one fucking job. ONE fucking job - to keep the girl in the sightline - and where is she now, huh? I’m asking you motherfuckers - where is Y/n?! - Mr. Lindner barked out, his heavy voice making everyone jolt. Younger officers stared down on their shoes blankly, not daring to meet eyes with their boss.

- You may consider yourselves lucky if you’ll still have your licences by the end of the week, - commissioner Lindner tsked, spitting onto the ground in remorse. Turning around, he headed to his police issued car, shouldering all those nosy ones who were brave enough to approach him in this state. Getting inside Mr. Lindner closed the door with a loud bang, starting the engine and pulling out of the driveway onto the main road.

Commissioner Lindner drove in full silence, blue eyes fixated on the road ahead; it was barely past midnight, but the darkness hung thick all around, being slit by two yellow rays of his car’s headlights. He gripped steering wheel tighter, one hand coming to comb back his grown out hair out of his eyes, a small smile played in the corners of his scarred lips.

Soon he’ll be home - maybe the effects of drugs will wear off by that time and he’ll watch Y/n wake up slowly, those pretty doe eyes of hers gazing up at him drowsily. He will cook her dinner - all of her favourites - and maybe even spoon feed her, if she’ll allow it. Then he’ll bathe her and tuck her in her new bed, locking up the door for the night and watching her sleep through the cameras.

Everything was going as smoothly as ever. No one has accidentally seen him dragging unconscious Y/n out of her house and hauling her into the backseat of his car. No signs of struggle or fight were found - kitchen sink was still half-filled with soapy water and dirty dishes, clean ones drying off on the countertop, a knife with all the fingerprints being drowned among other dirty utensils. Y/n’s parents approved that everything was on its original place - as if the girl just disappeared, dissolved into thin air.

No one suspected a thing. And, of course, no one suspected a respectable city commissioner Lindner with years upon years of experience, a veteran with impeccable reputation, a person no one could speak badly of.

This was the beginning of your new life, life in which everything revolved around König, causing you to cling onto him as if he was some kind of goddess. Life in which you no longer belonged to yourself, but to your abductor. Life in which you finally understood that you don’t need anyone or anything else because you had König, understood that König was your life itself <3

Slasher! König Masterlist

A/n: I apologise for giving König a half assed name, but I thought it’d be really cool for the plot😌

Once again, feedback is highly appreciated! I’m making this a series so feel free to send in your suggestions for more slasher! König content<3

[featherwingfae]

So the nonhuman theme of the day that I've been seeing on the Internet seems to be self doubt both due to internal and external influences.

My response to this theme is this. You are who you are. And no one can tell you who you are but you. (The rest of the post is pretty much just this^^ in way more detail than necessary. You have been warned lol. Buckle up this is gonna be a long one. Literally took all day to write 😅)

Most of us live in a society where we've been told since infancy who we are are and what we must be, and if we don't fit in the predesignated boxes then there must be something wrong with us and we just need to be forced into a box. But just think about the vastness of life for a second. From macro to micro there's just so much to everything it's breathtaking. Everything is layered. Why should one being's existence be any different. There is what is seen and then there is everything else. Some thing's don't need to be understood by others, because they are not there for others. They are simply there. Wether we understand them or not. And that in itself (I think) is quite lovely.

I am Fae. Not just because of ______. I am Fae because it is simply what I am. It's what feels right.

It's ok to just exist. It's ok to live without ever fitting into boxes or labels. And if you find a label or box that fits you, that's ok too. It's your existence. Do what makes you happy. I've also found that sometimes, finding that feeling that you fit somewhere, comes first and the reasons why come after. Be patient. I know it's maddening sometimes when you've got a million questions bumping about in your head, or even just one or two burning ones, but life is a journey. A mystery to uncover through experiences.

I could give you a whole laundry list of reasons why I can call myself Fae. But at the end of the day, the only reason I need is that it feels right. I don't need to act like the stereotypical Fae (from folklore, media etc), I don't need to have magical experiences, I don't need memories. Keep in mind that your nonhuman identity does not need to match anyone else's.

If you're a Fae who loves technology and finds the modern age fascinating. Guess what? There's nothing wrong with that. (I LOVE Minecraft 😁 Though that may or may not have to do with the fact that I get to fly around and build whatever I want from nothing. Yes I'm obsessed with creative mode 😅 I usually get bored in survival)

If you're a Therian who's never enjoyed being on all fours or who doesn't like gear. It doesn't make you any less Therian. Do what makes you happy 😊.

If you're some ancient entity and you use an ungodly (hehe) amount of emojis and/or abbreviations (ex. Lol, omg, etc) it doesn't make you any less ancient or awesome. Do what you enjoy. You are too old to not be having as much fun as you can experience. I'm also an ancient creature, you really think I want to spend my time not doing what makes the happy chemicals 😊✨👁️🪽😁.

If you're an Alien who's not obsessed with space stuff. That's ok. Human portrayals probably don't do it justice anyway, and there's so many other things to be interested in. Like have you seen mushrooms? Those funky little guys come in so many varieties it's absolutely delightful 😊🍄✨.

If you're a vampire who can't stand the sight of blood. Don't worry about it. I can almost guarantee you're not alone (plus there's a lot of different types of vampires. If you know you are/were definitely sanguine then you're still valid 😊).

If you're fictionkin and you're absolutely nothing like your fictionkin type/character. That's ok 😊. People often change with their experiences, it doesn't make you any less yourself.

That last one applies to most nonhumans identities in general honestly 😅.

If you're an angel that doesn't/didn't have big feathery wings. You are still an angel. The universe is filled with too much color and variety for me to believe that all ______ have the same or very similar designs. I've never heard of an angel with dragonfly or beetle wings. That doesn't mean they don't exist 🙃.

You can be a plant who loves salads, a placekin who hates going outside, an objectkin that doesn't use it/it's pronouns or is super expressive, a vampire who adores sunbathing or just sunlight in general, a carnivore that doesn't like meat, an avian that's afraid of flying or heights, a demon with a heart of gold, a deity with social anxiety and/or low self esteem, an herbivore that loves going hunting, a dragon who prefers minimalism, an aquatic creature who doesn't like water, a void that's constantly overthinking, you can match all the known stereotypes for your nonhuman identity or none at all. You can have phantom shifts constantly or never get any, you can have countless identities, you can have just one, you can remember your past life/lives in detail or remember nothing at all, you can believe in past lives and souls, or not, your identity can be psychological, physical, spiritual, etc.

It's s your identity. No one else's. Just because you choose to share yourself or your identity with someone else does not mean they own you or your identity. It is, was and always shall be, yours. (Btw please please please, be careful who you share your nonhuman identity with. Not everyone is going to "get it". And not everyone is going to accept it. Stay safe, mentally, physically, emotionally etc.)

They say names have power. They also say not all things are what they seem. Whatever your nonhuman identity looks like, only you can know what it truly is. Understand that I am not saying that the appearance of one's nonhuman identity should be dismissed altogether, especially when one is still questioning. I am saying, that we shouldn't rely solely upon appearances. If your nonhuman identity fits in the category of x as far as appearances go but x just doesn't feel like it fits, then chances are, you're not x, or there's more to it than just x. I've known I was Fae since right around 2019. However I doubted myself for a long time because as far as I knew Fae were "supposed to have insect wings" and on top of having big feathery wings, I have a lot of them. In fact many of my nonhuman features could be considered angelic. However I've never felt particularly comfortable identifying as an angel. It just never felt like the right fit. It took awhile but eventually after I'd already accepted that my "angelic features" didn't make me any less Fae. I remembered why I had those features to begin with, and it all just clicked into place.

It's ok to not have all the answers or even the correct answers right away. Life is experiences. From moment to moment you are who you are. Things may change, new truths may be revealed, that doesn't make you or your identity any less real. You are whoever you are right now. Wether that is someone/something from everything you have ever been or ever shall be or just one thing right now, unconnected to anything else. You are not fake for changing. You're not fake for not changing. Most have doubts about themselves about all sorts of things. To the point where it seems like doubt is just part of the human world experience (not saying it's only a human world experience, just that everyone here seems to doubt themselves about something or other) and perhaps working through our doubts is a lesson of this place, then again maybe not 🤷. In the end what you believe is up to you😊.

Now, I'm not expecting that this single post from a total stranger will erase all your doubts. Not at all. I didn't write it to erase doubt, but rather to give it a little bit of something to fight against. To plant just one more seed in the hearts and minds of others who might need it or whom it might help in any way. This post is far from the only one out there, fighting doubt in its many forms and faces. And what I've said has already been said in many times and ways. But it's my take and not everything will click with everyone. If this post helps even just one being, then it has served it's purpose. Each and every single one or plural of us is unique in our own ways. And I truly believe that's one of the most wonderful things about life as a whole.

If you've read this far, I apologize if I got a bit carried away and made this post longer than necessary but it means a great deal to me and things that matter to me are very difficult to "sum up" 😅. And if you follow me. I warn you now that most of my posts will probably be a bit lengthy if not extremely so.

And now my dear creatures, crawlers, beasts, beauties, hellions, heavenlies (no I don't care that that's not a word it is now lol), magicals, marvels, wonders, wanderers, wildlings, winged things, whimsies, and whatsits (and everything beyond and in between) I wish upon you a most wonderful day/night. May you always know/remember that your existence makes the world a more magical place. 🌍✨ (And in my opinion we could use all the magic we can get 😊)

👁️🪽✨🍄🍀🪻🌱🥀❄️🌟✨

Till next time.

[eriexplosion]

Echo just left and I already miss them :c onto watching Omega have an emotional breakdown in The Crossing!

The way Omega looks immediately miserable coming out of the Marauder. Honey :C

Hunter sensing the storm and trying to determine what direction its moving: Reasonable Hunter for some reason needing to touch dirt about it: WHAT ARE YOU EVEN DOING?

Did the dirt tell you what the storm's direction is?

All this time we thought Hunter's enhancement was his enhanced senses turns out that it's actually just talking to the dirt.

Hunter literally refuses to adjust for being a man down, Tech and Wrecker are trying to act like they ARE DOWN SOMEONE SURE but it's fine they'll deal, and Omega is just So Deep in her teenage depressions

"What's with you?" WRECKER WHAT DO YOU THINK? And just telling her she'll get used to not having Echo around. Wrecker IS the most emotionally intelligent of the batch, but it's a bit like being the tallest at the gnome convention isn't it?

This mineral is highly unstable and destructive. We need the child to drill for it.

Omega is pulling out the sass for this and I do love it, it's the first time she's let it out on anyone but Cid. She's TIRED, she MISSES ECHO, everyone is acting like it's NO BIG DEAL, let her be angry and pissy actually.

Hunter sensing someone stealing the Marauder like Lassie

Tell me Wrecker :) How exactly did you miss our ship being compromised :)

The way that Tech and Omega have the same external reaction to stress and it is turning the sass up 3000 times. Their processing may be different but good god are they similar in some ways.

Tech knowing Echo disabled their communication device because presumably he tried to call too, this is fine, I'm fine.

LITERALLY LION KING BEHAVIOR I STILL REMEMBER THE VAGUE MEME FOR THIS. THEY PUT DYNAMITE ON SIMBA.

"You must protect the ipsium case!" "WELL WHAT ABOUT PROTECTING ME :C"

I will protect you Wrecker don't worry

"Why don't you carry it?" "FINE!"

I'm sorry their dynamic is so funny when Tech gets extra spicy

And lest it be thought he's only being casual with Wrecker's safety his reaction to being saved instead of the ipsium is literally THE CASE!!!!!!

"So, now we are trapped. AND we have lost all of our ipsium. >:T"

Tech must be a NIGHTMARE to vacation with if even one thing goes off the itinerary

Nightmare Family Trip To Space Arizona

I'm just. Echo is gone for five minutes and their HOUSE gets stolen. THEIR WHOLE HOUSE. WITH THE FAMILY DOG INSIDE.

Tech looked at his dialogue options and literally it was like

[Persuasion] Assure Omega that while things are changing it will be alright and she will adapt *Rolls a nat 1* THIS SQUAD EXISTED BEFORE ECHO WAS A PART OF IT, AND IT WILL EXIST AFTER. WHAT IS YOUR ISSUE?

Everyone looking at Tech like WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?

Tech is so sincere when saying "She... said she wanted to be alone?" he genuinely does not process like this and the thought that she'd say she wanted to be alone if she didn't fully mean it DOES NOT OCCUR TO HIM.

Just slap those extremely volatile tubes into the satchel to roll around it's fine nothing to worry about.

THE WAY THAT TECH JUMPS AFTER HER IMMEDIATELY STILL GETS ME BUT ESPECIALLY THAT SHE DISAPPEARS INTO FOG WHICH HE JUMPS THROUGH WITHOUT HESITATION. He doesn't know what's down there and it doesn't matter, he is GOING AFTER HER.

(Plus parallels to the season finale again, and another example of just how much they can survive.)

Hunter sensing that something, somewhere is wrong. Because their day hasn't been hard enough already.

I love the small details like Tech having to shake water out of his goggles.

Just crawl down into this dark tunnel, carrying the extremely explosive material, throw yourself into the raging rapids, and get thrown into our cavern. Also if the vials touch each other too hard you die <3

Wrecker has the right assessment, this planet sucks

GODDDD THIS SCENE BETWEEN OMEGA AND TECH. Tech having to take a long moment to try to think about his replies, trying so hard to make sure that he's completely understood, because it's important that this in particular get through. Explaining how he feels the losses, intensely, but that he focuses on adapting to the change. I'm WEAK.

And god Omega's little "We're more than that. We're a family. Aren't we?" gets to me every time too but especially since I saw someone suggest the final two lines that sum everything up might be "We're more than that. We're a family." stated with utmost confidence, and like, I would absolutely shatter, I would BREAK INTO A MILLION PIECES, I would CRY like an INFANT.

Following up this wonderful soft moment with [WRECKER SCREAMING]

As we know, the fact that they hid Hunter's wet hair from us is a fucking crime.

Setting up that Tech is good at making precision shots in preparation for the finale. I see you writers, and I hate it.

This conversation with Cid is SO fucking funny like it's awful she's completely unhelpful, but also I feel like the Empire is definitely there, because this is the start of her entire vibe towards them Changing.

[antivan-dragon]

♡ line 10 / setting 1 / nsfw ♡

Here, my luuuuuv. I hope you like it! Thanks for the ask!

Line 10. I've seen the way you look at me when you think I don't notice.

Setting 1. Bunker

+18/MDNI

*Gif not mine

Warning: NSFW, unprotected sex, fingering, cunnilingus, private/lieutenant, F!Reader, explicit language (a bit)

It's been three days now you're stuck in that damn bunker. Bravo Team messed up with the wrong people and now you're hiding underground, waiting for Laswell who fixes things. You have all the necessities to survive but the boredom is killing all of you and, moreover, being h24 with your obsession won't help.

You've finished your eight minutes shower to save as much water as possible and you're about to close up in your cabin when Ghost prevents it by pushing the door gently.

“Private (y/n), a word.” He says getting in and closing the door behind him.

You don't complain even if you have to hold the shameful embarrassment to be in a very small space with your Lieutenant.

“What can I do for you, sir?”

He takes a moment to answer, scanning your whole body covered by the army green t-shirt and the military trousers, deciding how to proceed to find out what he needs.

“Sir?” Ghost moves his eyes somewhere else for a moment as if he came back to reality.

“I wanted to see how's going, it's a shitty situation for all of us.”

You nod. “It is, sir, but I don't complain. We're prepared for this kind of... shit.”

He slightly nods, moving a step ahead to get closer to you. Instinctively, you lower your glance but you don't move a muscle. You can assume he's testing you but you could be wrong as well.

“I've seen the way you look at me when you think I don't notice.” He says with a low voice.

You look up to meet his inquisitive eyes.

“Am I wrong?” He says analyzing your shocked expression.

Your lips spread apart to answer but it seems like an endless time before your voice goes out.

“No... Sir... You're not wrong.”

“Would you like me to stay for a while?” He asks then.

A burst of warmth crawls into your stomach as you blush. You're not able to hold his look, your eyes drop right in front of you, meeting his dog tags resting over his pecs.

He can see your disorientation and he doesn't want to put you in an uncomfortable position.

“My apologies, Private, I must have been mistaken. Please, forget what happened.”

He's about to leave when you call him back.

“Sir...”

You take off your t-shirt, his eyes fall over your naked breast, your dog tags dangling right in the center of your chest.

“Would you like to stay for a while?” You ask without hesitation.

He comes back to you, taking off his long-sleeves t-shirt and pulling up his mask enough to show just his mouth. You're prepared to be smashed against the wall behind you but the Lieutenant prefers to hold you onto him, bending over to kiss you with gentleness. Your hands slip around his neck and his nape while your buttocks fit perfectly into his hands.

It's not a violent kiss, but full of desire anyway. Ghost is scared to hurt you so he lets you be in charge to know what you want, but when he feels your hand stroking eagerly his hard cock through his cargo pants, he almost loses control.

His mouth falls on your neck, biting the soft skin as he tries to focus. “You better take it easy, Private.” He says against your neck.

“Why?” A tiny smirk appears on your face.

He suddenly stops to look over your teasing face.

“Wanna play rough, uh?”

Watching his lips saying those words without the fabric covering them is something that turns you on instantly. However, you don't have time to reply since Ghost already threw you on the camp bed next to you.

You make a squeak in surprise and he kneels over you to take off your boots and pants. “You better be quiet, hun. We're not alone down here.”

“Make me...” You whisper with a smile.

He throws away your pants, visibly shocked by your insolence.

“I’m still your Lieutenant.”

“Make me... Sir.” You repeat.

At those words, his cock throbs into his boxer pants as he removes your panties in a blink of an eye. He spreads your legs gently and he stares into your eyes while he bends to reach your cunt. His tongue slips easily through your labia since you're already wet.

You take a deep breath in the first contact but the more he eats you, sucking and liking your clit, the more your heavy breath turns into soft moans.

He stops. “Quiet, Private.”

When he resumes his torture between your legs, you bite your lower lip to hold your voice into your throat but it's damn hard. Ghost increases the pleasure by sinking his long fingers into you, reaching the right spot without problems.

You arch your back, moving your cunt against his mouth without control. A couple of loud moan escape right before taking the pillow and pushing your face onto it.

He stops just to free his cock, sinking into you easily while his thumb resumes the torture over your clit. His free hand grabs your hip hard as he can't hold back some hard thrust, feeling your cunt so good.

“Fuck...” He whispers.

You're a view at that moment, all spread for him, and your breast bounces under his pace. Your desperate expression meets his half-masked face and you outstretch a hand to grab his dog tags, forcing him to go down to you.

The making out is a mess since your bodies increase the speed of the fuck.

When you cum, your thighs wrap around his hips with strength as your fingernails sink into the flesh of his back. You shut your eyes, opening wide your mouth, and struggle to hold a loud moan.

“Hush...” He barely whispers against your mouth.

He can feel your cunt stiffening around his cock, it's so tight he almost cums into you.

“Fucking Chr...” Regretfully, he slips outside you to cum on your belly and your tits. He keeps stroking himself even when he releases the last few drops of seed over you.

You both need a long moment to catch your breath but he kindly helps you to clean up.

“Private...”

“Sir...”

You greet each other as if it's the first time you see each other. You chuckle and he gives you a tiny smile that you record in your mind for the rest of your life.

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

Do not Edit/Upload my content here or on other websites.

[moritashie]

I HAVE A FIC IDEA vol#4

Buckle up, 'cause this is a long one

• 2022, Tony Stark lives with his wife and lovely daughter in the cabin, slowly moving on from all that he has lost in the blip.

• In another universe, Peter survived instead of Tony, leaving him all alone, soon to be taken in by Pepper.

• In both universes, a 4-year-old Morgan is playing with something that certainly shouldn't have been played with, causing her to switch places with her alternative self.

• Where is her dad/big brother? How was the other Morgan different from herself? Who is the other person living with her and Mom, and why are they so familiar? Complete 👏 Panic 👏

• Now this would be a perfect occasion to explore how different the two would be, show their relationship with her parents, how that has affected her personality.

• Perhaps Alt!Morgan would have never left New York and stayed in preschool, making friends and becoming an outgoing child, while the other one seems to believe the world revolves around her, considering that she had both dad and mom all to herself all the time.

• Go wild with this scene, let Morgan talk her heart out, share memories she had with dad/big brother, what she has done, where she lives. You can't overexpose anything at this point, it makes sense that she talks about this stuff.

• She eventually convinces them that something is wrong, that it wasn't just a dream, etc. They would both proceed to take Morgan to the Sanctum Sanctorum. In both cases, Wong would figure out that somehow they have switched places with Morgan's other self.

• Maybe it would be the fact that Morgan knows her brother is Spider-Man, something that Peter tried to hide from such a young kid, or some things Morgan told Tony while talking about Peter, that he has definitely never mentioned to her.

• Wong would figure out a way to get Morgan back to their original universes, sending Morgan with Tony/Peter as their guides in order to switch back their children. Who would send a 4-year-old on her own for a multiversal trip? Come on now.

• Peter and Tony get somewhere. (In my head, it is an empty space between universes, just like the Soul Stone one, but your head, your concept) Their younger partners run towards their correct guide, and after a quick hug, they lock eyes. Finally getting a chance to see one another, get some closure, and just talk. It could get so, so, so hurt/comforty.

• I also imagine Peter and Tony breaking down with relief, realizing that every good memory Morgan has told them about is real. That they are happy and well, only somewhere else.

• After getting back to their universes, with the "right" Morgan with them, the two enter their workshops at a similar time, looking at new specs for the quantum time machine."

[ed-recovery-affirmations]

Any tips on how to overcome a scarcity mindset when it’s your actual situation?? Like I am living with my parents who heavily control my diet, so when I’m alone or in a safe place I end up binging “unhealthy” things, which doesn’t feel great. I’ve tried telling myself that I can always have more later if I want, but the fact is that I can’t because of my situation. And that’s kind of the only method or mantra (what really helps me is repeating little supportive phrases to myself) that I’ve seen in my research.

This is a tough one, anon. I think you're going to have to do some damage control now, and start making plans for treatment once you are able to leave this environment. So instead of telling yourself you can have more later if you want, tell yourself "It is wrong that this is happening to me. One day in the future I will begin to heal from this." Just focus as much as you can on your hope and not on your distress.

Do you have a locker at school or any place your family cannot access? A job that provides you a cubby/locker to store your things? If so, it could be a good idea to stash sealed nonperishables (so that you don't grow mold or attract mice.) Some ideas could be: sleeves of crackers and those single-serve pouches of peanut butter, granola bars, packets of nuts or dried fruit, potato chips. Try to stash nutritious things but it's okay to keep treats too, so you don't create a guilt mindset around these foods. Then you can tell yourself "I'm not going to starve. I do have enough. I do have some control." (A lot of unhealthy relationships with food are about control, and it sounds like you have a scary lack of control in your own life right now.) If you could even get a lockbox to hide somewhere in your room (or in your car, if you have one) you could stash these nonperishables there, and keep the key on your person at all times. Ooh, and if you're afraid you're not getting enough nutrients, invest in a multivitamin too. Just remember to come up with a ready-made excuse for what's in the lockbox in case your family finds it. Maybe stash food in multiple places, as long as it's nonperishables. Oh, and anon, I feel for you having to tell you this, but please make a note to bring this up in treatment if you seek therapy once you're free. Lots of people who've lived in scarcity develop extreme trauma and food hoarding behaviors, to the point of eating foods that are unsafe or keeping their house in unsanitary conditions. Right now, you may need to hoard and that's the honest reality. But do keep your eyes on a future where healing is accessible, not just survival.

Remember, it's okay to eat junk food. I understand it's not ideal to live on it, but if it's all you can access, it's better than starving and you need to remind yourself that so you don't feel guilt. But "junk foods" are the kinds that are easiest to binge, especially if you have a scarcity mindset because they have the sugars, salts, and fats that you'd be desperately seeking if you were starving in the wilderness. So it's a bit of an instinctive reaction to want to go ham on these things if you live in fear of going without, so try to tell yourself not to feel guilty about craving them. No matter what you're eating, make sure you take a breath every few bites. Take a moment to remind yourself that you are alone, in your space, you are totally safe, that you are allowed to not only eat freely but to enjoy your food. Be patient with yourself if this message doesn't sink in right away, as you are living in a traumatic situation where that is not always the case. But teaching yourself strategies to prevent or interrupt the binge process is always helpful. Stay patient and keep working on it.

Do you have friends who are aware of what you're going through? Anyone who can help you to get a little bit of extra food here and there, or whose house you can visit to get a real meal? If you must live on snacks, they will keep you from starvation, but a real meal here and there will do you wonders, as will the knowledge that you have a safe space and people to validate that what is happening to you is wrong.

Never stop working on your exit plan and envisioning your future of healing. I hope you get through okay.

[longeyelashedtragedy]

For the ask game: 3, 19, 29, 30?

3. i am most proud of "visited upon the sons." i think the quality of all my writing was questionable this year, but this fic did exactly what i wanted it to do, and it was so fun to write, once i got in the headspace, that i still miss it. it was also fun getting to write a whole "making of" post about it.

wait guys i hit post too soon LOL watch this space

19. let's see, i already said pepling and frank+daddy A...i would like to write the gross jamie x franko x christine threesome, i won't lie! i'd also love to explore more of Frank Sr's motivations for how he feels about harry 👀

29. i can't choose favorites of anything! i do love:

-But here he is kissing Rob in Rob’s car with the steering wheel on the wrong side and it doesn’t feel anything but right.  from "the prerogative to have a little fun"

-You will remember Granit Xhaka’s last night in this office, on this desk, glowing like something more than human, as much as he’d insist he was no more than a man.  Glowing like an angel—the kinds from the Bible, the ones so beautiful and terrible, the kinds whom God trusts to convey His messages.

You’d always thought of Granit as your beautiful beast, but in the end you were wrong.  You met him as a beast.  He left you as an angel.

Only a supernatural force could move on from this, and you, Mikel Arteta, with the name everyone but Granit mispronounces, are exceptional, but you are human too.  You had an angel in your office, and now there’s a darkness around the edges of the room that the overhead lights can’t dream of illuminating. from "how to stay there"

and of course--everyone knows i'll say this!!--

-

And now he’s alone.  Or is he? 

There’s a ghost somewhere in the ripped pieces on the floor, and there’s a ghost in bed with Mason.

And the ghost has a name—he’s never known before, and he’s wondered for decades now. It has the same name as the one on the Wall of Fame at Stamford Bridge.  It has the same name as the one there, ripped and thrown to the bedroom floor.  It has the same name as Dad, as it happens.  And it’s here, thinking his thoughts.  Holding his Mason tight like it loves him. from "visited upon the sons"

but also from there i like--well i like the whole fic but i also enjoy--

Mason saying “I love you, daddy,” like the wind’s been knocked out of him.

He thinks of the West Ham jersey crumpled in the bedroom.  God, why?  Why has he kept it?  Why does he talk about the bad times out in public, so openly it seems to go against some kind of survival instinct? 

Dad’s never mentioned it.  Never said son we should talk about all that. Never even said why the fuck do you bring that old shit up?  Crying for some cake again Frankie, ain't you?  Never, nothing, like he’d never told the stories, like he’d opened his mouth and no sound had come out.

He gropes behind him with the hand that’s not down the back of Mason’s joggers, finds the neck of the rosé bottle.  There’s still some left. He drinks right out of the bottle. 

“Don’t get drunk, daddy,” Mason giggles.  “You’re my manager.”

Mason, Mason, Mason.  Don’t get drunk, daddy.  You’re his manager.  Even though Jamie got drunk, Jamie and Dad and Uncle Harry and—Jamie and—

He presses his forehead to Mason’s and then kisses him and tastes his moans, sweet like wine against his lips.

30. the biggest surprise while writing actually came from writing "visited upon the sons!" i don't really follow many gender or sexuality expectations but also sort of don't advertise this in the real world--i just live my life--and i came away from writing this realizing how much i truly hate and not just hate--resent!--heteronormative societal expectations being put on me. in most of 2023 i was putting in the hard work trying to feel comfortable around "normal" people and a lot of this involved me being a part of conversations with very very typical "cishet" opinions like 'can men and women truly be FRIENDS' and 'i hate waxing and it's expensive but i gotta do it for my boyfriend!' all of which left me very "bitch, you live like this?" i realized when writing frank's memories that the extent to which he is so tired of Lads always bringing up The Ladies is very much a reflection of something i felt strongly about that i didn't even realize. and genuinely, i think realizing this helped me feel so much more comfortable in my own skin? so thank you, Fucked Up Franko <3 viva la lampardverse!

[kariachi]

Wake up, write fic about Argit’s initial experiences outside the Null Void, somehow end up hitting on the progression of the boys’ criminal careers, heave a sigh, post.

~~

Argit was the only reason they’d survived the Null Void. Say what you would about children being born and raised in that death trap, but it made for real experts. No change in topography or ecology threw him. He could tell you exactly how much water or food you should try to grab when you had the chance, knew the odds you’d come across more at any given time. Had a feel for all the little signs a newcomer would miss that a piece of land was getting ready to do something weird. Knew the best places to hide, how to tell a stranger likely to do you harm from one who wouldn’t. By necessity he had mastered telling good water from bad, hunting any small critter he could, determining what plants were worth foraging and what weren’t. The dimension and his family’s neglect had made for harsh, but very effective, teachers, and if by some tragedy they had been forced to stay forever? They’d have been as fine as it was possible to be.

But they didn’t, thank fuck. They’d gotten out, together, and it had been quite literally a whole new world. One Argit had been in no way adapted for.

He was always thankful for Kevin, even at their lowest points he was his first and greatest friend, but falling into life outside the Null Void had kicked that up into high gear. You would never get him to admit how long it took him to properly enter the first city they found. (Four days. Kevin would affectionately tease him about it for the rest of his life.) Everything had been enclosed, there had been so many people in such a small area, every alarm bell in his mind had screamed that it wasn’t safe, it was a trap, they were in danger. But Kevin had known better. Or at least, he’d known what parts were threats and what weren’t. He was a master at surviving in big cities, as he had assured him at every turn, and the time in the Void had given him a feel for interacting with a range of species. They’d thrown together a hidey-hole on the outskirts and he would leave Argit there, venturing into the city and coming back with information and food.

Each time he returned safe and each time he was able to talk Argit into walking a little further in. Slowly he’d convinced him that they weren’t going to immediately be ambushed, that you could tell safe areas from more dangerous ones. There was rhyme and reason in how these places were arranged and traversed, tips and tricks you could use to find your way around, easier marks than Argit had ever gotten the chance to work with before, who were more easily evaded if a theft went wrong and far less likely to kill you or leave you to die.

It was far from an easy time, but for someone who had grown up in the Null Void it still eventually began to feel like the closest thing to a paradise. Stores existed, for fuck’s sake.

Those had been a shocker on level with the first park Kevin had dragged him to. Argit had spent an unknown amount of time just wandering that little park, marveling at the amount of plants all in one place, the bright colors and sweet smell of hordes of flowers, grass soft beneath his feet, trees he’d bolted up as soon as Kevin’d confirmed they were safe. Right up until Kevin had dragged him away at speed as an officer approached. That would go on to be a theme, apparently cops got worse than throwing a load of people into a near-unlivable wasteland and refusing small children escape without proper paperwork no matter what they were bribed with, on the outside they were perfectly willing to accost you for simply existing in the space. Kevin had had many stories of getting in trouble functionally for being dirty and alone somewhere, tales that would prove to ring true as time went on.

Even in the stores, people would watch and wait for any reason to call the authorities on a pair of scruffy kids wandering around alone. Not that Argit even noticed in the first four Kevin showed him. He was too busy being enthralled by the sheer amount of stuff. Tall shelves and clear, shiny cases of things he had never even imagined in his life. Whole sections larger than any den he’d ever hidden in dedicated just to clean new clothes, tech you didn’t have to build or repair yourself. Rows and rows of books and soaps and little items that served no purpose but to make wherever you were staying look a little nicer, no purpose but to amuse and delight with their presence. There were aisles of toys the likes of which brought him pain and anger both when compared to the memories of his and his siblings’ time playing with rocks and sticks at best, while out here all of this existed. Long glass counters shielding delicate chains, engraved metal rings, and shining cut stones that found something that had lain dormant in his gut for years and yanked it into life.

A whole entire building full of food. He’d been part of a family of twenty, never seen more than enough to feed ten- and that was a rare occurrence- and there he had walked in and seen enough to feed them all for, for years surely. Kevin’d had to find him a quiet corner to sit down and wrap his mind around it all. Neither of them had had a clue what any of it was, but after the Null Void even Kevin’d felt like he was dreaming.

The stores had been the real introduction to this new reality, as they’d walked through and Kevin had explained all the things Argit hadn’t known or understood. They were his introduction to money, something that would be a main source of stress for years to come. It wasn’t really a concept in the Null Void- money required having things to buy and to sell and nobody had anything in the Null Void except law enforcement. But outside, everything from food to reliable shelter cost money. A lot of money. And soon it had become clear that the only people willing to hire on a pair of dirty, unfed, functionally illiterate, damn near completely uneducated kids? Were the same sort of people they were used to dealing with.

Lucky that theft was easier and lower stakes now, because that was their best option, whether doing it for themselves or for a cut of the profits. Not their only option, as they were at times painfully reminded, but the lowest risk. The lowest profit. A foot in the door.  A way to keep fed while they made connections, made deals, made themselves sharp. Stealing led into fencing led into ‘we can get you that’. Learn to speak the language so you can make a better deal, learn to write it so you can forge convincing documents. Figure out the cops’ tells, and what sort of people to look for when you need a safe-ish place for the night. Teach yourself to spot a mark at fifty paces in bright light. See far too much of the inside of the slave trade as you rescue your partner over and over.

Surprise your ma with just how much you’ve learned when she tries to join that ‘fun’.

Adaptability, that had always been the name of the game. Whether you were adjusting for a sudden change in gravity or a deal gone sour, hunting for your food or killing for freedom. It never really changed, not at the basest level, only got easier as you found better territories, learned new techniques, made a name for yourself. Null Void, Chubula Station, Khoros, it didn’t matter where you were, the goal was always the same. You just had to survive, by any means necessary.

And no matter what strange, wonderful, horrible, new things came up, Argit was a fucking survivor.

[sapphire11]

find the word challenge

rules: share snippets of your work containing each of the words the previous poster selected for you.

tagged by: @baby-droll OMG thank you so much for thinking of me!!

my words were glance, wait, full, twist, and slip

All under the cut because I always share too much ...

glance - What is time but the relentless passage to the inevitable - Tarlos, Carlos whump

He nods numbly, already not sure how he’s going to survive leaving Carlos in just … he glances at the watch on his wrist, it’s already six o’clock. He has no idea where the day went. He sits there trying not to obsess about the time that’s ticking down until he has to leave Carlos again or the thought of something terrible happening the second he steps out of this room. Twenty minutes have passed when he hears several more footsteps at the doorway. Picking his head up from where he had rested his forehead on Carlos arm he finds Andrea and Gabriel entering the room. Their steps are quiet, tentative, like they might break the seal that’s keeping the peace if they walk too heavy or move the wrong way.

wait - Into your darkness, I'll shine a light - Tarlos hurt/comfort

“Wait,” he calls, quickly approaching Carlos’ back as he has turned towards the front door. “Carlos?” he asks cautiously, hand reaching out into the void of space between them. Carlos turns slowly and TK’s heart breaks at the sheen of tears he can see in Carlos’ eyes. 

“I can’t,” Carlos chokes out, looking down at their feet, shifting himself from one foot to the other as TK lets his hand drop slowly from the space between them. Carlos shakes his head again as he seems to come to some kind of decision and steps closer to him. TK’s heart soars as Carlos leans in closer, but then it drops to his feet, like he’s been shoved off a cliff, when with a quick press of his lips to TK’s forehead, Carlos turns and leaves him standing in their entryway. Alone and afraid.

full - Just want to put the past behind me - BTHB TK whump

Conversation erupts amongst the group then, lighter topics being discussed all around. TK happily allows himself to get pulled into a conversation with Nancy and Paul about wedding planning details. They’ve finally settled on a date and Carlos has been in full swing making sure everything is being planned to perfection. TK loves him for it. He also loves their friends who have decidedly stepped in and offered their help with anything.

twist - I was lost in the feelings of the memories - Tarlos amnesia AU (also I think this is the most NSFW bit I've ever written and I somehow forgot that I wrote it, but now I want to write more_

It’s the endearment that does it for Carlos. Hearing TK call him baby has always done it for him, “Feel better inside you,” he manages around another groan as TK tightens his grip a little and twists just the way Carlos likes it.

“We’ve got time.” TK repeats his words from earlier and Carlos barely hears them as TK removes his hand only to kneel in between Carlos’ knees in front of the couch. 

“TK you don’t…” Carlos gasps as wet heat surrounds him and all coherent thought stops while he gets lost in the feelings. It’s as much the same as it is different from their first time together. The memories flash across Carlos’ mind until he’s lost in the mix of them. Somewhere in the back of his mind he wonders if that’s what it feels like for TK right now as he does the thing with his tongue that drives Carlos crazy every time since that first time.

TK nearly confirms it himself when he sits back on his heels, looking up with pupils blown wide and cheeks flushed with desire, whispering “Might as well take us back to the start.” Before diving back in like he hasn’t just tipped Carlos’ whole world on its head.

slip - Through each other's eyes - Tarlos soulmate AU

But just as quickly as TK allowed Carlos to see all his emotions he’s shutting it down again, shutting Carlos out. 

“I can’t … I can’t do this right now” TK mutters and he sounds scared and small and everything Carlos never wanted to make him feel. That knowledge freezes Carlos and gives TK enough time to slip out of his grip and out of his house, the door shutting loudly behind him. Leaving Carlos sitting in the quiet wondering how the hell everything went so wrong so fast, praying that TK won’t just slip right out of his life too. 

Tagging @chaotictarlos @ravens-words @noxsoulmate @detective-giggles and @rangergurlgleek1211 of course this is a no pressure tag and all are welcome to join in the fun!!

your words are: stare, flinch, live, little, and heart.

This was so much fun, such a creative tag game 💛

[2percentsugar]

am also a library worker and would like to cosign this with the addition that: even when homeless patrons cause a problem, so what? don't you have moments in your day where you pace, scream, or cry? don't you have a private place in which to do it?

for many of my library's homeless patrons, the library is their private place. it is either unsafe or uncomfortable to express the worst of their emotions outside, so they reserve a study room or go to the bathroom, because those are places they can be alone for free. wouldn't you have some pretty ugly emotions if you didn't have a home to go back to?

it is true that the 1% of homeless patrons who cause a problem are usually much more cooperative with staff than housed ppl doing the same. but even if they weren't. even if that number was 10% or higher. even if you think that someone sleeping in the library is reprehensible. they have to go somewhere, and if the library is not somewhere, then what's the fucking point?

my coworkers in public safety see, at least, an overdose a day. it's pretty common toward the beginning and end of the day, and certain bathrooms they patrol more often than others for this reason. but, crucially, most of those ODs survive. they're found right away and get the medical help they need. if the library -- which to be clear, is the last public space they can even be -- didn't allow them in, they would die.

don't get me wrong. it's fucking absurd that library workers are the last line of defense here, when social workers or shelters should be adequately funded to provide better help than we can. but the solution to that is not taking away the last line of defense for an entire group of people. even if some of them do disruptive things.

if you dislike seeing homeless people sleeping in the library, you should join the local fight for housing justice. i can promise you there is already organizing in your city, and that it'll do a hell of a lot more good than yelling at library workers about the smelly guy muttering to himself.

cos, listen. even if we kick him out, he still exists. he's still your neighbor, your community member, and a human fucking being. and where else is he going to go, except the library?

A question I get asked a lot while working at a public library is "how do you deal with homeless people?"

And the answer is, we don't.

The unhoused people who come here seeking refuge 99% of the time understand that they will be kicked out if they misbehave.

The people you have to watch out for are Jessica, who only came because the kid she didn't want had to visit for a homework assignment and she just *needs* to yell at her child for asking to borrow two books or stay an extra five minutes, or Michael, who came in to look at porn on our computers for whatever fucking reason, or Karen who just wanted to come by to throw a fit that the particular book she wanted was checked out and harrass our staff about our collection being too limited.

99% of the time, the people we need to ban are middle to upper-middle class white people while the homeless and mentally ill/disabled people mind their own damn business and are honestly some of the best patrons we have.

[faithfromanewperspective]

designing home

what is home to me?? I don’t answer this with a place, but it’s who I feel like I belong with isn’t it?? It’s been a long time of not feeling that. I do admit it. I also admit I’m learning more and more, I am so so capable of creating that. maybe one day I’ll be a plant with roots in the ground. maybe one day I’ll have a place I’m able to rest. I know I can’t now. not yet. I know I’ve got nothing to rest in. nothing but what is supernatural and insubstantial and strung together like hope. hope that’s turning from an abstract concept I would rattle off like a sunday school answer to something I can kind of make out the outlines of. I hate that it’s taken me half a subject into a masters degree to realise this.

so maybe now that we’re somewhere in the in between—it’s ironic isn’t it? that I’ve dedicated so much of my life, most of the last decade as soon as I’ve been a conscious human who can think independent thoughts, into designing spaces and ways to decorate them that work for people but I can’t for myself. how can I meet my own needs when my needs are simply that, to quote a movie and a historical figure an old love introduced me to, I can ‘put a little bit of it [the mess in the world all around] back together’? so overwhelmed by the lack of autonomy and connection I can feel all around me. I just want to feel progress. send out to the universe me saying it’ll get better, I’m working at it, I’m making it better, and have that serotonin and confidence from realising, I really can make this better. seeing my own progress. because really what I’m looking for is I know I can’t fix all the problems in the world. I want a home I can feel satisfied with.

and we’re back to the question, as we’re in between the starting mess of a canvas in trying to recycle and the ideal, and always will be (my old pastor used to talk about the messy in-between kingdom after death is defeated by the death of a god but before death has stepped down rule so we still feel its hold. I’ve always felt like I’m living in that). what do I do?? I long to connect, it regulates me, I moved here because my connection needs were being unmet and I needed a physical space I could invite people in to. that’s probably my number one priority. to have my own space that invites connection. and it helps, to be seen, witnessed by someone I can relate to, remind me I’m not alone.

if home is about connection, it’s somewhere that facilitates me connecting to all sorts of things. to nature, to the built environment around me, somewhere that when I mask so long I forget who I am I can come back to it. to both the place and its people who I let in and remember who I am. they are like visual prompts. their presence a trigger for my nervous system but a good one, a calming one, a regulating one. maybe that’s why, be it my birds or whoever lives under whatever roof I’m in, when they’re distressed, it’s like I’ve lost that. I’ve lost my tether to this planet; everything is going wrong. if I had a role in that, I must be the worst person ever to cause such great destruction. how can I survive, if I can’t do this one thing? feed the system, steward it, the system I need to survive? that feeds and grounds me?

that’s why I wake with the sun. why laundry day and getting it all done is so important to me. vacuuming and the dishes. why I must make a castle for my birds that meets their needs. why I long to create homes for me and others out there who have similar needs where we can solace. that’s why I’ve found it so important for me to do the little things I can so that I can feel little by little, the chaos is receding, build my confidence that I might mess up yes but I’m learning to do things right, I can do that too. that this ambition burning in my soul to just build structures of love, it’s not useless. I need to triage my energy to find the best ways for me to do that. I want people to be able to come to me and relax. I know their needs (that part I have to thank my teenage self for honing in that intuition that I now can’t turn off) and I see them and I’ve seen it before and I can tell them, this problem you feel weighing on you is solvable, watch. until they too feel this confidence I’m trying to build in myself.

but what of me? are my problems solveable?

first, being able to let my guard down and let people in. no fear of messing up, forgetting, showing something that wasn’t meant to exist let alone be shown, because whatever exists exists because we mean it. whatever we don’t want to exist—well we work to make our ambitions line up with reality. I still clean my parents’ house, because then they might feel this for themselves. then maybe the years of shame, maybe I can relax as they do. or at least clean without the pressure of having someone over. having a deadline. I can relax, we all can, knowing there is nothing here to hide. nothing to do that we can’t, because we can do it all we can fit it all into our schedule and routine.

I don’t even say no to myself in order to do a more urgent task anymore. I’m most productive when I have my peace. that’s my main goal and takeaway of this year. what can you do to facilitate this?? let people in. share your secrets that you thought you’d implied for so long didn’t exist that none of your school friends asked. learn to share your story. create spaces, havens, with the people you trust who you let in. share who you really are. who I really am. I’m not sure that most people around me know it. how much the way I see the world shapes who I am, my identity, and it’s not just neurodivergence or my beliefs but a complex interaction between them and the way my education, my empathy, has changed me, molded me from shapeless nothing into someone with a voice and purpose. I don’t know who around me has met her, or knows that she exists. but she earns my wage and she makes community and she designs places. I know that.

it’s somewhere that the hurdles are manageable and fit within a system of this-is-my-life. a rhythm. I’m a musician. I don’t mean no hurdles, because I feel pretentious and I don’t feel comradeship that I perceive as connection if so. I mean that I don’t run the race without being fed that day. I mean I get love in and love is what comes out and motivates me as I do hard things. I mean it’s pumping blood through my veins. Giving me purpose. I mean that I am literally so disabled when I don’t have my need of being seen and seeing others and the magic it brings and the unlikely optimism it brings, connection based on equality, that’s all I want in the world, met. I can build cities with my bare hands when these things are flowing in. so they’re of utmost importance, that I pull all these things together and have them feed me and my home is what facilitates this or else I’ll starve. And I fully think after feeling discouraged for so long masking around everyone I know because I can’t speak their language, not anymore, that I can get there.

maybe it’s the kid from western sydney who has the best friends in the world from childhood talking but I am her and I do so well to remember that, I forgot for so long. It’s like I’ve been asleep, walking in a dreamlike daze being who they told me I was because it hurt to think of what I lost so I just forgot I ever had it before. But I never lost it.

and this is the wind under my wings as I say I can do it, I can walk with everyone I know out of the shutoff from connection burnout all my adult family members and the only friends I relate to are in. We all experience it different ways. And I wish life wasn’t such hard work but it’s the kind of work that is rewarding to do and if this is my life, I can manage it. As long as part of wherever I experience as home is able to give me the special mix of connection nutrients I need. because it’s not something anyone feeds you naturally.

so in the end, it doesn’t really matter what it looks like or how it functions as long as it does and the hurdles it brings aren’t the kind that distract me from the hurdles, the relational ones, that I’ll always have to face in my life. what matters, what supports me, is am I able to let love and connection in in a way that doesn’t hurt me by making me be something I’m not? and can I have a secure diet of that, one that’s healthier and healthier every day until the fear that it won’t happen is a distant memory that can no longer draw blood?

and I wonder if you, too, want that. After all, it’s why I do what I do isn’t it?? In perceiving you, seeing to the heart and validating that I put a little piece of the world back together. I think that’s the only way we exist without hurting each other—that even our most capital-intensive needs are simply a magic expression of symbiosis, in which we are part of an ecosystem that receives joy and purpose and these feelings I’ve discussed in return for giving you what you need to regulate the distress, ease the pain, bring the ecosystem which you are a part of into a little more harmony, a little deeper connection that soothes our aching souls in a way that until you experience it, you never know how much it pumps sunlight into your veins (like actual symbiosis of photosynthesis) in a way that makes any work you do to maintain this relationship so, so satisfying and as much a part of the joy as the result itself.

[atangledfate]

Sonic stood rather stoic watching the wisps until Surge made her statement. His eyes fell on her with a sternness as he didn't budge from his position. Slowly though he turned toward Surge and while there was no rage in his eyes he was clearly not thrilled with this topic. One he'd had with Shadow so many times, and now it seemed with Surge to. She just didn't understand why he didn't pull the trigger, and why he couldn't bring himself to cross that line. it was a complicated topic and one he wasn't comfortable with talking about.

yet she didn't give him much choice did she?

" Surge i know deep down you think this is some easy solution. But that's how you know it's the wrong one. This is a slippery slope... and one that can easy cascade into a whole lot of bad mojo for everyone around you... I'm telling you right now--- We don't get to play executioner... let alone judge who is and isn't worthy of life... "

He gave her a stern gaze as he tensed a bit as if ready to throw hands at a moments notice.

" I know you think this is so ultimate solution... that this will just fix everything... But it won't. It'll just make everyone see you as a killer, a murderer... and i don't think you are that. Don't get me wrong, i want to see Mimic get what is coming to him. But let the legal system run its course... let a judge decide his fate... not you, not me... and not whisper or anyone else... "

He slowly turned to face her fully with his arms at his sides in a clear position to fight if he had to. He didn't want to, he hated to think they'd throw hands over this bastard. But he couldn't do it, he couldn't stand by and watch someone die like that. Especially because he knew somewhere deep down it would ruin her, and worse the people wouldn't see her as anything less then a monster.

He wanted to believe she could be so much better! but she was still stuck on this wasn't she...

" I don't wanna fight you over this surge... Chaos i hate the thought of us fighting over him... but i can't let you kill him. No more then i could kill you despite all the people you hurt... You want to be a Hero, then prove it... by being better then this..."

The other Wisps seemed to know that feeling as if they could feel it across the space between. They gathered up looking a little scared, as the energy of the mother wisp seemed to set then all on edge. It took blue to calm them but glanced back at there new friend--- he had no idea what set off the mother wisp, but had a feeling it was Mimic--- and that was bad news for everyone.

" We gotta get over there and calm her down before something bad happens... "

================================================

Mimic seemed to grow unsettled by the quaking as he gripped onto the platform with his suction cups to hold himself in place. He grit his teeth as his eyes shot from left to right trying to see what was happening and yet his eyes went to Rowan who Berated him and he just laughed at him with a sadistic grin on his face. Was this guy serious? when it came to survival anything goes! the gloves were off and he'd do what ever he had to do!

" ... Don't be a fool, i don't want you dead yet--- first i'll disable you and use you as leverage against your wisp. Then he'll let me out like a good like mindless minion. Or you could just let me go... and we'll call it a---"

He nearly fell over as a great rumble rocked the platform and the massive Wisp rose up over them. Mimic gripped onto the platform glad for his suction cups that kept him from falling. However to him he saw an advantage! Leverage, finally he could get out of here once and for all! He brandished the capsule at the Wisp mother and flicked the switch on the side! Torturing the wisp inside and causing it screeching to fill the room! He held it there a long moment just long enough to get the Wisp Mother's attention!

" ah ah ah! now now mother dearest--- You wouldn't want me to hurt them more would you? now here is what is going to happen! You open a way out of this place, and i walk out! Then i'll let them go, or we can see what happens if i switch this on and leave it! "

For Emphasis he flicked the switch back on! the wisp instead screeching in pain once more as it was pummeled with magnetic force within the capsule! he wasn't sure if it would kill them, but he had no doubt this about the same as electrocution for them.

" Now--- both of you do as i say or else! we'll see if this thing can kill them or not! "

No matter how you swung it, he really was the worst. His willingness to kill a Wisp to get what he wanted. A Species who was so willing to abandon there home to help them. This only spoke to his vile nature, and his blackened heart!

Deep Down, Mimic was a Demon...and yet his fear of that giant Wisp was real... this was his last ditch effort to escape!

Surge waited a moment until she was sure everyone was far away enough before speaking to Sonic. "When I get my hands on Mimic he's dead. I don't care about your goody two shoes moral crap. This guy has to go, once and for all, and I ain't going to let you stop me." The tenrec wanted to get this sorted here and now, even if it meant her and the hedgehog went at it in a brawl over what to do with Mimic.

"Before you say anything, think about it. How'd you feel if he betrayed everyone YOU work with and got them all killed. Then continues to hunt you day in and day out just to end you as well. Someone like Mimic NEEDS to go, just like Eggman. You can sit on your high horse and let people hurt you, though this is about them hurting others. Can you seriously tell me you think Mimic will stop?"

The octopus Wisp hums lightly feeling the energy added, though it was still pretty worn out, but could hover once more. It did attempt to open a portal again with less that success. "So tired, though Rowan needs help." The Wisp thought about trying to share energy with Sonic or Surge, though wasn't sure if they had enough in them. It would continue to try and draw more energy, not wanting to risk taking more from the others, that was until it got a headache. "Oh dear, someone made her mad. Not good, not good." It suddenly seemed panicked as it went around the room.

==========================================================

Rowan was able to grab onto the edge of the platform he landed on, quickly pulling himself up before Mimic got the drop on him. Thankfully it seemed the shaking spooked him to try and take higher ground, or he was just trying to gain some distance. The lemur about to ask if he's ready to call it quits, though saw him coming down. Guess this wasn't ending anytime soon.

Rowan then watched what he did to the Wisp, making him glare at him. "You really are trash. Even if you end me you aren't getting out of here without a shadow Wisp, so give it your best shot." The lemur took a common MMA stance, though once more the void began to shake, only it didn't stop and the platforms began shaking too. "This is new," he said, tucking his legs and turning his feet inward to keep his balance. Boy was he glad he took some karate a few years ago as this stance was made to keep balance even on the most rocky of environments.

Suddenly a giant eye would look at the two, then another, and finally a third, all spaced apart a diagonal to each other. Then a huge light pick octopus Wisp appeared, about the size of a large Eggman airship. It's gaze would shift to Rowan looking annoyed, though not angry.

"Hey, don't look at me. He's the one banging Wisp around in a tube," Rowan said, using his thumb to motion to Mimic. The lemur wished Sneaks was in here right now to explain, though not like he was the one wearing a Wispon.

The massive Wisp turned it's eyes to Mimic, it's gaze suddenly becoming extremely angry as a lot of Hyper-Go-On Energy began building around it. "☟︎□︎⬥︎ ♎︎♋︎❒︎♏︎ ⍓︎□︎◆︎ ♒︎◆︎❒︎⧫︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎⬧︎♏︎ ♍︎♒︎♓︎●︎♎︎❒︎♏︎■︎✏︎" It would then begin to move towards Mimic, reaching out with one of it's tentacles to grab him while using other's to move platforms out of it's way. It seems it was trying to limit his ability to run.

[wthtorke]

Presence.

Angst with a happy ending for @death0core​ !

Big Mama x Reader, 1755 words, warning for violence, blood etc

Hope you like it!

At first, you hadn't really given Big mama much credit in the emotional department. 

You met in about the worst way possible when she stopped her wandering about the galaxy to answer to your distress signal on a planet that was crawling with aliens. With xenomorphs, you'd later come to know.

She saved your day and dropped you and the other, very frightened, 6 people who survived at the nearest space station. Bid you goodbye with a single nod of her head and went on her way. 

"Is that all?" You thought, hugging your own arms to stop their shaking and bleeding from the slashing wound on your left arm. An alien-, a yautja had just saved your life, but not a word was traded, not one kind gesture, not one "are you well?", things didn't….happen like that. 

You frowned to yourself, thinking about it hard while the station's security team contacted your company to come to pick you up. You'd heard a lot about yautjas, you could consider yourself lucky one of them even helped but-, wasn't there always something more? Weren't you supposed to talk? Become friends? Maybe? 

You recall her big form sat on her chair at the cockpit, big hands never leaving the controllers at the panel, gaze never turning back to check on you or the other humans huddled at the back of her ship. It was so….cold, distant. You don't share it with anyone, you knew the emotional support you needed wouldn't come from an alien, but you heard so many stories about them, stories about humans and yautjas who found comfort in each other, the human finding stability while the yautja found kindness and understanding. 

Where had your stability gone to, after she nodded at you and left? 

You suck it up well enough, the weight of being a survivor crushed on you. You were alone the whole process, nobody cared.

In the end, after explaining time and time again what happened to your company, after going through countless interviews where you relived the attack time and time again, you were fired. 

It wasn't fair, definitely not. Another blow to your mental health that had you clinging to anything to whatever little comfort you could. You gather your things and the credits from your last job with them, plus the 'don't talk about the attack' money they bribed you with. It was either the credits or disappearing after a week as it happened with one of your fellow survivors who refused the money. You just wanted to leave.

You shut down when you get on a commercial flight somewhere, getting real rest for the first time in god knows how long. You had no idea where the last stop was, but you'd only get down there. 

Ironically enough, you find yourself descending the ramp and find the exact same view you did when she rescued you. The same space station. Andromeda.

It takes a couple of shoves from people behind you to get you to move, clutching your bag close as you make your way out there. You had enough credits to get you a break, you didn't need to work right away-, but being alone was too much to bear, so you rent a small apartment and get to find a job. 

Weeks pass and you're now working on the maintenance of the station, the orange jumpsuit, and a card with your name hanging at your pocket granting you access just about anywhere. You still feel odd. The friends you make are shallow almost, with no real connections outside of your work. You work, get home, eat, shower and sleep, waking up to work more the next day. Being too tired makes you not dream, it's what you strive for, keeps the nightmares at bay.

You're wanted at the hangar one morning, there's something wrong with one of the docking slots, so you take your toolbox and walk up to it. The ship that tried to dock on it docks on the side one. You'd recognize the ship anywhere, though the last time you saw it was in this same port, flying away from you. 

You blink a couple of times, setting your toolbox near the broken dock’s panels, crouching down to mess with it, though you make no further move, waiting for her to show up. Waiting for her to leave the ship. Soon enough, the ship’s ramp lowers and the internal hatch lifts with loud mechanical noises and some steam blowing from the exhaust pipes of the ship. 

You hear the steps before she comes into view, same armor, same mask, though both now bore more marks than you remembered. It was her. Big Mama. At first, you didn’t know her name, not even that information came to you without some asking around, the station’s head of security, a human woman with scars similar to yours said her name. Her human name.

‘Big mama’, you thought, scoffing at the time. That name implied some type of motherly instinct, you had found none within her. Still, you bit your lip when she made her way down her ship’s ramp, messing with what you also came to know was a wrist gauntlet. Should you talk to her? You didn’t know. Back on the rescue, she didn’t answer you, even if she had, would you have known what she was saying? Maybe not, but her efforts would have meant something. Anything.

You touch the translator lodged into your ear channel. Every staff member had one, no matter what area they worked in the station. You could try again, maybe this time she would listen and answer? You look down at your toolbox, frowning. What would you even say to her? Tell her how you wished she had stuck around and what? Held your hand through everything? You already felt silly enough thinking an alien who saved you should have cared more. All of this was so fucking stupid.

“Human.” 

Your head shoots up again, Big Mama stood beside you. 

Your mouth opens and closes a couple of times like a fish out of water, trying to find the words to answer to her. What was happening? Could she always speak your language? Why didn’t she back then? Why now?.... Did she really remember you at all? 

“I-, yes, hello?” You say, still unsure. 

Her mask tuns slightly, towards your left arm. “I wondered if it had healed well.” She says, the voice is robotic, almost like an AI, words mashed together to create phrases. You frown again, confused, “Why would you care?” It’s a genuine question, not meant to be snappy or angry, you really needed to know. 

She crosses her arms, “I tried looking for you, when I came back, you were gone.” She says as you get up from your crouching, “Came back? What do you mean?” Your heartbeat faster at her words, that chest tightness that came with anxiety crushing your chest from inside out. “My bio mask had a malfunction when I found your distress signal, I was returning to get it fixed when I brought you here.” She explains, your heart feels like it’s about to burst.

“So, what’s why you didn’t say anything? Your-, I thought you just…didn’t care? You left us here so we thought that was it, the station helped us contact the corporation and they sent another ship to get us.” You say, Big Mama’s mask nodding as you speak.

“I got my mask fixed and returned to you, without it fixed I couldn’t communicate to anyone that wasn’t one of my kind. I can’t speak your language.” she continues, “I thought you had perished from your wounds, an infection maybe, but I was informed other humans came to transfer you somewhere, but they wouldn’t tell me where to.” 

You run your hand through your face, a cold sweat running down your cheek, “The company demanded we don’t speak of the occurrence, I made a deal and everything-, they must have informed the station to keep their mouths shut, I-, I couldn’t imagine you’d return, I had no idea-, you had no reason to.” You say, as bitter as that makes you feel, it’s the truth.

Big Mama shakes her head, “You survived a serpent attack, you told me at your ship that you managed to take down two but there were many others-,” Your eyes widen, “How do you know if your mask wasn’t working?”

She taps the edge of her mask, where three red dots rest in the shape of a triangle, you recall her using it to shoot the things, “I recorded everything, should the rescue fail, my people needed to know what happened, later I translated your words. I already had plans to return, but after knowing what you were saying, I knew I had to find you again.” She says. “You are a human hunter, deserver of bearing my people’s mark for your success. But your wellbeing is not of my interest for that fact.” 

You freeze. “My-, wellbeing? Then why-?” 

Big mama shakes her head, “I wish things were different in how they happened, had you been here when I returned, we could have talked.” She says, “You wouldn’t have been alone.” 

At this, you feel tears well up in your eyes. She cared, all this time and you had no idea. Things could have been just how you wanted if fate wasn’t so cruel. “I wished you were here so bad-, I don’t know why I got so attached to you but I did-, I-,” you rub at your eyes, wiping the tears away, “I thought I’d never see you again.” 

Big Mama nods, “I had also lost hopes of knowing your whereabouts….but it seems the gods have not wanted so.” she says, extending her hand to you, “From now on you shall not be alone. You have in me a partner, I will support you in your healing.” You grab her hand, her fingers alone engulfing your smaller hand, for the first time in months you smile, a relieved smile, full of hope.

Big Mama sticks around the station for a couple of weeks while you work, coming back and forth from hunts and missions until you both decide it’s time to move on. You quit your job at the station, looking at it one last time before making your way up to Big Mama’s ship, your bag slung on your shoulder, ready for your future with her.

[mypoisonedvine]

The Wrong Idea | Lee Bodecker x reader

summary: you weren’t exactly a rebel in the eyes of the law, but that didn’t mean you cared for the corrupt, alcoholic town sheriff.  and that certainly didn’t mean you would care at all for him marrying your mother.  if only you’d known how much worse it could get...

word count: 4.5k

warnings: smut!! (heavy dubcon/noncon), age gap (reader is 19), stepcest, loss of virginity, pain kink, creampie kink, infidelity, degradation, oral (m and f receiving), spanking, choking, slapping, daddy kink, authority kink, subtle ddlg themes?, reader’s mom being toxic af

You’d never cared for the Sheriff.  Even you, being generally a well-behaved young woman, thought he was a little too intense and a little too corrupt.  Up until now, you’d assumed your mother agreed with you on that, because she never protested to your complaints about Sheriff Bodecker and his ‘fascist reign of terror’ as you called it.  Apparently that was a poor assumption, though.

“You… what?!”

“I never told you we were seein’ each other because I knew you had your childish rebellion against him and his police force,” your mother explained with a demeaning eyeroll.  “But now that we’re engaged, I can’t hide it anymore.”

“How long has this been going on?” you asked quietly, still in shock at what you were hearing— and unable to take your eyes off of the sparkling diamond wrapped around her finger.

“Oh, I’d say… about two months now,” she decided.

“Two—” you stopped and started over, so bewildered that you couldn’t finish your original sentence.  “You’re engaged after two months?”

“Don’t make that face at me, you look so ugly when you scowl like that,” she frowned.  Of course, she could never miss an opportunity to nag you.  “He’s a respectable man, and he treats me well.  The wedding is in three weeks— and he’s generous enough to let you live with us after that.  Says there’s a spare bedroom for you in his house.”

“His… his house…” you slurred, suddenly feeling light-headed.  “I’m… we’re moving…?”

“Yes, honey, and with your work ethic it’ll take you the whole three weeks to pack up, so you should start now,” she informed you with that cruel, fake smile of hers.

She walked away as you sat down on the couch, staring off into space, trying to comprehend what you just heard.  It’s not like you thought your mother was flawless or anything, or that you and her had a perfect relationship, but you thought she would’ve been a little more… gentle about all this.  She could do better than him anyways!  But she didn’t care about that, only money and status.  You could almost laugh at her small-mindedness to think the Sheriff of a nothing-town like Knockemstiff was actually plentiful in either of those things, but right now you couldn’t laugh.  You couldn’t even cry as you packed your things and said goodbye to the home you’d known your whole life.  You were just numb.

//

You couldn’t look him in the eye when you arrived at his house, duffel bags in hand and shoes stained with the dry red dirt of summer.  It was nicer than your old place, and if it were anyone else’s you’d say it had charm, but everything was tainted because you knew it was his.  You could sort of tell that this had been his bachelor pad for a while, but it had a half-assed attempt at hominess with the rug in the living room and a centerpiece on the kitchen table.  He even had a TV, presumably funded by bribes and all his other nefarious dealings— meaning you wouldn’t be able to bring yourself to watch it.

“Nice to meet ya, properly,” Lee greeted, though his monotone didn’t come across as particularly impassioned.

“Thank you, Sheriff,” you mumbled quickly, hoping to get this conversation over with.

“You don’t have to call me Sheriff anymore, you know.  Not in the house, at least.”

You nodded but said nothing, following him as he motioned for you and moved into the hallway.  You trailed behind him, noticing the eerie lack of any personal effects on the walls (no family photos, apparently, and not much of a family to photograph in the first place from what you’d heard), and stopped when he reached the door at the end.

“This is your room,” Lee informed you stiffly.  Opening the door, you were horrified by the assault on your eyes of pink.  Pink everything: pink wallpaper, a pink fuzzy quilt, pink bedframe.  There were even assorted stuffed animals on the bed, disturbingly enough.

“When my mother told you she had a daughter, did she not mention that I was grown?”

“You may be nineteen, honey, but you’re nowhere near grown,” he scowled.  “She didn’t tell me she had a daughter until two days before the weddin’.  This is what I managed to... improvise, since then.”

You almost had sympathy for him, just in that you two were both victims of your mother’s eccentricity.  Almost.  

“Must’ve inherited your expensive taste from your ma,” he frowned.  “Sorry, princess—” the nickname made his lips curl like the word itself tasted sour— “but this’ll have to do.”

“Oh, I’m nothing like her,” you sneered back, “cause I wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole.”

“What are you two chatting about?” your mother’s voice called from the kitchen.

Both of you answered at the same time: “Nothing!” 

With a grimace, you dragged your bag into the room and shut the door in his face.  It was those little acts of rebellion that had to tide you over.  You weren’t audacious enough to do anything actually cruel, or illegal, but you weren’t going to make this any easier for him.

At first it was just refusing to leave your room.  That worked for a week, until you realized you were going to starve to death.  So then the only times you saw him were at the dinner table, which you made into a protest by pretending he didn’t exist and refusing to answer his questions.  You occasionally relented when he asked you to pass something from your side of the table, but you never looked at him while you did it.  

He didn’t seem angry or sad about your determination to avoid him, if anything it seemed like he was happy to pretend you weren’t there either.  And that should’ve made it easier, but for some reason it bothered you even more.  You realized that maybe his attention did matter to you, even though it was negative attention that you were hoping to inspire, but you knew that was ridiculous and you tried to fight it.  Still, for all your plans to never see him, you sure did think about him a lot.  You thought about where he might be, so you could be somewhere else.  You thought about what he must be doing at work, and how he was probably continuing to be a nasty mean drunk as frequently as possible.  You wondered if he and your mother were making love just across the house, although you were lucky enough to never hear anything.  Just knowing that could be happening made you feel sick, even though you realized it was none of your business.  

You sometimes found yourself listening for it at night, just in case.

//

Your mother had decided to spend her new husband’s money on a trip, but the man himself couldn’t tag along— too much work to do, apparently.  The prospect of being left alone with him was nightmare fuel, but you didn’t even try to ask her to stay… you knew she wouldn’t listen.  She’d been totally absorbed in her own world since the wedding, seeming to be very fulfilled by the social role of ‘Sheriff’s wife’ to the point that she had lost all interest in her former position as ‘your mom’.  

There was a balance to the silence with her gone, though.  You avoided him, he avoided you; it was a tense truce, but a survivable one.  At least without her, nobody was going to try to make you two get along.  Friday night was different, though.  This time when he came home from work, you knew you were stuck with him until Monday morning.  That thought made you realize that you needed to get out and you didn’t care if you weren’t dressed for it.  It was hot, and it was just a walk so nobody was going to see you in this miniskirt anyway, right?

Too bad Lee was sitting on the couch, still in his uniform, not giving you any mind but likely to harass you before you could make it outside.  You figured if you just walked casually enough, he wouldn’t even notice, so you made your way towards the door.

“You’re not going out like that,” he announced suddenly, seemingly without even looking up from his newspaper.

“Says who?” you deflected quickly with a raised brow.  It wasn’t that you wanted to pick a fight, but you just couldn’t understand why he would even care what you were wearing.

“Says the guy who doesn’t want you to give all the neighborhood boys the wrong idea.”

“What idea?!” you asked, crossing your arms.  He shot you a look, quickly raking in your body and outfit which made you feel more observed than you cared for.

“The idea that you’re a slut,” he explained coldly.

You gulped at his words but tried to keep a poker face.  You didn’t let it get this far just to give up.  You were so sick of his shit; what made him think he could boss you around when he’d never even tried to get to know you?

“What makes you assume that’s the wrong idea?” you shot back, fighting the nervousness in your voice.

You hadn’t expected him to stand up instantly, the coffee table wobbling a bit when his knee bumped into it.

“The fuck did you say?” he hissed.

With his teeth bared at you he looked like a predator, and you felt like small, helpless prey.  You tried to muster some of your former confidence, but everything came out shaky and weak.  “I— I said that maybe it’s not the wrong ide—”

He pounced, crossing the room and slamming you back against the wall, a hand at each shoulder; you instantly cowered, shrinking back and turning your face away from him as far as you could.  You never thought he’d put his hands on you like this.  Your heart was pounding so loudly that you were surprised you could hear his hoarse whisper.

“Watch your tone with me.  I’m not kidding around.”

“I’m an adult,” you weakly fought back, “I can do what I want.”

“Not in my fuckin’ house you can’t!” he bellowed.

For some reason, it all hit you at once.  All the emotions you’d been suppressing since your mother had gotten engaged— all the anger and fear and betrayal and indignation, they came bubbling up before you could stop them.  

“I don’t even want to be in your ugly fucking house!” you cried in response.  “I don’t wanna be anywhere near you!  You’re a fascist and a tyrant and a pig!”

You expected him to get more aggressive but he suddenly stilled.  It was the scariest anger, that outwardly-calm type that made your blood go cold.

“Go to your room.”

You didn’t question it, turning to walk away (any excuse to get away from him, right?), but you didn’t expect him to follow you in and shut the door behind the both of you.

You were paralyzed with fear as he stepped past you and sat on your bed.  It was sort of strange as you realized you’d never seen him in your room before.  He stood out against the somewhat childish decorations, but you were in no mood to appreciate the humor of the situation as he patted his knee.

“Lay across my lap.  Don’t make me tell you twice.”

He couldn’t possibly be doing what I think he’s doing, could he? you wondered to yourself, but did as he asked.  You realized you’d never been so close to him before, the warmth of his body radiating through his clothes.  He smelled like cologne and booze, although you didn’t think he’d actually had much to drink yet today— at least compared to his normal habits.  It was almost worse to think that he wasn’t acting on drunkenness now.

“It’s prob’ly too late for it, but you are in serious need of discipline, young lady.”

You had no idea what he was talking about, but your body reacted to it differently than you expected.

His fingers slipped between the top of your skirt and your skin, having to pull pretty hard to get it down due to how tight it was.  You bit your lip and hoped he wouldn’t notice your arousal, but as your pussy was exposed, you could feel the breeze from the ceiling fan and you knew you were undeniably wet.  You didn’t know why, but you were.

“Count them for me,” he instructed coldly and before you could ask what you were counting, he brought his hand down firmly.  You felt his wedding ring in the slap and it made you feel a little sick.

“O-one,” you stammered.

He delivered four more, alternating cheeks, and you tried not to react with visible pain.  But as the intensity increased, you realized that not reacting might’ve actually been making it worse.  Either way, you couldn’t stop yourself from crying out when the eighth made your whole body lurch forward from the force.

“Eight!” you squealed, but both of you noticed the way you pushed your hips forward.  Unintentional as it may have been, you were trying to rub yourself on his thigh, desperate to be touched where it felt like all the energy of your body had focused.  You were sure you’d never been so horny before, and now your clit was nearly throbbing.  What the fuck is wrong with me?!

He quickly delivered the final two slaps before grabbing your neck, hoisting you up until you were on your knees before him.  He examined your face closely and you tried to keep your lip from shaking.

“You’re worse than I thought,” he hissed.  “You are in dire need of a punishment.  You should thank me for going so easy on you so far.”

You realized when his grip on your jaw tightened that he was being literal.  “Thank you, for going easy on me…”

“Where’d that fire go, huh?  Guess you’re all talk,” he laughed.  

He roughly shoved his fingers into your mouth, moaning lowly as your tongue rubbed against the pads of his fingers.  “This fuckin’ mouth.  You just don’t know when to keep it shut, do you?  Come on baby, open up.  I’ve got a better use for it than your fuckin’ disrespectful attitude.”

He used his free hand to work on his belt right in front of your face, and your eyes went wide.

“Don’t act so surprised sweetheart,” he said with a hint of irritation, “this is exactly what you’re asking for.”

You gasped a bit when his cock was freed from his trousers, springing up and already red at the tip.  You’d never seen one this close before and it was intimidating in every way.

“Like what you see?  You’re so wet for it,” he purred.  You tried to speak but words abandoned you. 

It was all a blur as he held your mouth open and shoved his cock inside— it tasted like skin and salt, and the size made your chapped lips crack until you worried they would bleed.  His moans were deep and gravelly, making your skin break out into goosebumps as he pumped smoothly into your pliant mouth.  He slapped your face a few times, not quite hard but plenty strong enough to make it sting.  You winced with each impact, the tears which had welled from your gagging finally falling down and dripping from your chin.

“Suck on it, princess, like a popsicle… fuck yeah, like that,” he groaned, and your mind resisted obeying him but your body was completely at his mercy.  “Aw baby, ya look so good chokin’ on my cock.  Is that what you were gonna go do in this slutty little outfit you’ve got on?”

You tried to shake your head but he was holding you down, not even giving you a chance to breathe.  His protruding stomach rubbed against your forehead when his cock was this deep in your throat, and the disgust and fear somehow made your arousal stronger.

He let you go, finally, and you pulled back with a gasp and a cough.  You weren’t given much reprieve, though, as he started to tug at your blouse as well.

“No, wait,” you whimpered, weakly trying to bat his hands away.

“Wait?  I think I’ve been waiting long enough,” he growled.  “Your ma’s a fuckin’ tease, hasn’t touched me since I got her that ugly fuckin’ ring.  Let’s hope you learn from her mistakes.”

Your blouse was torn open and tossed aside, leaving you only in the pulled-up skirt and your bra.  Reaching up to cover yourself, you were discouraged by the shockingly-gentle brush of his hands. 

“Don’t cover yourself, sweetheart, you’re gorgeous,” he murmured.  His gaze made you feel hot all over, and it wasn’t just because of the summer weather outside.  “Nobody ever looked at ya before?”

You shook your head, looking down at the floor.  A finger under your chin guided you to look up at him.  

“Nobody ever touched ya before?” he pressed, his stare boring into you.  You shook your head again.  “Fuck,” he whispered, but then he started to smile proudly.  “Knew you were a good girl, princess, you just didn’t wanna act like one for some reason.  You gonna be good for me now?” 

You nodded weakly, swallowing as you tried to comprehend what was happening.  

“Then I’ll be good to you, too,” he promised darkly, a shimmer in his eyes that made you throb between your thighs.  “Come get on the bed, pretty girl.”

You almost resisted, but it was your need driving you now, not your mind.  You had been waiting too long to let a boy touch you, and now that a man had touched you, you felt all kinds of wrong and yet craved more.  Before you had even finished sitting down beside him, he was slipping off your bra and pushing you back onto the quilt.

“Sheriff!” you yelped instinctively, a little disoriented as he started to climb on top of you.

He chuckled, clearly amused by your unexpected appeal to authority.  “Wanna know a secret, sweetheart?  Wanna know the real reason I said you didn’t have to call me that anymore?”  He leaned down, his breath hot and moist against your neck when he spoke: “Because it made me so fuckin’ hard when you said it.”

He pressed his cock, still wet with your spit, against your thigh; maybe just for emphasis, a reminder that he was still hard and wasn’t anywhere near done with you.

“What are you gonna do to me…?” you asked weakly, your voice so wavering and broken that you cringed just hearing it.  

“Just gonna make you feel good, princess,” he smiled, and before you could ask what that would entail, he was groping your tits in his large, calloused hands.  A low groan echoed in his chest, and you tried not to squirm as he teased your nipples between his fingers.  They were already hardening from the moment he’d touched you, but somehow it was getting even worse when he played with them, watching your face and surely seeing the shame you wore there.

His hands trailed lower, rubbing your waist, your thighs… you found yourself anticipating that he’d remove your panties, so much so that when he did, you quickly lifted your hips to help him slide them off.  You couldn’t believe how easily you were letting him do this to you.

“I can tell how much you want it,” he taunted lowly as the fabric slid down your legs and was tossed to the floor.  “I can smell how much you want it.”  He growled a little before diving in, licking a thick stripe through your folds and taking a moment right at the end to tickle your clit with his tongue.  “So fuckin’ sweet, princess; I knew you would be,” he praised.  You were forced to wonder how long he’d been thinking about this.

The noises were beyond obscene and you felt your face burning— but there was a burning in your gut, too, and shooting down your legs.  You’d never felt like this before (being a very good girl who never even touched herself), but you knew that if he didn’t stop, you would come.  And you really, really wanted to come.

Everytime he put pressure on your clit, your leg quivered involuntarily.  It was nearly too much, the sensation so powerful it almost hurt, but he pushed you right to the edge without knocking you off.

“Please,” you found yourself begging before you could stop it, “please, Sheriff—”

“I’m not your Sheriff anymore, sweetheart,” he informed you gruffly, popping up from between your legs with the entire bottom half of his face covered in your arousal, “I’m your daddy now.  Go on and beg your daddy to fuck you.”

Eyes shot wide open, you stared back at him in bewilderment.  Rage flashed in his eyes, and he snarled as his hand suddenly wrapped around your neck, tightening and choking you. 

“You heard me,” he groaned through his teeth.  “Beg me.  To fuck you.”

“Daddy,” you stammered, hoarsely fighting to speak through the pressure on your throat, “fuck me, please.”

He slammed his cock into you and you nearly screamed.  It burned and you instinctively tried to crawl away but, of course, his weight on top of you made it impossible.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned.  He laid down on top of you entirely then, slipping his arms under your torso and holding you tightly.

Each thrust made you feel like you had reached your limits, as if you couldn’t be stretched further which was probably true.  And yet, in spite of it (or worse, because of it), you found yourself moaning and writhing under him, even arching your back to make his movements smoother.  He laughed a little as he bit at the shell of your ear.

“You love it, baby,” he moaned, “you love my cock.”

You couldn’t respond, just sob as you clutched at the shirt still on his back, your jaw tight as you tried to bear the pain.  

“It’s not always gonna hurt like this,” he promised between heavy breaths, “s’gonna feel good soon.  Gonna make you feel so fuckin’ good, pretty girl.”

Truthfully, you weren’t sure if that meant that this would happen again or not.  At the moment, you were incapable of thinking that far ahead, too focused on the way the sting of the stretch was melting away and morphing into such powerful pleasure that you couldn’t even see straight.

He kissed you, and only then did the weight of it hit you.  Who he was, what he was doing, what you were doing… it had been distant and vague before, but something about his tongue inside your mouth made you remember that the metal digging into your back was his ring; that the lips on yours were sworn to somebody else— and at that, the one exact person that made this so fundamentally wrong.

Tears welled in your eyes, gentle sobs shaking your chest.

“Don’t cry, baby,” he whispered, pulling back and kissing your tears away, “feels good, don’t it?  Feels good when daddy fucks you?”

You knew speaking would only make you cry more, so you only nodded your head shamefully.

“That’s my good girl,” he moaned as he fucked you deeper, harder, rougher.  Your fingers held onto the back of his neck, running through his hair and pulling him closer.  He kept mumbling praises but they fell on deaf ears, pleasure clouding your mind and making every hair on your body stand upright.  He didn’t stop as he reached down between your bodies and laid his hand over your stomach, growling with satisfaction at what he found there.

“I can feel me inside ya,” he grinned.  “Feel that, sweetheart?  Feel how deep I am in your wet little cunt?”

When you didn’t answer, you got a quick slap to the face.  “Yes,” you replied quickly, “yes, I— I feel it.”

He buried his face into the crook of your neck, biting you there until you nearly screamed.  You couldn’t figure out why something so objectively painful only pushed you closer to your peak, making every spot inside you more sensitive, but somehow it did.

“Gonna come, pretty girl?  Want daddy to fill you up?” he groaned against your ear, pushing down on your stomach even harder.

“Yes, daddy!” you sobbed.  “Please!”

“Fuck, you’re squeezin’ me,” he hissed, “don’t fuckin’ stop.  Keep milkin’ my cock and m’gonna fill ya up so good, princess…”

You couldn’t stop even if you tried— your orgasm hit you in powerful waves, your head falling back as your walls clenched involuntarily (as did your fingers and toes, so hard that your nail tore the sheets a little bit, which you wouldn’t notice until the next day).  He grunted as he came, pumping into you with each thrust until you felt more full than you ever had before, in a way you could never describe.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, him catching his breath and you losing yours as his weight threatened to crush you.  “Fuck,” he groaned as he sat up and pulled out.  He grabbed your legs and held them up for you, staring at your abused pussy and making you feel uncomfortably observed.

“Push it out for me, wanna see my come leak outta ya,” he purred, moaning a little when you did as he asked.  It felt even hotter as it gushed out of you, and you mindlessly bit your lip.  He tucked his softening cock back into his trousers, rezipping them and buckling his belt.  “We’d better get ya cleaned up, huh princess?” 

The bathroom wasn’t far, so he carried you, setting you down to stand on your own as he started to draw a bath.  You watched him, although you weren’t really watching him so much as staring into the void of space that happened to be in his general direction.  You were so out of it that you didn’t even register when he turned around and smiled at you with an air of pride.

“You look so good like this.”  

It pulled you out of your trance, though you had to ask him to repeat himself with a mumbled “huh?”

“I said you look good like this,” he explained, stepping closer.  “Fucked out, braindead, just my empty-headed fucktoy.”

“I… I don’t…” you began to disagree.

He used your jaw to turn your face to the mirror, and you gasped when you saw yourself: your hair was a mess; your whole face was red, especially your eyes and nose from crying, but plenty on your cheeks where he’d slapped you; your lips were swollen and slick; bruises were already forming on your arms where he’d grabbed you, and along your neck and shoulders where he had bitten you.

His form dwarfed yours as he stood behind you, looking at your reflection with a smile.

“Look at us,” he announced wistfully, “one big happy family, huh?”

[plus-size-reader]

Why

Cato Hadley x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2108 words

Warnings: none

Summary:  Reader is a tribute for the Hunger Games, no one thinks she’s going to make it until Cato steps in. The one thing you don’t understand is, Why does he care? 

Updated version of “Why Does He Care” an old fan favorite. 

—————————————————————————————————

They knew you wouldn’t win. 

It hadn’t even registered as a possibility in most of their minds, but that didn’t matter all that much. 

All the game makers cared about was that you made a show of it, and if you could, got stabbed in view of one of the thousands of cameras surrounding the arena.

That was all you had to do. 

You weren’t the strongest, the fastest, or the smartest that your district had to offer and everyone seemed to have already come to terms with the fact that you would be leaving the arena in a body bag.

They just didn’t see how a woman of your status and stature could ever hope to compete with others in the games. Against the Careers, a group of highly trained young people whose lives revolved around being able to win, you would surely meet your end. 

However, you weren’t going to just accept defeat right off the bat. 

Even if you didn’t win, you were going to put up one hell of a fight once that canon went off. You owed that to your family, and your district, and yourself. 

No one in their right mind wanted to participate in the Hunger Games,and you certainly didn’t want to either, but you had been chosen to represent your district and you weren’t going to shy away from the responsibility. 

At the very least, you had to try. 

If nothing else, the fact that no one believed in you could serve as an extra push, the push you would need to take down as many other tributes as possible in the process. 

You knew that you could do that. 

Though, that fire did sort of dull as soon as you walked into the large training room, surrounded by all the other tributes from all the other districts. Once you got a look at them up close, you were less sure of yourself than you had ever been. 

How quickly it had all changed.

From the moment you walked into that room, which was more of a cell of brushed aluminum and cool steel, you were forced to recon with the reality of the situation. 

This was happening. 

You were going to die. 

The way in which you would die wasn’t something you were all that fond of considering, but as best you could tell, the Career pack would be to blame. 

Stories of what they were capable of, training tirelessly to volunteer for their games and slaughter the competition were widespread all over Panem but you couldn’t have imagined how intimidating they were in real life. 

Each one of them was a skilled, and accurate, death machine and you had no chance of surviving an altercation with even the weakest among them, who you had ultimately decided was Glimmer. 

She was talented and smart but lacked the determination that the others had. 

Even in her case though, you could see what they always said about the Careers. They were raised to believe there was no other point to their lives other than to win the Hunger Games. 

If they didn’t win, they weren’t worth anything, not that it would matter. If they didn’t win, they would end up just the same as all the rest of you, in a shallow grave somewhere. 

That was just how it was. 

You did your best to keep to yourself at first, not wanting to elicit any more violence than absolutely necessary right off the bad. It was no secret to you that the other tributes didn’t take you seriously. 

The last thing you wanted was for them to try and prove themselves at your expense before you were out in that arena. 

Unfortunately, the other tributes, namely the Careers, had already made up their minds. In the few days that you had been training, they had been making fun of you the entire time.

For them, it was one big joke.

When they looked at you, it was clear that all they saw was the first person they were going to stick their swords into. They didn’t take you seriously at all and at this point, you weren’t even sure if you blamed them. 

Each time you threw a punch or swung your axe at a target, they hooted and hollered from their place on the sidelines and called you out for each imperfection they saw in your maneuvers, and they weren’t wrong. 

You had no idea what you were doing. 

This was all new for you, because where you were from, hand to hand combat just wasn’t something you would have ever come across. Before now, you hadn’t even seen most of the things in front of you here. 

You were out of your element.

By the end of the first week, you hadn’t even begun to make any progress. However, there was one thing that had changed and you couldn’t even pinpoint when or why it had happened. 

At some point, Cato had stopped criticizing you in the same way his compatriots were.

You weren’t sure why he would even bother, but seeing as you didn’t really talk to him, you couldn’t ask. It was much easier to just be silently grateful for the break, and try to focus on what you were doing. 

While it wasn’t looking good to start, you didn’t want to sabotage your chances of survival with any more wasted time.  

The other Careers had noticed the change in him too, but not one of them dared to comment on it, even if it didn’t make any sense to them. The anger that they would risk in doing so just wouldn’t be worth getting answers. 

Instead, they let him do whatever it was he was doing, waving it off as some kind of tactical maneuver. He knew what he was doing, and it wasn’t their place to ask too many questions and get him off his game. 

When Cato first headed in your direction, closing the vast distance between you on the training floor, you assumed that he was intent on proving to you just how out of place you were here. 

...But that couldn't have been farther from the truth. 

In truth, what Cato was doing was far from a tactical measure. More than anything, he just couldn’t bring himself to make fun of you anymore. 

He didn’t think that your weight alone was enough to warrant the constant abuse you were suffering. 

Besides, It was clear that you were putting in a lot of work to get better, which was more than most of the other tributes were doing. You weren’t going to take this lying down, which he could respect. 

From the looks of it, your technique just needed some polishing, and you would be just as good a fighter as anyone here, with the exception of himself.

“You need to strike higher” he prompted, coming out of nowhere and nearly shocking you out of your fighting stance. You had been so focused that you didn’t even hear him approach. 

Still, it didn’t occur to you that he might have been trying to help at first. After all this time, he didn’t strike you as the friendly, just trying to help type. He was much more of the scowl and stab sort of person. 

You couldn’t be blamed for feeling that way. 

“Strike higher” he repeated, closing the space between you to wrap his arm around your frame, moving your axe in the exact way he had been telling you to do. 

There was nothing snide or rude in his tone, but you couldn’t focus on that.

All you could think about were his strong hands on your body, and the clear concern he had for whatever in the world he could have wanted from you. 

You tensed under his touch, desperately trying to decipher how you had gotten to this point or what you were supposed to do now that you were here. 

There was nothing particularly romantic about his touch, which you understood, but it was still foreign to be on the receiving end of. No one had ever held you like this, under any circumstances.

“Hit here, not here” he muttered, his voice far too close to your ear this time, forcing a breath from your lungs you weren’t aware you’d trapped there. He moved the axe, and your arm attached to it, to demonstrate what he meant. 

...And as much as you hated to admit it, he was right. 

When he moved his arms, in succession with his words, he hit the target at jugular height, instead of in the trunk where you had been aiming.

It was a much better hit than you had been landing all day, showing how much more experience he had with this than you. 

“Thanks” you muttered, glancing at him quickly, desperately hoping that he wouldn’t look at you but you wouldn’t have been so lucky.

Cato looked down just at the same moment as you turned your head to take in his profile. 

You expected him to say something about it but he offered nothing, content to just stare back down at you with a slight smirk on his face. 

“Somebody bigger than you is going to be able to push back if you aim here” he explained finally, lightly resting the palm of his right hand against your abdomen where you’d been aiming before. 

It made sense, of course. 

“If you aim at the weakest part, it doesn’t matter how much stronger an opponent is” he hummed, this time bringing that same hand up to where your throat was, not missing the way you gulped under his touch. 

“And you can’t kill anyone aiming at their ankles” he laughed, shrugging at that, as if he shouldn’t have to explain that part to you. Even someone who knew nothing about this wasn’t going to be shocked at that. 

Cato just didn’t want you to think that he was playing some sort of sick game with you. He was really trying to help, even if that wasn’t really in his nature. 

Never in his life had Cato cared about anyone, or been drawn to another person like he was with you. 

His entire life was all about winning the games, and there was nothing more than that. 

That was all he’d ever cared about. 

...But for some reason, making sure that you survived this whole thing was becoming really important to him. 

There was just something about you that he couldn’t put his finger on, but whatever it was, he didn’t have all that much time to figure it out. This whole thing was happening, whether he wanted it to or not. 

The best thing he could do for you was prepare you to survive, with or without him. 

“Oh, I couldn’t kill anyone” you hummed, doing your very best to be as nonchalant about it as you could. You were doing your best to figure out how to protect yourself out there but you had already made you mind up on that front. 

You weren’t going to kill anyone. 

It was something you had decided on before you even knew your name had been drawn the day of the reaping, but this was new information for Cato. 

New information that almost shocked him into silence. 

Cato had always known that he would need to kill someone, at some point. It was never a question in his mind, or something that even had any effect on him. It was part of his life, and to hear that someone else had never even considered it was new for him. 

If you didn’t kill anyone the entire time you were in the arena, you would die. 

You had to know that. 

Surely you knew that. 

“If you don’t, you’re going to die” he spoke, the words leaving his lips before he even had time to react. There was a finality to it, something you hadn’t seen coming, and at first, you thought it may have been a joke. 

The two of you really didn’t know each other all that well, or at all, so making jokes seemed sort of strange but it wasn’t necessarily something that upset you. 

You were just shocked at his urgency. 

This really was something that was bothering him, but there was one thing that was still bothering you. This was the first time you had ever spoken to him in your life, and as flattered as you were that he cared about what happened to you, it didn’t make any sense. 

Why did he care about someone like you?