#But I don't have one on hand so I'll just say that I put Flora through the Clive treatment in one fic <3 Flora I love you I swear

[another-clive-blog]

Oopsie daisy

[florencemtrash]

Take it Off - Azriel x Reader

Summary: You and Azriel have been friends for centuries... but what happens when he wakes up one day to find that things have changed? And how will he react when you start wearing Cassian's clothes?

Warnings: Angst. Jealous Azriel. Suggestiveness and then some (I don't know what warning to put, but it's spicier than my usual stuff is all I'll say). Cassian is an absolute menace... good for him

Author's note: Did I write this to procrastinate editing SSIB Ch 22 after watching Bridgerton S3?... yes

Is this a fucking game to you?

Cassian grinned over the lip of his cup, raising his brow in a poorly disguised expression of confusion. He’d been playing the innocent fool all throughout breakfast, seemingly oblivious to the daggers Azriel was throwing his direction every time he made you laugh.

Internally, he and Nesta were both cackling. He threw his arm over the back of his meta’s chair, plucking the cream puff she held out for him, and tossing it into his mouth with a shit-eating grin. 

I’ve not the faintest idea what you’re talking about, Azriel. Although it hurts me deeply to see you so upset.

Upset was an understatement. Azriel was holding onto his glass of orange juice so tightly cracks were beginning to form beneath his fingertips. 

You elbowed Azriel in the ribs, brows furrowed as you pointed your slice of toast towards his hand. “Are you ok?” You whispered low and just for his ears. 

The molten anger in his eyes melted away, hazel eyes softening as he took in your concerned expression. You were the first and only one of his family members to watch him so intensely. You could unravel the meaning in every twitch of his jaw, every rhythmic tap of his fingers against his thigh, every flicker of his shadows. You knew when he was upset, when he was happy, and when he wanted to laugh but had trouble expressing it. The only thing you weren’t aware of when it came to Azriel was how unbelievably in love with you he was. 

But that was his own fault. 

You’d watched him fawn over Mor for centuries, watched as he practically crawled on hand and knees for any kernel of affection she was willing to throw his way. Then, when you thought he’d finally gotten over his feelings for her, he’d chased after Elain’s heels like a dog in heat. You didn’t even want to begin thinking about Gwyn and the way she’d trampled over his hopes with the simple phrase, “I love you as a friend, Azriel. Nothing more.” 

No. It was entirely his fault that you’d learned to bury your own feelings for him so deep they’d become background noise — as inconsequential and ever present as the sound of your own breathing. 

Still… you couldn’t help but notice the secrets swimming in his eyes, the hurt and longing there that you could only guess the origin of. Who’d hurt him this time? You wondered. 

“I’m fine.” Azriel whispered, his hands ghosting over your thighs before deciding against touching you there. 

You hummed, clearly unconvinced. You held your toast in between your teeth, tasting the raspberry jam explode on your tongue as you reached over and carefully peeled Azriel’s fingers off his injured glass. 

His heart stuttered at the sight of your lips as they closed around your thumb, licking away crumbs and jam from your fingertips. But then his gaze dropped to your chest and his stomach soured. 

As Madja’s apprentice, you’d acquired a special interest in botany — an interest that had all but shoved you into Feyre’s studio so you could learn the skills necessary to depict all manner of flora and fauna in your field journal. When you’d complained about finding paint and charcoal stains over your clothes, Cassian had jumped on the opportunity to give you his old shirts to use as painting smocks. He had to congratulate himself for the stroke of genius. After all, he and Nesta had been discussing plans on how to get Azriel to admit his feelings for months now. 

Azriel did not respond well to outright suggestions or bullying. If he told Azriel to pull his head out of his ass and ask you on a proper date, the Shadowsinger would only hunker down on his preconceptions that he was unloveable, and that you were far too good for him. If he revealed to Azriel that you’d secretly loved him for decades that would only make him feel even more embarrassment and shame. 

No.

  Jealousy worked far better when it came to Azriel.

You looked comfortable and happy in Cassian’s clothes — a fact that escaped no one’s notice. You had the sleeves rolled up past your elbows, the rows of buttons at your back haphazardly done without wings to accommodate. You’d worn that particular shirt a half dozen times now and replaced any scent of Cassian with your own. 

Still, you were wearing another male’s shirt… and it was starting to drive Azriel insane.

“I was going to get rid of these and thought you might like them for… painting.” Azriel shifted on his feet, holding out the neatly stacked pile of clothes for you. 

You were laying on your stomach in bed, colored pencils and textbooks splayed out around you, but quickly righted yourself and sifted through the piles he handed you.

You held one up for a better look. 

“Azriel, you were just wearing this last week.” It still smelled like him — the scent of the Illyrian mountains at night woven through the soft, cotton material. “I can’t take this. Or this. Or this!” 

“I have more just like them.” 

You huffed, fists balanced on your hips. 

Azriel was a simple male with ample space in his wardrobe. When he wasn’t in his Illyrian leathers he wore the same three outfits on rotation, all of them nearly identical. If there was anyone who shouldn’t be giving away clothes, it was Azriel. 

“I really appreciate it, Az, but I’m ok. I don’t need these. Cassian already gave me enough hand-me-downs to last two decades at least.” 

A muscle in Azriel’s jaw jumped out. “Well I’m glad for that.” He was practically seething. You noticed, as you always did, but you couldn’t imagine that you were the cause of his frustrations. 

“Are you sure you’re alright, Az? You’ve been acting strangely the past few days.” 

“It’s nothing.”

“I doubt that.” 

There were various things on his mind, chief among them you. So he took hold of the olive branch you’d extended him and laid down beside you, talking about everything and nothing at all. But one thing he avoided talking about at all costs was how the gentle scraping of your nails through his hair as he rested his head in your lap made him want to lock the door and never come out. 

He wanted to bury his face beneath your sundress and then tear it to pieces. He wanted to dive under the covers and leave an assortment of marks on your skin. To hold you so close that you began to smell like one another. 

You lay down beside him, leaning your head against his shoulder so he caught whiffs of your elderberry and lemon shampoo. 

“You know you can tell me anything, right? That’s what friends are for.” 

Right… friends. He was starting to hate that word. 

“Yes… I know.” 

How long do you think he’ll last?

Nesta felt Cassian’s soft laugh blow over the back of her neck as they crouched just behind the door of Feyre's painting studio.

Azriel had been undeniably irritable the last two weeks, his patience fraying like a linen skirt with the hem torn off. Cassian was still sporting a bruise on his cheek from this morning’s sparring session after one of his teasing remarks had hit a little too close to home. 

Not much longer. Look at him, Nes. He’s practically vibrating.

Nesta slapped her hand over her mouth, stifling her laughter. 

Azriel was restless, his wings kept opening and closing with agitation and the curve of his ears had long since turned a bright shade of pink. He’d had his shadows knock over a cup of ink earlier, sending its contents splattering over your shirt and staining the fabric beyond repair. But you’d only shrugged and said, “It’s my painting shirt. It’s meant to get dirty,” before going back to your canvas with a soft smile. The moment you’d turned your back to him, he’d silently cursed the ceiling. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid. He kicked himself, too focused on your continuing conversation to think that his meddling brother and sister-in-law might be watching. 

He hadn’t expected his emotions to take over so quickly, least of all with you. You’d been his best friend for over two hundred years. You were a staple in his life, more familiar to him than the childhood blanket he still had tucked away in his drawer. There was no reason why he should suddenly wake up one day and realize with a shock of surprise that he loved you and couldn’t imagine living in a world that didn’t have you in it. 

It had been such a silly moment as well. You’d been getting ready for Starfall, your hair done up and a flush of color spread over your cheeks and lips. He’d come to check in on you and lost his breath when he saw you sitting at the vanity, holding up earrings to your neck to see if they matched the satin of your deep blue gown. And then you’d politely asked him to lace up your dress and he’d nearly swallowed his tongue in surprise, forcing his hands to stop shaking as they brushed against your spine. Gods he’d wanted to throw himself off a balcony that night, if only because you’d be the one tasked with healing him. 

He wanted to throw himself off the balcony now. Let the ground swallow him whole so he wouldn’t have to make a fool of himself in front of you… again. 

I give it another week. Nesta declared.

Cassian smirked. I know my brother. He won’t last another three days.

In the end they were both wrong. 

It only took two days for Azriel to finally snap.

“Take it off.” 

You swiveled around in your chair, tongue pressing against your cheek as you wondered what gave Azriel the audacity to march into your private lesson with Feyre and make such an out-of-character demand. 

“What?” You asked, furrowing your brows. 

Azriel stood as still as an obsidian statue in the doorway. His wings loomed over his shoulders, talons reaching towards the ceiling tense and twitching. 

“Take. It. Off,” he repeated through gritted teeth. He clutched a neatly folded shirt in his hands, knuckles pale and bloodless from the tight grip. You’d been wearing Cassian’s clothes almost every day this past week and he couldn’t stand it anymore. He couldn’t stand sitting beside you at the dinner table or in the library, the laughter in his throat dying when he caught Cassian’s scent drifting off your skin. 

It was maddening the way you didn’t think anything of it. 

Yes, Cassian was practically a brother to you, and yes, he was a mated male but… fuck it bothered Azriel so much to think of anyone else laying claim to you. To think that one day you might actually walk around wearing another male’s clothes because you loved them. To think that that male wouldn’t be him. 

He’d tried to bring up the topic with you in his own round-about way, but you’d shrugged off all his suggestions of wearing something — anything — else. 

“If you want painting clothes, why don’t we go shopping this afternoon? I’m sure Feyre has recommendations. Or we could just walk around the Rainbow until something catches your eye.” 

“I’m not a full time artist, and it seems silly to spend money on clothes you intend to ruin.” 

“Why don’t you ask Feyre or Mor for hand-me-downs then? They’ll fit you better and the sleeves won’t drag so much.” 

“I like it when my clothes are loose.” 

Feyre glanced between the two of you, namely the flare of Azriel’s nostrils and the way he ground his teeth so intently you worried he’d crack a tooth. 

“I’m… going to leave now.”

“Wait—Feyre!” 

The High Lady kissed your cheek, a knowing look in her eyes, before scurrying out the door. 

Don’t scowl so much, Az, you’re making her nervous. She chirped to the Shadowsinger before slipping down the hallway and disappearing. 

She made it all of ten feet down the hall before crowing, “It’s happening!” to the others. 

It’s happening?! Mor leapt out from her bedroom, a robe hastily tied around her waist and soap suds clinging to her hair. “Fey—” she hissed.

Feyre pressed a finger up to her lips, cutting her off. They’re in the art studio now. 

I fucking KNEW IT! Mor squealed in delight, stomping her feet soundlessly into the floorboards as she allowed Feyre to grab her wrist and drag her forward. 

I won the bet, Nes.

You didn’t win, we both lost!

Semantics. 

Why you bas—

Feyre, Rhys, Mor, Cassian, and Nesta streamed into the foyer. There was an air vent here that led directly to the art studio two floors above them and painted over so expertly it may as well have been part of the molding. The sounds traveling through it were muffled by echos and distance, but nothing that fae hearing and magic couldn’t overcome. 

“That’s it!” The chair you’d been sitting in skittered back with a squeak. “What is your problem, Azriel? You’ve been agitated for weeks now. You won’t tell me, or any of the others, what’s wrong and every time Cassian so much as glances in your direction you look like you want to tear his throat out!” 

Azriel said nothing as you stomped forward and dragged him into the room, slamming the door shut behind him. Whiskey eyes flickered down to your hand — the hand you currently had closed around his wrist — and he shuddered. 

You didn’t even want to begin to unpack the hidden meaning of that response as you brought him to the center of the room and let go. 

He dropped the shirt on the nearby desk, hands lowering to the hem of your painting smock with a grimace. 

“I need you to take this off.” He repeated with a frown.

“What kind of person marches into a room and demands that their friend take off their shirt?” 

He flinched at that word — friend.

“Az!” Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and his anger. “What is going on with you?!” 

“It’s nothing.” He growled out, but he tugged at the hem like its very existence was a personal offense.

“Clearly it’s not nothing.”

“Can you just take off your shirt and put this one on?”

You shoved him away. It wasn’t even like he was asking you to get naked, you both knew you were wearing something beneath this, but it was the way he was asking that grated on your nerves — like what he was requesting was perfectly normal and you were the ridiculous one for not listening.

“No.” You folded your arms over your chest with a huff. You were just being stubborn now, but you didn’t care. 

His eyes turned tortured and he clasped his hands together in front of you. “Please?” He begged.

“No! Not until you tell me what’s going on and why you’re acting this way!” 

“I don’t want to have this discussion while you’re standing there smelling like another male!”

That was… not what you were expecting.

You gaped at him, unsure whether to howl with laughter, or slap him across the face. 

“That’s what this is about? You’re upset because I’m wearing Cassian’s clothes?” You gagged at the mere thought of what Azriel was insinuating. 

“Well that was a little hurtful.” Cassian mumbled. 

Mor slapped the back of his head. “Shhhhh. I’m trying to listen.”

Azriel shifted on his feet, color beginning to spread high on his cheekbones. “It’s not about Cassian… not really…”

You tapped your foot on the ground, waiting for him to continue. Azriel felt naked. Stripped back like one of your insect specimens lit up beneath a microscope. Your eyes raked over his every movement. Even his shadows, usually so attention-seeking, cowered behind their master’s back whispering to one another about how Azriel might dig himself out of his own grave. 

“Well?” You snapped. 

Azriel shrank back, “I… I like you, Y/n.” 

You rolled your eyes, “I know, that’s why we’re friends. I like you too.”

“No. Not… not like that.” Azriel groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Oh I’m fucking this up so badly it’s not even funny anymore.” 

“I don’t even know what it is you’re fucking up. I—”

“I love you, ok?” He said in a burst of energy.  “I love you and not in the way that friends are meant to love one another and Cassian’s an idiot and I’m a jealous bastard and I… I…” 

You stared back dumbly. “You can’t mean that.” 

Azriel’s face fell. “And why not?”

“Because I have been here for decades, centuries,” you jabbed his chest with a finger, “And you never once looked at me that way. Never once considered me as anything more than a friend. You’re upset because I’ve been wearing Cassian’s clothes the last few weeks? Well guess what, Az, I’ve watched you walk in and out of those doors for years with your poorly concealed hickies and that lovesick look on your face, and I never made it your problem or anyone else’s.” 

“Well I want you to!” He shouted. It was the first and only time you could remember him raising his voice. “I want you to make it my problem, Y/n. I want you to tell me that you love me and I want you to shout at me for all the stupid decisions I’ve made because I’m yours. I’m yours to shout at. I’m yours to get angry with. I’m yours to love if you’ll still have me and…” Azriel gasped for breath, chest heaving as he came face to face with the fact that he’d just said those words out loud. Those words that he’d kept close to his chest with the rest of his secrets. Those words that proved just how completely at your mercy he was. 

Please say you’ll still have me. His eyes begged. 

When you didn’t move or say anything, he felt a piece of his heart wither away. He lowered his eyes, suddenly interested in a speckle of red paint that had smeared under his boot, “Forgive me. I’m… I’m sorry I didn’t… I shouldn’t have—” 

“You’re a fucking idiot, Azriel.” You muttered breathlessly. 

Then you flung yourself into his arms and crashed your lips into his. 

Kissing Azriel was better than you could have ever imagined. The fantasies you’d constructed late in the night when you were lonely blew apart like paper houses, crumbling in the face of reality. His mouth fumbled for purchase against your lips before slotting into place with a strangled moan. He lifted you in the air and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, tightening them until you could feel him harden between your legs. 

His tongue flitted over your lips tasting like oranges and magic. 

But his hands. 

His hands. 

You couldn’t get enough of them as they slid up and down your back, squeezing and pressing into your skin until he’d memorized the curve of your spine. You wove your fingers in his hair, tilting his head so you could stare into his hazel eyes before diving in for another taste. 

He walked you back to the desk, shadows flinging the tins of charcoal and pastel pencils off the furniture so you could perch there instead. Then he surged forward, pressing his hips into the space between your legs so he could feel the heat that gathered there. It sent shivers down his spine.

This… this was everything he’d ever wanted. You were everything he’d ever wanted. Not some unapproachable female he admired from afar but hardly knew, but someone who’d seen every inch of his soul and never flinched. Someone who’d nestled into the hidden corners of his heart and grown there like a willow tree. 

You moved your hands over the wide expanse of his back, digging your nails in to feel every twitch of muscle, every shudder, as he latched onto the side of your neck and slid his tongue over the sensitive skin there. 

He smelled like mountain rain. Like fresh wind and petrichor and sea salt. 

You smelled like lemons and safety. Like maple leaves and lavender and… Cassian.

Because you were still wearing his gods-damned shirt. 

Azriel felt his blood boil, and an instinctual rage took over as he growled low in his throat, bunched the fabric of Cassian’s shirt in his hands, and tore it in two.

You pulled away from him at the sound of ripping fabric, but kept your grip on his solid shoulders as air blew across your skin.

Azriel’s pupils were blown wide, his lips pink and raw as he leaned his forehead against yours in a daze. You continued to breathe each other’s air like you were drowning. He seemed just as in disbelief as you, if not more. 

“Azriel…” You whispered, chest heaving. 

He looked at you with half-lidded eyes full of heat. “... yes, Y/n?” He asked breathlessly.

“I think you ripped through my dress… and my bra as well…” 

“Oh…” He fingered the ruined fabric that fell loose around your shoulders and realized that your back was indeed on full display. The straps of your bra slipped down and the mangled buttons of your sundress clung to their loops by weak threads. “Oh…oh gods.” 

One hand flew up to your chest to keep the fabric in place while the other slapped over your mouth, suffocating the laughter that threatened to burst forth. 

Azriel’s ears and cheeks turned brighter than the sun as he slowly lowered you down to your feet, fumbling over apologies like he hadn’t been shoving his tongue down your throat mere seconds ago. 

“I’m so sorry—” 

“Azriel, it’s ok.” 

“No, I was being an ass and now I’ve ruined your dress and—” 

“You can buy me more.”

Azriel’s shoulder dropped. “I can?” “You can.” 

He shook his head very seriously. “Yes, yes you’re right, I—” Azriel had always been the beautiful one — the one that drew eyes when he walked into a room. The one that had females and males falling out of their seats for a proper look at his elegant features. But right now he looked so helpless, so flustered and unsure of himself that you finally lost it. 

Champagne bubble laughs slipped out of your mouth, light and airy, and sent a shock of warmth through Azriel’s chest. It was infectious the way the skin stretched over your cheeks. The light in your eyes couldn’t be contained no matter how hard you tried. 

He couldn’t help himself. 

He started laughing too. 

What began as one of his reserved chuckles grew into uncontrollable peals of laughter that echoed throughout the studio and had you clutching onto the desk for support. 

Azriel doubled over, one hand holding the stitch in his side together as you howled. 

“Oh gods. I can’t—” You hiccuped. “I-I-I can’t breathe.” 

Soon you were both kneeling on the ground, clutching each other’s arms for some semblance of stability. You gasped for breath, wiping away tears from the corners of your eyes. 

Azriel captured one of your hands, weaving his fingers through yours before bringing your wrist to his lips for a soft, reverent kiss. You thought you’d experienced enough emotions for today ranging from frustration to anger to a joy you couldn’t begin to put into words. But you were certain your heart could handle one more shift in the atmosphere. 

Wordlessly you tugged off Cassian’s shirt, dropping it to the side where shadows caught hold of the cursed fabric and quickly tossed it into the fireplace. The flames crackled with triumph, eating away at the shirt with a vengeance. 

“A little dramatic, don’t you think?” 

“We can agree to disagree.” Azriel murmured, his eyes growing dark and heavy. His gaze drifted down to the soft skin now exposed from your tattered dress, the thin straps clinging to your arms, the gentle swell of your breasts as you breathed heavily. 

His fingers danced over the straps in silent permission, eyes searching yours for any hint of hesitation. But you were open and wanting and desperate for his touch. You crawled into his lap and a faint nod was all he needed before the pale blue fabric of your dress fell down and bunched about your waist. The bra followed, and then you were sitting there naked from the waist up, feeling the heat grow between your bodies as Azriel looked at you with pure adoration in his eyes. 

“Am I dreaming, Y/n?” He whispered, rubbing circles into your hip bones. 

You smiled softly, “Have you dreamed of me before?”

“Yes. Many times.” He kissed your chest, slowly dragging his hands down your ribs as you shivered and fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, and then his belt buckle. “But we never got this far.” 

“Hmmmm, I think we could go a little further.” 

“NOT IN MY STUDIO!” Feyre’s voice echoed oddly through the room, sounding muffled and far away. 

Azriel’s wings flared out, hiding you from view as you yelped and pressed your chest against his. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment about being found in such a compromising position. But the door was closed! And so were the windows!

His shadows finally found the culprit in the air vent.

“Godsdamnit—HAVE YOU BEEN LISTENING THE ENTIRE TIME?!” Azriel shouted. 

A moment passed before Feyre answered, “... No,” in a much softer tone. 

“We missed part of the beginning,” Cassian chimed in. 

Azriel groaned, dropping his forehead against your shoulder as you were stunned into silence. He muttered something beneath his breath that sounded oddly similar to, “I swear I’m going to kill him one day.”

Azriel helped you to your feet and finally, you put on his shirt. 

“Are you happy now?” You teased, arms dropping to your sides. 

The corner of his lip twitched upwards. You looked… very good in his clothes with the sleeves rolled up and a sliver of your dress (now skirt) peeking out from beneath. 

He looked towards the vent, then wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close so he could whisper, “I would be happier if I saw my shirt and that dress of yours on the floor of my bedroom.” 

His hand slid up your skirt, squeezing the back of your thighs in a way that had you stiffening. 

All at once he was second-guessing himself. Maybe he’d taken things too far. Maybe the lust-filled haze had cleared and you didn’t want him anymore. 

You swallowed and wrapped your hand around his wrist, gently guiding his fingers to your core. You let him know just how much you wanted this. 

A roar of blood sounded in the Shadowsinger’s ears. 

“I think that sounds like a very good plan.” You murmured in agreement and his eyes turned black as night.

He stole another long kiss before scooping you into his arms. 

“Az, where are we going?” You giggled into the curve of his throat as he flew down the hallway and stairs. “We just passed your bedroom.” 

“We’re not going to my bedroom.”

“Well we missed my bedroom too.” 

He didn’t respond.

Azriel skidded to a stop at the top of the staircase, already well aware that his family had gathered at the bottom and were waiting to bombard him with questions. 

Azriel smirked at you, leaned down, and kissed your cheek. “When I take you to bed properly, it won’t be with our nosey family members in the house.” He ran his tongue across the line of your jaw all the way to your earlobe and whispered, “I want any noises you make to be for me, and me alone.” 

“You are certainly a man of poetry, Az.”

He smiled. “Only for you.” 

“Well, well, well if it isn’t the two love—” Shadows flew into his mouth, muffling his words. “HEH! Azz! Whazthf—”

“I’ll see you in a week.” He said to no one in particular, his shadows opening the door of the River House. 

“Where are you going?” Mor asked, her eyes zeroing in on the bright red mark blossoming on your neck. What the fuck? She mouthed at you, giving you two thumbs up as Azriel crossed the doorway with you in his arms.

“None of your business. I’ll see you in a week.” Then he looked down at you, eyes growing soft. “We’ll see you in a week,” he corrected himself. 

Your stomach bottomed out, heat flowing through your body as you heard him make such a declaration in front of... well everyone. You couldn't wait to see where he would take you and where he would take you.

"Ready?" Azriel asked, a sultry smile growing on his face.

"Ready."

You wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face in the hollow of his throat as he took off into the air. 

[sturn-saturn]

the diamond lab

pairing: fem!reader x bf!chris

warnings: tears, mentions of pregnancy, happy happy, not proofread!

a/n: ok so this is the last part but if this series does good i'll continue it and write about the wedding

part 1 part 2

word count: 1,274

chris grabs the bag with the ring carefully placed in the box and you all wave goodbye and step out the shop.

"well, this is where it all begins big guy." flora says patting chris' back.

a few days passed since flora, chris, and matt paid a little visit to 'the diamond lab,' but you have been a little suspicious of every little thing lately, chris seems off, you're worried you did something wrong.

you had no idea what was happening but you're all on vacation and you didn't want your overthinking to get in the way of having fun with your favorite people.

you and chris are currently lying in bed. in each others hold, your absolute favorite place to be.

"chris?"

"hm?"

"are you alright?"

"y-yeah. i'm all good, sweetheart. especially when i have the most amazing woman by my side."

"you're so sweet." you pat his chest.

"you're sweeter." he kisses you gently but deeply. "you taste sweeter too."

you giggle into the kiss relishing in the moment.

"i have a fun day planned for all of us tomorrow, why don't we get some sleep."

"ouu what is it? tell me." you beg.

"that is for me to know and for you to find out." he says booping your nose with his finger.

you both drift into sleep holding each other close, not knowing your whole life is going to change tomorrow.

the next evening...

"alright so, for this place we're going to on the beach tonight, all the girls are wearing white and all the guys are wearing black." chris says smiling.

"huh? why? does this place have a dress code?"

"yeah, something like that. finish up your makeup, we should be leaving in 30 minutes."'

"yes sir!" you say saluting to him.

"you're an idiot."

"your idiot." you smile.

you finally finish your hair, makeup, and you got dressed into this white dress and chris walks out of the bathroom wearing this black outfit.

"oh, chris. you look so handsome." you say adjusting his collar and staring into his beautiful blue eyes.

"oh yeah? look at you. you look like the woman of my dreams. you are the woman of my dreams."

you place you hand behind his head and gently guide his lips to yours.

"i love you."

"i love you more, princess. now, are you ready for dinner? the other said they're running late cause they were tired from the club last night but they'll meet us after dinner by the beach."

"club? did flora go? is she alright? ugh that girl. she should be resting!"

"flora is fine, her and matt didn't stay long before she got a headache." chris laughs at your concern for your best friend as he guides you out the hotel room.

to no surprise, chris made a reservation for dinner, one of your favorite places here in aruba.

"chris, thank you for this. thank you for everything."

"no need to thank me, darling. you're my girlfriend, i love you, and i would do anything for you."

you grab his hand across the table and you rub the back of his hand with your thumb.

"excuse me! could we get the check please?" you ask the waiter.

"yes ma'am." he responds.

you begin to take out your wallet to pay for the delicious dinner you both just shared.

"what are you doing?" he chuckles.

"paying for dinner?"

"pay for dinner? baby, don't be ridiculous. put that away. i got it."

"chris, you always pay let me do something for you."

"you do more than enough for me. i'm paying."

"fine." you smile appreciatively putting your wallet back into your purse.

chris finishes paying for your dinner and you both head to the beach for a little walk.

"wait, y/n. the sunset looks beautiful right now, turn around facing the sun, i want to take a picture of you."

"okay." you giggle. you have your back facing chris and he snaps a few pictures.

"perfect."

"can i see now?" you ask.

"of course."

"alright let's see how you d-did." you turn around to something you couldn't believe.

"c-chris. what are you doing."

chris is on one knee, holding the ring of your dreams, your friends are behind him, holding in tears, and capturing a moment you will never forget.

"y/n. almost 4 years ago you changed something in me. i went from thinking i'll never be loved to seeing my future flash before my eyes. from the moment i saw you, the moment you spoke, i knew you were the one i'm supposed to be with. you showed me what it was like to be loved. really loved. i adore your smile, the way you hide your face in your hands when you laugh. i love the way you love me. i would walk to the edge of the earth if it meant i got to spend every moment with you for the rest of my life because there is no one else i would rather do life with. i want to have our own little family, i want to grow old with you. before i met you forever seemed terrifying, you taught me that forever isn't scary when it's with the right person. you're my person. will you marry me?"

at this moment tara is sobbing and holding jakes hand while johnnie rubs her back, matt has his arm around flora as she's tearing up, larray and nick are smiling big, and sam and colby are being the usual guys they are screaming, "SAY YES! SAY YES!"

"well, y/n? what do you say?"

"YES! A MILLION TIMES YES!" you yell hugging chris tightly.

"alright, let's get this ring on you, honey." he giggles.

you feel someone tap your shoulder and you turn around to see some very, very, familiar faces.

"MOM! DAD!" you cry into their arms.

"hi, sweetie!"

"you guys came!? when did you get here? how are you here?"

"chris told us all the plan and we flew out here last night. we wouldn't miss this moment for the world."

"we wouldn't either!" you hear someone say.

"JIMMY! MARYLOU! JUSTIN YOU'RE HERE TOO!?

"of course we are!" he says pulling you into a hug.

"wait no ones wearing black or white."

"yeah chris tricked you into wearing white." flora laughed.

"he's very sneaky, huh?" you laugh as you look up at him as he has his arm around your shoulder. "wait a minute, you're not pregnant are you? chris did you lie about that too, you doofus."

"yeah, sorry ba-"

"actually, one more piece of good news, flora wasn't feeling too good yesterday. we got a test and turns out, we're gonna have a little sturniolo running around in about 8 months." matt smiles kissing the top of floras head.

"OH MY GOD!?!?" you scream out hugging flora.

"damn matty poo got busy, huh?" larray says

everyone cheers for your engagement and your best friend becoming a new mother.

"a daughter in law and a grandchild. what more could i ask for?" marylou smiles hugging both you and flora congratulating you.

"y/n." flora says pulling you aside.

"what's up?"

"our dream of you being my baby's aunt is finally coming true. i remember us in our dorm room saying that you'll be my kids aunt and i'll be your kids aunt. and now it's really happening."

"and i wouldn't have it any other way." you pull flora into a warm hug. "you're going to be the best mother."

"you're going to be the best wife."

you both walk hand in hand and join your friends and family to celebrate the wondrous evening filled with love, hope, and happiness.

[kuamiru]

The Golden Child Part II

SAGAU & Impostor AU where the reader is the child of the actual creator.

Warnings: blood, panic attack, mention of suicide.

If you haven't read part 1 yet, you can find it here.

Humidity felt awful. The tall and wet grass gave an uncomfortable sensation every time you walked another step. The tall trees blocked your vision; it was impossible to see what lay beyond the forest. The flora and fauna were drastically different from what you knew in Liyue; no matter how hard you tried, you could not recognize a single animal or plant.

Your eyes were focused on the road ahead, simply watching the dirt below your feet as your mind wandered about the events that led you to this situation. You no longer had any tears to cry, you spent the first hour of your walk weeping and mourning for the life that you lost.

Now, you could only move forward.

The sun that once stood on top of the sky was starting to slowly disappear into the horizon. It wouldn't be long before night arrived, and you had yet to find some sort of civilization to ask for help.

Strange noises managed to snap you out of your thoughts. As you weren't paying attention to your surroundings, you failed to notice three strange persons standing right in front of you, blocking your path. Two buff and strong men and a tall, slim woman looked down at you menacingly. As they bore similar clothes colored red and gold, it was safe to assume that they all were in the same group or clan of some sorts.

You immediately stopped walking and moved your backpack to the front to hug it in your chest as a way to both have a false sense of security and an easier access to the dagger hidden inside.

"So is this it? The shrimp we were tasked to retrieve?" The woman asked as she crossed her arms. You could not see her eyes as they were covered by a red cloth, but it was evident she was raising a brow.

"Watch your mouth." One of the men spoke. "Remember what we were told: safely secure the child and not do anything that could upset them."

So, were these strangers planning to take you? Did they have any connections to that archon that fought your dad? Was that why they were there, to bring you back to Liyue?

Impulsed by your fear, you took one step backward.

The other man seemed to notice this, for he approached you in just one big step. He crouched to look at you in the eyes in an attempt to look less intimidating. It didn't quite work as planned as you just flinched. "Hey it's okay, little one. We won't hurt you. We are here to take you to Lord Sang—"

"Stop right there!"

The man was interrupted by an arrow impacting right in front of his feet, surprising him and making him stand up in alarm. The other two were also alerted and readied their weapons; a bow and two swords were in hand to fight whoever was attacking them.

A young boy descended from the tree on top of you. He landed unscathed in front of you, between the man that previously approached you and your smaller form. His fox-like tail was tense behind him, simulating that of the wild animals when they were alert, ready to strike. His long and fluffy ears twitched at every sound his enemies made, taking advantage of his animal blood to have the advantage on this situation.

"I didn't know Eremites would step so low as to corner a lonely child in the forest." He said, drawing his bow and aiming it at the stranger in front of him. "I'll give you this chance to leave. If you do not, I won't hesitate to throw you out by force."

The group looked at each other. However, none of them put down their weapon.

"Sorry, little forest watcher. We have a job to do." The woman warned.

"We advise you to step aside." The man with the swords said.

Those comments enraged the newcomer. From his point of view, these Eremites were picking on a kid just to rob them. Maybe even something worse.

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

Before you had any time to react, both the fox boy and the three mercenaries started to attack each other. Arrows and strikes started to flow from everywhere, making you crawl to safety behind the thickest tree around. You closed your eyes tightly and covered your ears with your hands. The sound of fighting reminded you of what transpired earlier in The Chasm... It was just like that time when your father and that archon exchanged blows, one determined to get to you and the other to protect you.

It was just the same.

The clashing didn't stop. Your heartbeat increased with each parry that resonated behind your hiding spot. Soon, all you could hear was the thump of your heart hitting your ears, the fight long forgotten as you could not even remember it was happening thanks to the desperation you were starting to feel. Your breathing got out of control, and your chest soon started to hurt, too. If felt as if your heart wanted to devour your whole body and you could do nothing to stop it—

"Breathe, kid. I need you to take a deep inhale and hold your breath for a second before exhaling. Inhale, exhale."

You didn't know who was talking in front of you, their muffled voice barely reached you through the loud thumping in your chest and ears. They repeated the same words over and over again, and soon you started to obey them in hopes of stop hurting. Inhaling, exhaling. It took a few tries, but your breathing soon became more and more stabilized, and your heart wasn't so loud anymore.

The person crouching in front of you breathed a sigh of relief, and you didn't even know you were crying until they wiped a tear escaping from your left eye. Now that you were calmer, you noticed that your vision was also blurry, however, it was also getting better.

"There now, you're alright." The boy in front of you said. His silhouette was now familiar as you recognized the fox-like features in his body. "Feel any better?"

You nodded rather uncertainly. You still felt agitated, but it was certainly better than a minute ago.

"That's good." He smiled. "You're safe now, okay? Those Eremites can't hurt you now."

He took your little arms in his hands and made you release the backpack you were still clinging to. As you let it go, you noticed how red and swollen your hand and fingers were. It seemed that you were grabbing it with too much force.

"I'm sure this was frightening to such a young kid like you... Judging by the way you dress, I assume you're from Liyue, am I wrong?"

You shook your head 'no'. He smiled, content by your response.

"And what about your parents? Are you all merchants? That's why those mercenaries attacked you here in the forest?"

You knew he didn't have any bad intentions and was just asking in hopes of helping you, but it didn't make it hurt any less the mention of your parents. You raised your knees to your chest and hid your face in them. The boy visibly saddened thanks to your action. In his eyes, those Eremites attacked your family in hopes of robbing you and ended up killing your parents when they struggled. He couldn't think of anything else.

"It's okay little one, it's okay now..." He sat beside you and surrounded your shoulders with his left arm. This helped him bring you closer to his body, using his fluffy tail to bring some comfort by gently caressing your back. "You're safe."

The tickling feeling of the hair of his tail going up and down your back brought a positive reaction out of you. It made you involuntarily laugh, and he seemed pleased by this.

"How about you tell me your name, hm?" His kind eyes complemented his soothing smile. You shyly offered your name, and he seemed to shine brightly at the achievement of finally hearing your voice. "That's an absolutely beautiful name! Mine's Tighnari, though I fear it pales in comparison to yours."

You giggled at his words. "But I like your name. It's pretty."

Tighnari ruffled your hair with a laugh. "Well thank you, little one. That's very kind of you."

You were now relaxed, you even had a small smile on your face. This was the perfect opportunity to exit the forest and return to Gandharva Ville; he would think of what to do next once he got you to safety.

He stood up and extended his hand in your direction, helping you stand up once you took it in your smaller hand.

"We'll go to the ville I live, okay? Once we're there, you can get comfortable and tell me everything that happened." He promised. You nodded once more, and, still hugging your backpack with your free arm, you let the young archer guide you through the forest. He started to walk in the opposite direction of where the fight happened, but curiosity got the better of you and turned your head briefly to see what was left of the fight. You barely got to see the three unconscious bodies before the trees blocked your vision.

.

You were sure you would never be able to see such settlements back in Liyue.

The large trunk of a tree was the base of a little ville hidden in the middle of the forest. The place was filled with forest rangers patrolling the nearby areas, all of them greeting Tighnari once you both appeared right at the entrance.

Being around so many strangers filled you with uneasiness, so naturally, you clung to the only person you knew. Tighnari didn't seem to mind; in fact, it was as if the hold gave him a new surge of energy, for he increased the speed of his walking and returned every greeting with excitement. He even took this opportunity to wrap his tail around your torso.

The road ended in front of a wooden cabin. You stared at it for a moment, thinking about your current situation. Was this okay? This boy certainly promised to help you, he even rescued you from that scary people back in the forest. 'Don't enter a stranger's house' your parent would always tell you...

But did you have any other option right now?

Tighnare looked back at you and offered a gentle smile. "It's okay, I'm with you."

He gently tugged your arm, and you started walking again. You both entered the tiny house, surprised to see a girl already inside, seemingly writing in a notebook while sitting on the desk.

"Collei, I'm back." Tighnari said, and the girl turned to face him once she heard his voice. The big smile on her face quickly morphed into a semblance of pure confusion.

"Oh, who is this?" Collei approached you, kneeling in front of you before offering you a small smile. "Hello little one! My name is Collei. You are not from around here, are you?"

You instinctively hid behind Tighnari. He laughed. "No, they are not. I fear their family might have been a victim of Eremites."

"But I thought Eremites were just mercenaries? Did someone hire them to attack their family?"

He shrugged. He really didn't have a clue. If this child's parents were wealthy or renowned merchants then it would make sense for someone to have a grudge on them.

You slowly revealed yourself from behind the boy. This girl seemed friendly enough.

"Hi Collei." You offered. "Nice to meet you."

Collei gasped. This child was so cute! And so polite, too. She couldn't fight the impulse of hugging you, in just a second you were scooped into her arms and away from the archer, a meter above the ground.

For Tighnari, that small action made him feel like his world was crumbling... Suddenly he felt alone, suffocated, overwhelmed by anguish. The moment he stopped touching the child he swore he could sense his heart breaking in a million pieces.

No, no!

He didn't even realize what he had done until he heard Collei say his name and the pained whimpers of the child. He was grabbing your small arm rather roughly, for he could see the redness of the skin below his hand. Collei was doing her best in trying not to drop you, as he was trying to bring you closer to him not really caring that you were in the arms of another person.

"Ah! Sorry, sorry...!" He excused himself quickly. He let go of you, and guilt was born in his heart when he saw how you gently rubbed the area where he held you.

Collei was staring at him with a worried expression, but Tighnari didn't really care. He looked at the hand that was used to grab you.

He was certain he didn't imagine it. Every second he touched your small frame... he felt full of life, vigor, energy. A newfound euphoria that made him believe he could achieve anything in this world. He could think of the happiest day in his life and how he felt then would never come close to the way you made him feel.

He raised his eyes and his heart dropped when he found yours full of tears. Oh, this was bad! Please, please don't cry! He'd rather kill himself before being the cause of your weeping—

He was just about to drop to the floor and apologize when a forest ranger entered the cabin in a hurry. She was out of breath, as if she had been running from the edge of the forest to here without taking a break.

"Tighnari, we- we have problems!" She said as best as she could. "Eremites! A group of Eremites is attacking Gandharva Ville ad nauseam!"

"What?!" Both Tighnari and Collei exclaimed. They exchanged a glance between each other, a silent form of communication that only they could understand.

"They're here for them..." He gritted his teeth. What could possibly a group of mercenaries want with a little kid?! Even worse, behind them was a mysterious employer... Someone who was adamant about taking this child. Just the thought of it made his blood boil. "Stay here with them! I'll kill those damn Eremites for trying to harm this one!"

The rage in his voice made the girl give a step backward in shock. She has never seen her friend that angry before... no, he wasn't angry; he was furious.

He wasted no second in summoning his bow and following the fellow forest ranger in the fight outside.

Had you heard right? Were the people from the forest back for you? Ah, the thought of it made you feel sick... What did they even want from you? Could they've been sent from those archons to capture you? Was taking the lives of your papa and tata not enough?

You started to move in Collei's arms, demanding to be put down. She obliged your silent request and carefully let you go from her arms. However, the moment she let go, it felt as if someone tore her heart from her chest and crushed it before her eyes. No way, could this be what Tighnari experienced and made him react that way?

She summoned her bow and shouted your name when she saw you run outside to see what was happening.

The entire ville was replete of Eremites clashing weapons with forest rangers and even some forest watchers. The few civilians that lived there tried to escape through secret passages or deserted places, just to be stopped and apprehended by the invaders.

Collei barely had any time to reach you to pull you inside when an Eremite spotted you two. "There! I see the child!"

Tighnari snapped his head from where he was fighting to look at you, every hair of his body standing up with the rage he was feeling. "DON'T YOU DARE!!" He shouted before firing an arrow at his opponent, piercing their stomach without effort. He needed to get to them, he couldn't let these damn Eremites steal you and take with them all the euphoria and joy he felt.

As he started to hop on the stairs to stop a man that was rushing to the cabin, he failed to notice a woman pointing her own bow and arrow right at him. And just as he was about to grab the man, a sharp pain made him stumble and fall as he clutched his side. Crimson flowed from the wound the arrow had made. Fuck, he would need medical help soon.

He shouted your name, trying to see your small from where he was lying. This proved to be futile as the woman who had shot him moved to stand in front of him, between him and the cabin.

Collei managed to pull you back inside just as the man appeared on the entrance. The girl stood protectively in front of you, having drawn her bow as a way to defend both of you. The Eremite, however, didn't move to attack her. He approached you both and didn't seem to be intimidated even when Collei's arrow was pointing at his head.

"You." He said, looking right at you. "We've come for you."

"You'll have to get through me first." Collei warned.

"Oh, please." The man laughed. "We have orders not to kill anybody, but we certainly can use force to take them with us."

She didn't know what to do. This man seemed way stronger than her. Could she even defeat him in a fight?

"Wait, don't- don't hurt her!" You exclaimed behind her form. You clung onto her scarf tightly, terrified of the situation you were in. You could not let any more people be hurt to protect you! You had to be strong; your father and your parent would've wanted you to be brave. "Please stop attacking the ville, they have nothing to do with me..."

"Certainly. If you come with us we can end this without hurting anyone else. What do you say?"

Collei refused fiercely, but you didn't share her thoughts. You nodded and slowly separated from her body to approach the waiting man. This sent Collei in a panic. She tried to grab you by the neck but was promptly stopped by the handle of a polearm hitting her stomach. She instinctively grabbed the area as she fell to the floor, the impact having made her lose her breath.

"Ah, Collei!" You tried to go to her to see if she was okay, but the man managed to pick you up from your clothes and throw you in his shoulder.

"Worry not, little one. We didn't hurt anyone severely. Now let's go, Lord Sangemah Bay is waiting for you."

Wait, Lord Sangemah Bay? That was the person your father wanted you to find. So these people were sent by them to retrieve you? Had you known beforehand, you would've gone with them back in the forest. Without having to hurt anyone here.

The man brought you outside and whistled. The remaining Eremited heed his call and promptly evacuated the ville, the wounded helped by the stronger members.

The man also took off with you still secured in his shoulder, and you barely could hear the shouts of your name coming from the ville as you got farther and farther away.

——————————

Hello! This is a taglist. Should you wish for me to add or remove you, you can ask for it.

Due to the overwhelming support you've given me, I fear I might have forgotten some people who kindly asked to be tagged. If you do not find yourself here, please do tell me. I've saved every username but there's a possibility that I've missed yours when I made the list.

However, I don't know why I can't tag some blogs. I hope this reaches you well.

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[luveline]

maybe for zombie Steve au, there’s some sort of emergency at the college so there’s like a lockdown ish but Steve & reader get split up & then have an emotional reunion? 🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

thank you so much for your request! I took a smide of inspo from scenes of twd (specifically when the prison fence gets it shit rocked) steve zombie!au ♥︎ fem!reader 5k words

"And you…" You pause, tongue sticking out as you struggle to tuck your shirt into your jeans. "You smoked?" 

Steve laughs where he's shrugging into his own jeans. You're both very late. 

"Everyone smoked junior year." 

"I didn't." 

"No, of course you didn't," he says, laughing more. It's a nice sound to hear so early in the morning. You can almost pretend you're well-rested. 

"I didn't," you say emphatically, leaning against the wall by the door to slip on your sneakers. 

It doesn't matter if you're telling the truth, Steve clearly doesn't believe you. He mirrors your actions and puts on his own pair of sneakers. They were white, once upon a time, but now they're a gritty grey. You stand tall in unison and pull open the door.

"Wait," Steve says. 

He brushes your hair out of your face, looking over each of your features casually before his fingers dip down to your belt. You startle on instinct, though he's only fixing the mess you'd made of your tucked shirt. His fingers push under your belt methodically, efficiently. In less than a minute he's done. 

Neither of you bother with a jacket. Steve pockets the keys and the door locks behind you, the two of you half jogging out of Little Hawkins to the front of the building. 

"I'll be at the north fence all day, okay, so if you need me, come and find me. You're–" 

"In the pantry where I always am," you say, "and I'll be fine, so you don't let anything bite you and I'll see you at dinner." 

"Wait, wait, wait," Steve says, catching your wrist before you can part ways. 

He pulls you in by the arm until he can grab your shoulders. He does altogether too much looking, eyes raking over your face, your neck. He meets your eyes, cups your cheek in both hands. 

"I love you," he says quickly, "I love you," —he kisses you wonky, lips way too close to your nose, "I love you. See you at dinner." 

He's sick in the head. He doesn't give you any time to answer or bestow the heaping of affection he deserves, simply splits and power walks away from you.

You sigh, wringing your hands together. "Steve! I– I love you too!" 

He turns around, his smile ridiculously big, and waves at you. You wave back. 

He races out of view. You try not to make eye contact with the people milling around outside of the dorm building and pick up the pace, running down the street to the cafeteria building. 

The town hall is alive in the mornings, and class is in session, more kids than you'd ever expected to see again in your lifetime all bundled up in one room. You think it's nice, the way they teach them here. They don't bother with algebra or arithmetic, though Sammy the 'teacher' offers tutoring to anybody who wants it, they just draw and play and talk about emotional wellbeing. Sometimes there are survival classes, but they don't really talk about geeks. They show the kids what wild flora is edible, or how to wrap a cut. You think it's probably more for routine than actual teaching. 

"Hi, Sammy," you say. 

She smiles, and you're horrified as she says, "Hi, baby. Class, say good morning." 

All the kids say good morning to you. You flush with heat from top to bottom. Their cute little faces beaming up at you is an instant disarming. 

"Hi, kids," you say, waving. 

Hands holding crayons and pencils wave back at you. 

You make your way into the kitchen, which is a huge industrial affair connected to an otherwise small cafeteria. Maybelle and Pauline are already inside cleaning up the leftover breakfast and preparing for community dinner. 

Breakfast is specifically for the people inside the community who can't manage to make it themselves, the disabled, the injured, the elderly, but dinner is for everybody. 

"Sorry I'm late," you say. 

"Hun, we don't care," Maybelle says. 

"Did you want breakfast?" Pauline asks. "I'm gonna wrap this up otherwise. Somebody's gonna eat it."  

It sounds like a threat. You take some of the breakfast they've set aside, which isn't a breakfast food at all, just boxed mac and cheese that tastes slightly stale. You barely notice it anymore, though the texture gives you the heebies. 

You move into the pantry and check everything still there, the easiest and most useless part of your job. Then, Maybelle and Pauline try to put together a meal that's both cost effective (the cost being the energy expended to retrieve the food, and the likelihood that this food will be seen again) and not disgusting. Oftentimes they have to make a bunch of different stuff that doesn't go together, but it's better than nothing. You like this a whole lot more than if they just gave everybody a can a day and said there's your lot. 

You mark down the things they've taken. You mark down things you might need in Hopper's next supply rub. It's a super cushy job, the kind that isn't strictly necessary, but there are a lot of people in the community and the majority are willing to do what needs to be done. They ran out of jobs quickly, and you're sure Hopper had felt a little sorry for you, so here you are. You're not like Steve. You're not a survivor. You're lucky. 

You sit down after a while, no use pretending you have anything left to do, left side pressed to the side of the industrial oven. 

"You know, we used to live in Mississippi?" Pauline asks you. 

"What?" you ask. 

"Mm-hm, we were only in Michigan for vacation, if you can believe it. We had a good time." 

"Before, the uh, the apocalypse," Maybelle says with a tittering laugh. "We were hiking in the Porcupine Mountains when some dude tried to bite me. We thought he had rabies." 

The room smells like jarred pasta bake, a rich, garlic-thick smell that threatens to make your eyes droop. In the cafeteria, through the open shutters, you can hear the kids singing. Sammy hates nursery rhymes, so they learn the words of old songs by Louis Armstrong. Today, they're a discordant, too fast chorus of What a Wonderful World. It's a racket.  

But no matter how loud the kids sings, they can't cover the reverberations of a gunshot. 

A hush falls in the kitchen.

You stand up. You aren't panicked, exactly. More like you've stepped into a heavy overcoat, trepidation a weight that settles like a second skin. You move to stand by the sink with Maybelle. She pushes it open, and the three of you stare outside. 

Trees rustle in the wind. The kids descend into giggles as Matthew, one of the rare teenagers who deigns to join in, busts out a Louis Armstrong impression, his voice deep and bending. The oven hums. 

The second gunshot sounds. After that, you can't count them. 

Maybelle slams the window closed and twists the handle down to lock it. 

Your heart beats. None of you know what to say. Your pulse bumps, and bumps, and bumps. 

"Lock the doors," Maybelle says. "Lock the windows. Just in case." 

Gunfire comes fast and ferocious as a sudden downpour, popping in the near distance. Your footsteps clip over the linoleum floor, firm rubber soles like an elastic band as you bound into the cafeteria and meet Sammy's eyes. 

The kids are perturbingly quiet. 

"I'm gonna lock the doors," you say tentatively. 

Dread fills her face. "Okay. Alright." 

You fizz around the room, locking the front and side entrances one after another. You're thinking so many things at once that you can't seem to focus on any, and instead your attention is drawn to the inconsequential. How cold the metal on the door's emergency push bars are. The colouring books on the floor. 

You're standing in front of the last door with shaking hands as it gets thrown open. You gasp and scrabble backwards, hands in front of your chest to protect yourself. 

It's Joyce. Breathless, red in the face Joyce. 

"Lock the kids in the kitchen," she says. "The north fence has a leak. They're getting in." 

—

Steve is not having the good day he thought he'd be getting. 

You'd been exceptionally pretty this morning, tired eyed and disorientated but adorable through and through. You and Steve have fallen into a routine, and you talk so much it's a surprise your throats aren't sore. There's so much to say and never enough time to say it; you've taken to trading stories in the morning while you get dressed. Today was Steve's turn. He'd told you all about his birthday party during junior year, how his dad had almost killed him because somebody left a hole in the wall, and how he still can't eat Dunkin' Donuts without feeling queasy. You'd asked him when the last time he actually got to eat a donut was, and it hadn't been sad, like you might expect. 

He'd said, "I don't need any extra sweetness, are you kidding? Got all my sugar right here." 

You'd laughed at him (not with him) and nearly choked on toothpaste. 

That's a perfect morning for Steve. That's as good as they get. It might be silly, but he'd felt damn good, and foolishly tricked himself into thinking the rest of the day might be similarly great. 

"You're a fool, Harrington," he mutters to himself. 

"What was that?" 

Steve looks up. Jonathan and Christopher are staring at him. 

"He's going crazy," Christopher says. "Best take him out to the back shed." 

"Funny." Steve kicks the dirt in front of him. "So bored I'm talking to myself," he admits. 

"It could be worse," Jonathan says. "We could be on latrine duty." 

Steve would rather not think about latrine duty. God bless the communal bathroom in Little Hawkins. 

The day is breezy but surprisingly warm, not a cloud in the sky. The sun bears down and heats Steve's skin in waves. He likely should've stopped for his jacket this morning, but he'd been super late. He doesn't want a citation. Another citation. 

This is the slowest day they've ever seen on fence duty. Usually the general hubbub of the community catches the attention of a handful of geeks, and fence duty stabs them through the brain with lethally modified crowbars. It's gross, but it's necessary. It keeps you safe. Yet today they haven't seen a single undead. 

"Maybe they're dying," Christopher says. 

"They're already dead," Jonathan says. 

"How do you know? You felt for a pulse?" 

"They decompose," Jonathan says, laughing softly. "They're corpses." 

"I'm just saying." Christopher shrugs. 

Steve ignores them both without malice, staring through the section of chain link fence he's standing in front of and out into the streets. The north side of The College faces the surrounding town. From here, he can see a pharmacist's building, a sandwich shop, and a small veterinary clinic. Shells of cars long dismantled line the road. Natural works to reclaim them slowly, tires threaded with long grass. A few days ago, a deer ran straight up to the fence and stared at him. He promised you he'd come and find you next time, even though you hadn't really minded. He wants you to see it. There's more out there than just geeks and bad people. 

He shivers and fiddles with the holster on his hip, checking for the tenth time in as many minutes that the gun held within has the safety mechanism on. He really doesn't wanna shoot himself in the foot. That would majorly suck, though, he thinks, you'd look after him. That might make it worth it. 

Not that he'd shoot himself in the foot for your attention, that would be totally backwards. But he thinks you'd look cute as a nurse, with the little hat— 

"Do you hear that?" Jonathan asks. 

Steve pulls away from his questionable thoughts and turns to see his kind of friend. Jonathan stands with his nose to the fence, straight brown hair curling at the bottom of his neck. He needs a trim, but who is Steve to judge? 

"Hear what?" Steve asks. 

Though you can see the town through the gaps, the fences are blanketed by trees. Old trees with thick trunks, the kind that protesters would chain themselves to if the government ever suggested cutting them down. The ground around them is more dirt than grass, like the packed earth under the fence and Steve's shoes.

He assumes Jonathan's talking about the creaking of a thousand branches in the wind. Brown and orange leaves fall in droves, crinkly and scratchy as they litter the floor. 

"I can't hear anything," Steve says. 

"It sounds like a car engine," Jonathan says. 

Steve cannot agree. Now that the world is silent, car engines sound like jet planes. They shake the ground. There are no vibrations to be felt, but… there is something. 

"I'm gonna walk the perimeter," Steve says. A creeping unease takes shape over his shoulders like the winding suffocation of a python. He can feel the pressure of it against his throat. 

It's nothing, he thinks to himself. 

Sections of street flash between the trees. Tree, empty street. Tree, empty street. Each tree blocks the sun, and goosebumps erupt over his skin, the hairs on his arms standing up with each footstep into the dimness. Steve pulls his crowbar close to his chest. 

I'm paranoid, he promises himself, even as the strange sound Jonathan had heard begins to rise. He knows what it is, he knows, but he doesn't want to know. The wet suck of meat being pulled off the bone, and the dry rattle of lungs that won't fill. He lets the sun kiss his cold face for a moment, and then he stops behind the cover of a huge sycamore tree and leans, carefully, slowly, to the left. 

The sun hasn't warmed the sparse grass. Each blade is frosted into spikes. The leaf litter has turned to mulch, disturbed and churned by the body splayed open atop it. Blood emulsifies the dirt, a black mud that covers the hands, arms, knees, and mouths of a sizable herd. 

Steve flinches backward, covers his nose to shield himself from the stink, and swiftly presses stiff fingers over his mouth to stop himself chucking up. 

There must be fifty or more geeks huddled there, fighting for scraps of ligament, falling over chunks of inedible veel.

Steve wants to retreat quietly. His hands have other ideas. 

He drops the crowbar, fumbling for it with every centimetre it falls, and ends up knocking it a couple feet away with a horrified gasp. 

The fences are hammered into the ground so they can't be moved, but there aren't many fence posts between sections. Flimsy chain link is all that separates Steve and the herd. 

They look up. They start to move. 

Hands reach for him, hands force themselves through the holes of the fence, skin peeling back over muscle like the delicate rind of a pear. He watches in horror as the herd congregates, as the herd leans its collective weight against what's basically chicken wire, as dessicated flesh shaves off of their dead bodies, as the fence begins to bend. 

The geeks use each other like ladder, pulling and climbing, heaped like jenga tiles until a gnarled hand closes over the top of the fence. 

He wants to run. He needs to stay. He needs to separate them, he needs to thin the weight. He scrambles to take up his crowbar again, taking a step forward, but the tattle tale sound of metal scratching against metal squeals in his ear, and he leaps backward as the fence tips forward.

He should scream. 

He trips as he grabs the crowbar, palm aching as it smashes into the ground. He barely touches the floor, pushing himself back up and using his momentum to sprint toward the rendezvous point. 

"Jonathan!" he shouts, his voice strained. "They're over the fence. Section twenty one is coming down!" The fence has already come down, but Steve isn't thinking straight. 

Jonathan barely looks at Steve. He only needs one glance before he's looking past him. Steve looks back, too, and then he keeps on sprinting.

Jonathan unholsters his gun. Christopher does the same. 

Behind Steve, across the stretch of the college campus, a wave of geeks snap their gored maws. Steve runs harder than he's ever ran before, faster than he's ever moved, even faster than that night in the woods with you, scroungers on your tail, laughing and cussing, their flashlights shining at your heels like the beam of a prison guardhouse. 

Steve vaults himself over an overgrown hedge and right into the centre of the campus. There aren't many people out, but any at all is too many. 

"Get inside!" he shouts without explanation, shoes sliding over stone as he leaps for the civil defence siren nestled against the gym building. "Get inside! There are geeks inside the fence!" 

Jeremy and Dustin had jerry-rigged the broken siren months ago for situations like this to only play for two seconds. Not long enough to attract anything that isn't already here. Steve slams his hand into the button and stares up at it in a petrified awe as the siren begins to cry, one long and wailing wave of sound that careers over the community. 

It might be his imagination, but he thinks that the silence after it stops is imbued with impending doom. One empty, fragile moment, before the shouting begins, and the following pop of gunfire is impossible to ignore. 

He thinks of you in the kitchen across the quad. He thinks of running to you, of hiding you somewhere nobody will ever get to you. 

He runs back the way he came. 

—

All these little faces in disarray. You huddle amongst the youngest ones and try your best to keep them quiet, whispering a story as the sound of gunshots cracking over asphalt rivets the quiet. 

"Me and Steve, we saw all kinds of fish. We saw carp, and salmon, and koi fish in the lake. They looked like huge, gorgeous goldfish, they had–" everyone jumps as something close by takes a hit, a fence perhaps, split apart— "these huge black eyes and these popping mouths. You know how fish pop their lips together?" 

You look around the circle and beg one of them to answer. If Sammy weren't such a wicked shot she would've stayed and handled this a hell of a lot better than you are.

"I know," says one of the youngest girls. She can't be six years olds. 

"Yeah? How do they do it?" 

She starts to pop her lips. You grin despite your welling panic and nod encouragingly. You'd clap if your hands weren't full of smaller hands. 

"Yeah, like that! They were swimming so close to us, I could see their gills." 

Your story isn't true, but it is distracting. You hold their attention for as long as you can. Pauline stands in the doorway, eyes flitting between the three entrances to the cafeteria, and Maybelle haunts the sink, hiding just behind the other overhead spray to try and find out what's going on. The storm siren hasn't sounded again, and Hopper hasn't come around to tell you it's safe. 

It might never be safe again.

You swallow down the urge to scream and squeeze the tiny fingers curled over your palm. They belong to a little boy, white and brown-haired with pretty hooded eyes. He looks like Steve. 

You could've sworn, just before the siren, that you'd heard him yelling, but you'd raced to the sink and looked out and hadn't seen him. 

You can't help thinking about it. About everything — he could die. He could already be dead. Joyce swore she hadn't seen him, and had only managed to speak to Christopher, who'd split off to alert the older group. She said Jonthan was holding off a group of geeks. She couldn't stay, determined to go help him. 

So if Christopher was looking for Hopper, and Jonathan was by himself at the north fence, where was Steve? Where exactly was the leak? 

You lean forward toward the kids and whisper, "Does anyone else have a story? From a vacation?" 

"We went to Niagara Falls, once," Becky says. 

"You did? What was it like, huh? Was the waterfall really loud?" 

Becky starts to tell her story. You try to listen. You can't think of anything at all besides Steve, though your priority is keeping everybody here safe, your brain won't stop. You can't shake the feeling that you'll lose him, and it's a bright red branding behind your eyes. You're gonna lose him.

This can't be happening. 

It's been a month since Connor, an ex-member of The College with delusions of grandeur, dragged you underdressed and freezing through miles of forest with your wrists bound, wondering if you'd ever see Steve again. A month of nightmares and hot flashes and reaching out for Steve in the dark. 

You'd thought, if you died, if Connor killed you, that it would ruin Steve's life. He'd waste it looking for you. You'd thought that was the worst feeling in the world, knowing you'd leave him behind.

You hadn't understood what this part felt like. How Steve must've felt, wondering if you were dead. How he must've argued with himself as you do now. 

Steve hadn't hesitated. Robin mentioned it once, casual but earnest. Steve tore the place apart looking for you. He assembled a search party and went looking for you on a hunch. Steve says he's lucky they chose the right direction. You know it's more than that. You know you're the lucky one. 

He knew you were in danger, and he came to get you. 

"Maybelle," you say, standing up. "I'm gonna need a knife." 

— 

Steve isn't sure what the fuck they're doing. Hopper shouts instructions but they're confusing and nobody knows what's happening. Geek gore drips down his arm and he prays he doesn't have any broken skin as he ploughs the sharp of the crowbar deep into a grey mottled eye socket. 

It shucks out, the geek's body collapsing in a heap at his feet. Tens more stagger forward.

"Everyone should be inside, but that doesn't mean everyone is inside!" Hopper shouts, his booming voice echoing over the din of shots and slick stabbing. "We need to contain them. Joyce, Jonathan, I need you back here. Bernier, Taylor, McCoy, push for the fence! We need to get it back up and standing before this gets worse. Harrington!" 

Steve pierces the skull of an approaching geek like an eggshell, springing back before a second can tear a chunk out of him. "What?" he yells. 

"You should circle back to the quad, make sure there aren't any stragglers."

"Joyce already secured–" 

"It's up to you, kid." 

Steve appreciates what Hopper's doing. Everyone knows you and Steve are unhealthily dependent on one another right now considering the circumstances, and he'll admit that his heart wants literally nothing more than to be where you are. He thinks of you locked up in the kitchen with all this happening outside and hates it, but as long as you stay where you are, that's as safe as you can be. 

He doesn't bother saying yes or no, throwing himself back into the throng. 

It's the ultimate workout. Sweat stings his eyes, his brain pounds behind them. He has to stay vigilant and he has to be fast. He cuts down geeks with a practised agility, Bernier on one side, Taylor the other. They force their way to the fence, and soon there's a small army of survivors behind them, bullets burning his eardrum to the right. 

When the fence is finally in view again, they buckle down. 

It's a huge struggle. Hopper and Livingstone front a team of five of the older guys with a replacement fence on their literal shoulders. The woods are teaming with geeks who must have heard the gunfire and the siren. They cut down the old fence behind Steve and the youngers. The new one gets thrown up just as Steve spears a geek through the ear, hammers whacking into frozen earth with a sound like a car crash.

"Harrington, inside the perimeter!" 

Steve eyes an imminent geek but does as Hopper commands, weaselling through the single gap they've left behind. They finish the inner hammering and Hopper and Livingstone set about chaining the sections back together. 

Steve backs away from the fence and tries to catch his breath. He leans back and brushes the hair out of his eyes, chest heaving, eyes shuttering closed in relied. They survived it. They did exactly what they were supposed to do in this situation and the plan worked. 

Somebody takes the crowbar from his hand and he lets them, scrubbing both hands through his hair, scalp cool with sweat as a gale of wind blows. He looks up, and the sky has darkened, that rare morning sunshine nowhere to be seen. 

He opens his eyes. Christopher is sitting a ways away looking queasy. Joyce is hugging the life out of Jonathan, kissing his cheek, hand in his hair. Bernier and Taylor are stabbing the new wave of geeks. Steve isn't worried, there aren't a quarter as many as there had been. 

The smell is barbaric. 

"Don't relax too quickly, kid," Hopper says, "we still gotta round up the bodies." 

Steve laughs morosely, secretly pleased when Hopper pats him on the shoulder. His back fucking hurts and he stinks of gore and zombie gunk. Dead material somehow slimy and dry as bark at once, Steve wants a shower, and a hug from you, in that specific order. 

"You okay?" Jonathan asks him, squinting. There's blood splattered against his forehead. 

"They had to do this today?" Steve asks. "This is my favourite shirt. I'm never gonna get the guts out–" 

A scream splits the air. 

"The quad," Hopper announces. "Taylor, Bernier, keep going. Everyone else, with me." 

His blood ice in his veins, Steve runs with the rest of the group. He realises he's left his crowbar with Taylor and grimaces, pulling the gun from his holster and knocking off the safety mechanism. Steve isn't good with a gun. He only ever used one right at the start, when he hadn't known that sound to a geek is like a porch light to moths. That, and he'd run out of ammo. 

"Oh, goddammit." 

There's a crowd of geeks they must've missed around the side of the town hall. Hopper immediately starts yelling at a young teenager screaming in front of the gym to get back inside. 

Steve's okay, his heart's fine, and then he sees you. You're wrist deep in brains, surrounded by bodies and coated in a black spray of blood. It's in your hair, your eyebrows, all over your cheek and your shoulder. 

He nearly wrenches Livingstone off of his feet as he bursts forward to help you, gun raised and poised. He shoots and drives forward. One geek, two. Three, five, he loses count. He gets so close he can hear your panting breath, not panicked but struggling to keep going. 

"Fucker," he says, one geek left between you and safety. 

You scramble to the side. Steve shoots it point black in the back of the head. It falls down slow, and then it thunks against your shoes. 

You reach for him on automatic as you pull your feet from under him, treading over the soft of the geeks shoulders and into Steve's waiting arms. He holds the gun away from you to click on the safety, shoving it back into his borrowed holster. 

"You're okay?" you ask loudly. 

"I'm fine, what are you doing out here? You should've stayed inside the pantry." 

"Says who?" you ask, squeezing him so tightly he feels his skin bruising in the shapes of your arms. 

"Says everyone!" he shouts, squeezing you back just as hard. 

You catch your breath together. His hands rove over your back, checking and rechecking that you're real and you're not hurt. He pushes you away from him to check your front properly, hand on your face, your arms. 

"I'm fine," you say, "I'm perfect." 

"You have more blood on you than the rest of us put together." 

You hum unhappily. "I think I got a fresh one in the artery. It sprayed like a fountain, it was–" You sigh, stroking a loose curl of dirtied hair from his eyes. "It was disgusting." 

He wants to kiss you, but he's normal, and you're both plastered in blood. He's less normal as he wraps his forearm behind your head and forces your face into his neck, groaning in an exhaustive relief. Your warm breath against his skin is everything he could ever ask for. 

"Stay inside, next time," he murmurs. 

"Not a chance." 

"Think I can give him a citation?" Steve hears Hopper ask. 

Joyce gasps through a laugh. "They're cute!" 

"This is a public space." 

Steve huffs a laugh against your ear. "Holy shit, you scared the fuck out of me." 

"I had to know you were okay." 

His hand slides down your shoulders, searching for something he can't explain. "I'm okay. We're okay, honey. You can relax."

The last of your resistance ebbs away. You melt into his arms, and Steve pretends for your sake that he can't feel you shaking like a leaf. You just tore your way through a herd to make sure he was okay: you're the bravest girl he's ever met.

[givemeonereason]

Meditations: First, the Friend and then, the Son

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Photo Credit: Here

Dragon Ball Masterlist Givemeonereason Masterlist

Rating: SO MANY FEELS

Plot: Krillin seeks out Gohan to get some more information about the girl who lost her "Piccolo." A warmth between friends and family.

A/N: Hello, and thank you for patiently waiting for me to write up this next installment. I kept saying I was writing and I kept pushing it aside. Depression is so real and writers burn out is really real too. I think I just overdid it.

I'm so excited and happy that this series has taken off. Seems like there really is an audience for Piccolo. And he deserves it! I'll keep it going for as long as the story needs it. Tall, green, and handsome love for all.

╒══════════════════════╕

The police speeder came to an abrupt halt outside Son Gohan estate.

When Krillin gingerly unhooked his regulation helmet and hung it from the handlebars of his unit, the elderly man who was tending to flowers in the garden was swiftly walking towards the main house.

After he disappeared through a side door a kind-looking, middle-aged woman came out to greet him.

"Good morning, sir." She bowed her head politely. "To what do we owe the pleasure of the local law enforcement?"

The formality of the situation made Krillin perk up his shoulders. "Sorry, ma'am I need to speak with Gohan. Do you know if he's around?"

"I believe he is in the library." She turned on her heel. "Please follow me."

What seemed like an endless amount of stairs for a pair of small legs, the door to the library was ajar. Gohan was buried among several piles of books, a laptop, and three mugs, which presumably had an unknown concoction of caffeine.

"Gohan." Krillin called out to him as he walked towards the desk, but Gohan only pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He scribbled vigorously at the notepad before him.

"Gohan?" Krillin repeated with a little more oomph. Gohan began to mumble to himself.

with the help of prefectural flora cultivation, this can provide direct resources to the habitat of-

"Gohan! Snap out of it."

Gohan shook his head and blinked his eyes a few times while readjusting his thick black frames. "Whoa, Krillin I didn't see you there."

"Obviously..." Krillin rolled his eyes.

"Gosh, how long have you been here." Gohan finished the sentence he was muttering and almost stabbed the notepad when he poked the paper at the period.

"Well, I've been trying to get your attention for a few minutes now."

"Okay, I'm sorry I'm on the verge of a breakthrough here." He picked up a large blue mug and took a swig, only to spit it back into the glass. His face contorted when he tried to wipe his tongue on his sleeve.

Krillin had picked up a book nearest him and flipped through a few pages. "Cognitive Ecology of Pollination: Animal Behaviour and Floral Evolution." Too many words. He set the book back down and crossed his arms. "This might be out of left field, but have you seen Piccolo lately?"

"Not today, no."

"No, I just mean recently. There is something fishy is going on. I don't know if you know about the girl?"

"There's a girl?" Gohan took a sip from a different mug garnished with a Satan City logo. He set that one down quickly. "Did Piccolo do something to a girl? I'm not sure I understand."

"That's what I'm trying to find out." Krillin took a seat in a wooden car adjacent to the large desk. "This is going to sound odd. Considering we've seen and experienced some very odd things in the past, this one is hard to place when it comes to weird."

Krillins folded his hands and relaxed his shoulders. "Well, here goes. Long story short; I got a report of a girl screaming on a hillside about an instrument. When I went to investigate the girl said she lost her piccolo. I put two and two together and figured she might be talking about our Piccolo. So when I went to The Hideout to ask Piccolo about this girl, he got defensive and said he did something to her. And I think he couldn't forgive himself, or I don't remember fine details."

Gohan sat for a few moments in silence thinking. "Do you know this girl?"

"Never met her a day in my life...until I spoke with her."

Gohan scratched at his hairline, pushing the rouge tuft of hair out of his face only for it to fall back down towards his eyes. "Piccolo hasn't said anything to me about a woman." His shoulders were undulated with confusion.

Before Gohan could circle the same conclusion, he spoke again. "Whatever it is, he seems to care enough about this girl. You know him. He's a pretty unfazed guy. Very serious. Not too emotional, or softish. You know what I mean."

Gohan reached out for the last mug on the desk, hesitating before grabbing the handle. He stared down at the contents swirling around in contemplation and decided against it. The mug clanked against the desk surface as Krillin's pleaded with him.

"I was kind of wondering if you would go talk to him? He practically demanded I leave The Hideout when I pressed the issue. If he's going to talk to anyone it's got to be you. You're practically his son."

The last bit made Gohan chuckle. "I don't know Krillin. If he didn't want to talk about it, maybe we should just leave it alone."

Krillin stood up and walked towards Gohan. "Could you just at least try. If he doesn't open up to you then I'll let it go, okay?"

"Okay, okay." Gohan stood up, pressing his palms against the armrests of his chair. "I'll go to talk to him tomorrow morning. I'll call you when I get back."

Krillin smiled widely. "Thanks Gohan. I just think, you know, he does.. has done so much for us that we can try and help him too sometimes. Even if he says he doesn't want it."

═══════════════════

When the morning light touched the western side of The Hideout, Gohan walked through the threshold Piccolos room. “Hey, Piccolo.”

Piccolo turned towards the similarly dressed young man, putting down the small, leather bound book in his hands on the small desk beside him. “Gohan, what brings you here this early.”

Gohan stretched his arms, his elbow popping loud enough to warrant a light echo. He laughed with some embarrassment. “Well, I guess I’m just a little rusty. I was wondering if we could spar?”

The upturned smirk told all Gohan needed to know before the two of them were passing blows hovering over the ground far below them.

One after the other, fists flying, blocking, dodging, power surging. Time was passing as the sun arched across the sky, but it only felt like moments. The adrenaline of the fight.

When Gohan began to tire slightly he landed a singular hit that propelled Piccolo back that anyone with even the best eyesight wouldn’t have seen. The super Sayain gives his all in the last throes of battle.

Piccolo gathered his equilibrium, and wiped the blood staining his lip against his forearm. He laughed as he landed on the grass below them. “You say you’re rusty, but you still got it, kid. You just got to put your mind to it.” He gently patted Gohan’s head, shaking his hair lightly.

Gohan plopped down to the ground and lay sprawling, taking in breaths. Piccolo sat down near him cross-legged. "I still think you have it in you to be the strongest, Gohan. But you've got a family now and your studies. You have more important battles to fight than just with your fists."

Gohan put his hands behind the back of his head. "I get discouraged sometimes. Everyone chastizes me for not keeping up with training. I'm 'a shame to the Sayain race,' or 'If only he could have---'" He shook his head. "Sometimes I wonder if Dad is still proud of me, even if my progress is strictly academic." He pondered on the thought. "It really doesn't matter, does it? Between Dad and Vegta there won't be anyone as strong. There won't be anyone who can't save the world." He looked over at Piccolo. "You're pretty strong too Piccolo."

Piccolo let out a deep, humph. "You are still stronger than me. And I only get involved when I am needed."

"Right. Why should we constantly have to be ready for a threat that might never come?"

"They always do."

Gohan sighed, closing his eyes. "Well, if they need me I will always be there. I won't let anything happen to anyone. Not after all the things we faced before."

The subtle sounds of nature became more apparent with this silence. The shallow sounds of breathing between them. Piccolo looked off into the near distance, his voice calm and relaxed. "If it accounts for anything, I am very proud of the man you've become."

Arms were tightly wrapped around. "Thank you for never giving up on me Piccolo."

Piccolo smiled to himself as Gohan sat down next to him. "I've been meaning to ask you something. Do you have a girlfriend?"

"A what?" Piccolo's voice turned deep again with seriousness.

"A girlfriend. You know, someone who you like and date." The look in Gohan's eyes was hopeful and sweet.

Tch- "I know what a girlfriend is. Why are you asking me this?"

"Well, Krillin stopped by and---"

"Not this again. Did that small man send you to do his bidding?"

Gohan got up and followed Piccolo when he began to walk away. He shouted, "I told him to stay out of it."

Gohan picked up his pace to meet the Namekian. "I don't even understand what Krillin was saying. But I wish you would just tell me what's going on. If not, you know he's going to get my dad involved."

Piccolo stopped and grunted. His arms crossed in defiance. Anything but Goku getting involved. Piccolo will NEVER hear the end of this. And if Goku makes a big deal out of this, it's everyone's problem.

But it's just his problem.

He stood quiet and tense. Gohan stood beside him stretching his legs and preparing to leave for home.

"I--" He started and stopped.

Hmmm, Gohan turned towards him.

"I don't even know how it happened. She came out of nowhere. Day after day, she prodded me with questions about myself. She sat with me as I meditated. She wasn't frightened of me." Piccolo was speaking so fervently and fastidiously that he was almost out of breath. "And I didn't know why or what to do. So I tried to show her that she shouldn't be so curious. I tried to scare her. I tried to stop her from coming around." His arms were tight against his chest. His chin pressed down into his collarbone.

Gohan watched Piccolo in awe. He's never seen this man act in such a way. The sorrow within the tightness of his shut eyes. The deep purple across his cheeks. Piccolo usually being a towering man, now pulling inward at his middle.

Gohan reached out and hugged him again. "Okay..." He looked at Piccolo, who bent his shoulders, which would normally be difficult to see over his shoulder pads. "Okay." Gohan's hand on Piccolo's forearm. His voice was so sweet and kind. "What did you do to scare her?"

Piccolo only took a deep breath. His booming voice was now almost a whisper. "I picked her up and took her in the air, flying. I flew and made myself out to be like another version of myself. I tried to make myself into King Piccolo." He's bent over near Gohan's shoulder, and Gohan lets him rest his forehead. "I made myself into something worth being frightened by. I didn't want her to trust so easily because she can easily become fodder like so many others have." His voice was almost nonexistent. "I could have killed her."

"But you didn't kill her, right?"

Piccolo shook his head. "But I could have."

"You didn't though. Sure, you could have maybe got your point across in a different way, but she's alright, right?"

"The look of terror in her eyes. The tears. I don't know why-- why I went--"

Gohan could hear the choked sobs before he pushed Piccolo back to face him. "Piccolo, I have known you my whole life and I've never seen you like this. You're like a whole different person. Usually, you're a very reserved guy, but I know these types of feelings. You must care a great deal for this girl. You're beating yourself up over the smallest thing." Piccolo kept his eyes closed shut, but his head lifted slightly, his arms relaxing as much as he could muster. "Hey, at least you don't explode or anything. You don't resort to your power because a lady is hurt or in danger. Blame it on the Sayain blood.”

Piccolo tried to straighten up and fix his posture. He wiped the tears that escaped from his eyes against his sleeve. Swallowing down his feelings deep into his chest.

“Piccolo, you’re allowed to have feelings like everyone else. Look at Dad, he’s an alien and he’s insane half the time.” Gohan laughed. “It’s okay to care about something for once. I know you care about me, about my family. But you can also care about something for yourself. If you care that deeply about this girl then I think you should talk to her. I think you should set things right between the two of you. Even if nothing comes of it and you just get closure.” Gohan pointed to Piccolo’s chest, pressing down into the fabric of the Namekian’s purple Gi. “If for all of us, but just for you.”

Gohan turned and started to walk away, calling over his shoulder. “You don’t need to bare the weight of this on your own. We’re always here for you. This is just a different type of fight.” He began hovering over the ground. “I have to get home before Videl gets angry.” He laughed. “Responsibilities.”

Piccolo could he his voice fading as he flew away. “All you have to do is try, Piccolo.”

Piccolo stood there, silent. The weight in his chest was still heavy. Do I care about this woman this greatly? He pressed his palm firmly against his chest, his cape flittering in the wind behind him. A heart beating strong behind his fingers. Is this love or understanding?

What I was once so sure about, I am at a loss.

Who do I want to be now?

(Just an extra reference photo here of our precious, green boy) Credit

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[bardot49]

Fight or Flight

Chapter 5

Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI)

Pairing: Joel Miller x OC (Jackson era)

Warnings: Themes of anxiety, PTSD, blood, gore, death, illness, injury, canon violence, cursing, alcohol misuse, mentions of child loss, foreplay, p in v, fingering, smut, explicit

Tags: Jackson!era Joel, Soft Joel Miller, Moody Joel Miller, Joel miller x AFAB reader, joel x female reader, Joel Miller Romance, Joel Miller x OC, Joel Miller slow burn

Masterlist here

Previous Chapter

Chapter Summary

Joel and Flora have a heart to heart and grow ever closer. A crisis concerning Ellie causes Joel to ask for Flora's help. Flora finally finds the courage to stand up for herself.

Chapter 5

"Give me time, I'm going to wear him down" Felicity says decisively to her friends as they walk down the main street. Flora couldn't help but overhear it as they came out of the hall and walked right in front of her causing her to stop abruptly. She knows Felicity is referring to Joel. She feels relieved nothing had happened between the two of them yet. "That brat is an annoyance, always hanging around. She's not even his real daughter" Felicity continues to say with venom. She feels angry at the mention of her friend. Felicity isn't the most discreet person and her friends only seem to encourage her bitchiness. They then start talking about something else trivial when she has an opportunity to pass them out. The other women don't give her a glance but she's glad she's not friendly with them.

"Everything ok honey?" Sally gives Flora a look as she arrives at the greenhouse. "Yep, just have a lot on my mind". "I'm here if you need me" Sally says with a kind smile. Sally is a dear friend to her but she can't talk to her about this, it's not her secret to tell. Ellie comes in and she tries to perk up for her. Flora has a suggestion for her - a tattoo to cover up the bites on her arm. Ellie lights up at the idea, the only obstacles are to first find someone willing to tattoo her and secondly to get Joel to agree to it.

There is a low hum of chatter when Joel goes into the Tipsy Bison one evening. He was after a long day patrolling and is feeling every one of his 57 years, his joints aching and back feeling stiff. They had shot six clickers that day and another few infected were caught in the traps located around the vast forest. Tommy told him that the Committee are having a meeting to plan an Easter egg hunt for the kids so he knew that for certain Felicity would be otherwise occupied. He felt like a quiet drink without her hanging around. The barman, Dave hands him a double whiskey and he takes a sip. "Evening Joel" says Eugene as he joins Joel at the bar. Joel raises his glass to him in greeting. Eugene takes a large gulp of his own drink and explains its the date of his wedding anniversary. "Forty one years since we said 'I do'. I miss her everyday. She was my one and only" he hiccups, burping a little. "She would have loved it here, my missus. Valerie was her name. We never could have kids, as much as we tried, she miscarried half a dozen times. In the end we were content with our little family of two." "Sorry to hear that Eugene" Joel replies. "Cancer got her in the end, the month before the world turned to shit" Eugene sighs, signalling to Dave for another round. Dave places the two glasses on the bar, firmly saying "Last one Eugene, I mean it". "Ok, ok" Eugene says waving his hand dismissively. "The reason I'm saying this is…" him trailing off. "…If you have a chance at happiness, take it." "To happiness" he toasts, his voice getting sleepy and Joel clinks his glass with his. Joel tells him about where they caught clickers earlier and Eugene remembers that's his turn to go patrolling the following day. "Oh fuck, I don't think I'll be in any state to go…" he slurs putting his head in his hands. Joel feels sorry for him, offering "Don't worry about it, I'll cover for you". A look of relief passes Eugene's face and he pats Joel on the shoulder saying "Thanks man, I owe you one" and he throws back the remaining liquid in his glass. "Look out for Flora, she's a sweet girl" he says protectively. "Of course I will" Joel answers, meaning it. He offers to walk the older man home before he gets more inebriated. After making sure Eugene is gone inside, Joel passes Flora's house on his way home. He can see the light still on upstairs, maybe she's reading he thinks to himself. He looks forward to seeing her in the morning, forgetting all about his aches and pains.

The following morning Flora arrives for patrol to see Joel putting the saddle on his horse. "Eugene is hung over again and Sean hurt his hand so just us two today" he explains. "Cool" she answers, trying to stay calm. They ride along in silence, the last of the snow finally cleared. She eventually plucks up the courage to say what she desperately wanted to say before, "Thank you for the book, it means a lot to me". He just shrugs it off, saying "It was nothing". It looks like he doesn't want to talk about it anymore so she doesn't say anything else. She thinks it's going to be a long ride today.

They don't speak for a couple of hours. Once they reach the furthest part of the route, past the dam, Joel finally breaks the silence saying they should stop for a while and have a break. Flora nods, climbing down from her horse and tying it up. They're up quite high and she can't help but admire the view of the valley below. He hands her a cup of coffee out of the flask and she relishes the warm drink. They both feed the horses and she joins him to sit on a log as they eat their lunch in silence. She can't think of anything to say. "Where are you from?" he enquires eventually. She jumps at his question at first but answers "Washington state". He nods. "You're from Texas aren't you, Tommy said it once". Their eyes meet and up close she can't help but notice the rich colour of his brown eyes, the deeply etched lines around them making him even more handsome. "Yes, just Tommy and myself still around now" he answers. There's silence again. She surprises herself by talking more. "I'm the only one left from my family". He listens intently, not wanting her to stop sharing. "They all died on the day of the outbreak. I had a younger brother and sister, ten year old twins. They went with our mom to the supermarket when it all happened on outbreak day, I never saw them again, I found out later they were caught in an explosion from a plane crash. My dad.." she feels a tear coming to her eyes, hesitant at first but continues to speak. "We had a fight that morning over something stupid", her voice breaking, "I told him I hated him and he went to work and never came back again" she says in a hoarse way. She looks down as the tears start streaming down her cheeks. The shame is too much for her to bear. Joel moves closer to her, handing her a handkerchief with a look of concern. He tries to console her "You were only young, he knew you didn't mean it". "But it doesn't change the fact that I said it and there's no way of taking it back". She says sadly. Joel puts his arm around her tentatively and she rests her head on his shoulder. "It's a shitty situation" he says, rubbing her arm gently. All she can do is nod. "My daughter Sarah died on the night of the outbreak. Tommy was with us and we were trying to get out of Austin but couldn't, it was mayhem. We crashed the jeep and she hurt her ankle. We tried to cross the river but a soldier shot at us and she died in my arms. I replay that night over and over and I can't get over the fact that I failed her and I lost the most precious thing to me." She sees that he's heartbroken. "You're a great dad to Ellie" she says to him. He smiles sadly and admits he would do anything to protect her, she's the most important thing to him now. She opens up once more "Flora isn't actually my real name you know, its a nickname my dad gave me when I was a small child and it stuck. I kept using it all these years in honour of him". He looks in interest towards her and when she tells him her real name he smiles softly, saying it's beautiful but Flora suits her and she gives a small smile in return. After a moment she feels mortified for showing such weakness, and apologises "Sorry for telling you all that, I kept it inside all those years, I don't think I ever spoke about what happened on Outbreak day with my dad to anyone, except for Sally". "Don't apologise, I'm glad you told me Darlin'" he looks deeply into her eyes and sees years of sorrow and loneliness. She looks away swiftly and tries and fails to hold back another tear. He can see she has a deep sadness within her that he can identify with. He stands up to give her some space and checks on the horses. When he returns she is picking some wildflowers. He can't help but admire her natural beauty, she looks almost ethereal in the spring sunlight surrounded by nature. After a few minutes they decide to head back. Her eyes are still red rimmed but she feels a bit lighter to have spoken about it. It didn't frighten her like it might have before when he called her Darlin'. There didn't seem to be much awkwardness between them, they were just two lonely people.

When they eventually reach the stables late that afternoon, Joel says "Thanks for being there for Ellie, you mean a lot to her". Flora smiles and says "Ellie is special to me too." "By the way, it's a great idea about the tattoo" he grins. She is surprised he is so open to it but doesn't let it show. "Ellie said she would like to ask you to design it when the time comes, because of your paintings". She's honoured to be thought of and gives a shy smile, saying she might have a few ideas. Her paintings were mainly of flowers and not many people were aware of them because she doesn't have many visitors at her house. They say goodbye and head off on their separate ways. She replays the conversation they had at lunchtime in her mind all evening. She doesn't know why she showed such vulnerability but it happened. Should she have told him her darkest secret, which has caused her so much sorrow and shame the past two decades? Will he think less of her? It was unspoken but she knows he won't tell anyone. Likewise he can trust her, she would never speak about his daughter to anyone else. It was quite an intimate moment between them actually. Flora comes to the realisation that her crush on him seems to have gotten only stronger instead of fading away, she's fallen deeply in love with him. The fear she felt last year has dissipated. It's all she wants now, to have him in her life and to be his. She doesn't know if it's too late for that though, maybe he doesn't feel the same about her.

As Flora gets into bed that night she starts to get excited thinking of ideas for Ellie's tattoo, thinking of suitable options to design for her. Hours later a distant knock on her front door wakes her. She hops out of bed and pulls on a sweater in confusion at the increasingly frantic sound. She rushes to open the door and is taken aback to see Joel standing there in the dark. She has to squint because she's half asleep. "Ellie's gone, she's run away" he says, panic showing in his normally steady voice. "It will be alright, we'll find her" she replies in shock, trying to stay calm herself. "Come in, I'll just be a minute". He stands inside the door while she runs to her room and puts on a pair of jeans and a jacket. 5:12am is the time on the clock. They walk briskly to the stables where Dina, Tommy and Eugene are gathering the horses. She goes over to Dina who's visibly upset. "What happened?" "We had a fight. She told me she has feelings for me and I got a fright and said no and she ran off after that. I'm so confused". Dina's nose is running and her cheeks are tear stained so she hands her a tissue and tries to comfort her. "Where do we start?" Tommy asks. They list out a few places in town where she might have gone. Dina tells them there is a place they went one time, its by a large tree in an old part of town. "I know it" Flora says. "Show me so" Joel says firmly, looking at the two women. "Check the perimeter and make sure she hasn't left" he directs the two men. They nod in understanding and set off.

The early morning light is starting to shine but the spring air is cool, their breaths visible in the air. There's no talking and Dina has stopped crying. They see the ancient tree and the abandoned record shop nearby. Joel glances at her to see if this is the right place. They start calling Ellie's name but no answer. Dina goes in and walks up and down the empty aisles. There no sign of Ellie anywhere. Joel is just about to say this was a waste of time when they hear a faint muffled voice saying "Go away". The sound seems to be coming from upstairs. "I'll go" Flora insists and starts to climb over fallen shelves to get to the mezzanine and she feels a pair of strong arms steadying her as she reaches up. She sees Ellie curled up in a ball, she has been crying as well. She crouches on the ground next to her and Ellie starts rambling about Dina and how she rejected her. She consoles her, saying Ellie was brave to say what she said and to give Dina some time to consider things. After a few minutes, Ellie agrees to come down and Joel is there to help them. The two girls give each other a hug and apologize. Dina explains she needs time and Ellie nods sadly in understanding. Flora gives a quick glance at Joel and there is a look of relief on his face. He puts his hand on her arm briefly, saying thanks and leaves quickly to let others know that Ellie has been found. The town is waking up with people milling around as she walks home. Feeling exhausted, she goes back to bed and sees him in her dreams.

When Flora wakes a few hours later, she feels a sense of calm. She draws a sketch of a tattoo design for Ellie, after finding a suitable picture in a gardening book. After a while she decides to get some early lunch. To her dismay, she sees Felicity and her two friends sat there in the hall. She can't shake off the feeling that there are eyes on her as she takes a sandwich and an apple. They seem to be talk extra loud this time. "She ran away, attention seeking little bitch. I heard him and that mousey girl found her…I heard that…". She couldn't believe her ears, were they seriously talking that way in front of her and about her? Mousey girl, she fumes. They continue on and she glances up and sees Felicity's friend Michelle glaring at her. So she wasn't being paranoid, they were making it obvious. Flora normally avoids confrontation but their words stung. How dare they talk like that. After the night she had, she doesn't care anymore. Before she has time to think, she finds herself standing in front of their table. "Don't dare speak about Ellie in that way" she says firmly. They look her up and down and Felicity seethes "Who are you anyway, you're nobody. You're so quiet everyone forgets you're there". She doesn't know where the courage has come from but she stands her ground. "Keep your opinions to yourself, the rest of us here aren't interested". Felicity scoffs and waves her hand in a dismissive way, "Fuck off mousey girl". "No, I won't, they are both important to me so don't ever talk like that again" she surprised herself with her own voice appearing steady even though she's shaking inside. Felicity responds in a pitying way "Oh I see now, you think Joel would be actually be into you, that's so pathetic". The other women start to snigger at her. Maria appears out of nowhere with the baby asleep in a sling. "Everything alright ladies?" She looks in concern at Flora standing there. "Oh yes, we were having a private conversation and mousey girl here decided to interrupt us, we're just leaving". They start to gather up their things. Maria holds up her hands to stop them and protests "Hang on, what did you actually say? Don't you dare speak to Flora like that" the women are frozen on the spot at the strictness of her voice. "I'm afraid Felicity the three of you and I will have to talk about this further. It is totally unacceptable. Come to my house at three" Maria continues curtly. Felicity rolls her eyes as they march off.

Maria turns and sees Flora shaking. "Are you ok?" She puts her arm around her. "Don't mind them, they were completely out of order" Maria says kindly, "I'll walk with you if you like". Flora grimaces as they leave the building and she starts babbling, "They were talking about Ellie and I couldn't take it any more, I feel sick now. Why were they calling me mousey girl?". "Felicity is just a bitch, she's annoyed that Joel didn't bother with her. He told her to stay away from him, that he doesn't want to be with her. Tommy said there wasn't ever anything between them, it was only her pursuing him. He tried letting her down easy a few weeks ago but she didn't get the hint so when she threw herself at him last night he made it crystal clear that he doesn't want her" Maria says matter-of-factly and continues "She's jealous because she probably noticed he's only interested in you and she wanted to hurt your feelings. Its just so petty of her". Flora hopes what she just heard is true, is maybe she didn't mess everything up with Joel after all. The outside air is refreshing and she's glad to be away from the curious looks of the others in the hall. "You know you're very well regarded here by everyone. You work hard and we all value you. Please don't take those stupid women's words to heart, they're not worth it" Maria says earnestly. "I'll try not to" Flora says as her eyes begin to water. Maria starts chatting about baby Joey, who's beginning to wake up. By the time they reach her house, she feels a little better about things already but she can't quite believe it happened, this has sent her reeling.

A few hours later, Maria goes to the building site and Tommy comes out to see her and their son. Maria tells him she needs to speak to Joel. He is up on the roof when he hears Tommy calling him to come down. Maria fills them in and Joel feels anger rise up in him, how dare that harpy disrespect Flora and Ellie like that. Maria tells them she spoke to Felicity and the others and they won't dare behave like that again or there will be repercussions. Maria is a force to be reconned with so anyone in their right mind wouldn't go against her. Joel tells them he's going to see Flora and runs straight in the direction of her house. He passes Sally when he's nearly there and she tells him Flora and Ellie went to his house. They had called to the greenhouse for some leaves. She reckoned it must be for an art project. Joel thanks her and turns around to go home.

Joel rushes in the front door, trying to catch his breath. Flora's heart soars when she sees him. "I heard what happened" he explains to her, as they both sit down on the sofa, "I came to see you as soon as I could. Maria told me". She nods. "Thanks for standing up for Ellie. I don't give a shit about Felicity and never did, she's not worth any of our time. I only care about you, you're the one I think of". She's taken aback by his honest declaration, not sure how to respond at first but she replies "You're both important to me so I had to do something. I care about you too-". Ellie comes back into the living room and sits in the middle of them, excitedly showing Joel the sketches for the tattoo so far. The moment has passed, there was so much more to say. He smiles fondly at Ellie, relieved to see she is happier. The girls had a good chat that morning and agreed to take things slow. Ellie announces she's going to see Dina, she turns to her saying "Are you coming Flo?". Flora stands up and starts to say "Well…" but Joel asks "Could I have a quick word with you first?". She nods, sitting back down. Ellie shrugs, saying she'll go then.

Once Ellie has left, Joel moves closer to Flora and reaches for her hands. "I'm sorry if I scared you before, my feelings have stayed the same. I've fallen for you". She takes a moment before admitting "You didn't do anything wrong Joel, I didn't handle it very well. I never had a relationship before so I was afraid. I'm not anymore, I want this…I want you", she lifts his hands to her lips and places a light kiss on the back of his hand. Full of hope, he gently cups her cheek in his palm. He moves towards her slowly, searching for any hesitation on her side. She doesn't back away and his eyes flicker towards her soft lips. She moves towards him and they are only an inch or two away from one another. Finally their lips meet in a slow gentle kiss. It's chaste at first and he pulls away and looks into her eyes. Her pupils have dilated and she gives a small smile. The spark between them is stronger than ever.

Ellie bursts in the door again "Forgot my coat, its pouring down…" she stops and looks at the two of them in an embrace and her face breaks into a grin, "I knew it, at fucking last!" and grabs her coat, saying "I'll be away hours" with a wink and goes out the door again. They both smile and he turns to her again, "You're beautiful. I love you" he murmurs before they kiss once more, this time increasingly urgent and longing. Flora reaches up to hold on to his hair and feels the soft curls beneath her fingers and he pulls her closer in his arms. They break away briefly, her admitting "I love you too Joel". He shrugs off his jacket as they lean back on the sofa to get more comfortable. He delicately kisses down her neck to her collarbone and she giggles at the sensation, his wispy beard tickling her. He starts to chuckle too. She kisses his temple and her hands brush lightly over his scar there. Time seems to stand still and there's only the two of them.

She's not sure how long they stay there until Joel asks her if she's hungry and she admits that she's starving. He tells her to stay there and he goes in to the kitchen to rustle up something. She looks over where his guitar is propped up on a chair and there's a stack of guitar music books on the table. She sits at the table and flicks through some of them, recognising the names of the musicians - Johnny Cash, Willie Nelson, Roy Orbison, The Beatles and more. Joel comes in with two bowls a few minutes later. He heated some Tortilla soup, telling her Maria had made it using their Abuela's recipe and had dropped some over the previous evening. It had been one of Sarah's favourites growing up. Flora sees how he lights up talking about his wonderful daughter and how proud he is of her. Once they are finished eating he pours them both a glass of whiskey, it's nice just the two of them spending time in each others company. "Will you play a song for me?" Flora asks shyly. Joel grins, saying "Any requests?". "I don't mind, maybe something from the Eighties?" she says, with a hopeful smile. He beams back at her, reaching for a songbook called 'Classic Guitar Ballads' and flicks through the pages, until deciding that he found just the song. He says "Here goes" and starts playing the intro deftly. She's mesmerised by him playing the guitar so skilfully, his limber fingers flying over the chords. He starts singing huskily and she recognises the song as 'When you say nothing at all' as sung by Keith Whitley. He concentrates on getting the correct chords but looks up at her briefly every so often and she feels a warm glow in her chest and continues to admire him without feeling embarrassed. The lyrics are meaningful to her and they both fall even deeper in love with each other at that moment.

"It's amazing how you can speak right to my heart Without saying a word you can light up the dark…"

"…All day long I can hear people talking out loud But when you hold me near you drown out the crowd…"

"…Old Mister Webster could never define What's being said between your heart and mine…"

"…The smile on your face lets me know that you need me There's a truth in your eyes saying you'll never leave me A touch of your hand says you'll catch me if ever I fall Yeah, you say it best When you say nothing at all"

When Joel finishes the song Flora claps and he takes a small bow before they both move back to the couch where they start kissing once more, one of his hands resting on her thigh and her arms wrapped around his neck. They can't get enough of each other. "Touch me Joel" she pleads. "Where, darlin?" She opens up the button on her jeans, undoing the zip and guides his hand under her underwear. He gently strokes her, easing his fingers into her folds. She sighs, closing her eyes, "That's nice…" He slides two fingers inside her, muttering "Sweetheart, you're gorgeous". "I need you, keep going please" she begs. "Yes darlin, I'd do anything for you, I want to make you feel good…" He says soothingly. "You are…so good" she manages to say before biting her lip in pleasure. She starts to pant, as his stroking gets increasingly urgent. "Uh huh, I'm going to"…before she can say anymore, she reaches a crescendo and starts to tremble, he feels her quivering around his fingers nestled deep inside and keeps the rhythm going until she comes down from her high. Both satisfied, she lays back for a moment, catching her breath and Joel removes his fingers, licking the fluid from them. Sitting next to her, he says in awe "You taste wonderful, so sweet". She grins back at him, feeling content. She asks "Can we go upstairs? with a glint in her eye. He nods with a lustful look and he leads the way towards his bedroom, hand in hand.

He closes the door behind them and they sit on his bed. "We don't have to do anything else tonight" he says softly, reaching over to lay his hand on her cheek. Flora says decisively "I'm ready for this Joel". He nods, and asks "Is it your first time?". "Yes", she says feeling embarrassed at her lack of experience for a moment. "We'll take things slow, tell me if you're not comfortable and we can stop" he decides, trying to put her at ease, "It's only the two of us so no pressure". "Ok" she agrees and they continue to kiss. After a few minutes she straddles him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and he holds on to her waist and moves his hands to cup her butt through her jeans. They stop kissing for a moment and they start to remove their clothes gradually, starting with their shirts and vests underneath. She moves her hands across his broad chest and he admires her curves, gently unhooking her bra and letting it fall with the rest of the clothes. She pulls off the hair tie holding her braid together and her hair falls over her shoulders. He rests his hands on her full breasts, gently stroking her nipples, kissing sensuously down her chest. She leaves out a breathy sigh at this sensation, his touch giving her pleasure she never experienced before. She can feel his erection through his jeans and desperately wants to see all of him so she takes a step back and pulls him with her to stand up. They hastily pull off their boots, wriggle out of their jeans, then underwear and socks until they stand in front of each other naked. "Wow" he can't help but mutter in admiration as he sees Flora's naked form. She had never felt as beautiful until that very moment. She usually hid her body in large jumpers and thick shirts, not wanting to draw unwanted attention but at last she finally felt happy and wanted to share this moment with him. She in turn looks in appreciation at his strong and firm physique. She notices a few scars littering his body including a red raised scar on his taut stomach but she thinks he's magnificent. She looks down at his erect penis, reaching out cautiously to touch it. She starts to laugh nervously and he guides her hands over it. She gently strokes him, fascinated by the sight. She gets on her knees, kissing along it's length, causing him to twitch slightly at her light touch and he lets out a groan. She cups his balls in her hands as she kisses down the other side. "Sweetheart, I can't last much longer…" he mutters, looking upwards at the ceiling in an effort to stop himself coming prematurely.

She stands up and takes a step towards him and he reaches over to rub his thumb over her pink lips. They look deeply into each other's eyes and smile softly. He takes her hand and they slide in under the bedsheets and immediately put their arms around one another, desperately needing each other's touch. He briefly breaks a kiss to reach into his bedside locker for something. "Just a minute" he says as he goes over to his chest of drawers. She lays back in bed, admiring his tanned skin on his chiselled shoulders and arms. A moment later he returns with a foil in his hand. "Protection" he explains and she nods, watching him place the condom swiftly. "Is this ok?" he asks, moving gently on top of her, her legs opening instinctively to accommodate the size of him. "Yes" Flora assures him. "I hope this won't be too uncomfortable for you, it should only be this first time" he says lightly stroking her hair before lining himself up and moving in further to her. Flora takes a gulp of air, her breathing hitched, feeling tight at first but the sensation lessons as he moves further and further inside her. It feels so right, the two of them joined together in this way. He moves so gently but she feels pleasure increasing already and she tries to keep a whimper in. "Let it out" he smiles approvingly, gazing down at her as she starts to moan softly. Encouraged by this, he steps up the pace gradually, relishing every moment. She closes her eyes, saying "So good Joel, keep going.." she breathes deeply before biting her bottom lip. "You're gorgeous Flora, thank you" he can't help saying, she opens her eyes and looks up at him, with tears of happiness, "Joel, you're…", she feels a new level of pleasure, teetering on the edge "..amazing, oh there, there, there, yes, yes Joel". He can feel her shaking with ecstasy, her eyes opening wide and her head rolling back in to the pillow. he can't help but kiss her deeply as she looks at him again and grips his shoulders. He's close now too, the rhythm constantly moving taking him there. He looks down at her heaving chest, her soft breasts and her nipples looking so inviting. He can't resist when he catches one nipple in his mouth, sucking gently and letting go with a plop and moves to the other one. She leaves out a moan in pleasant surprise and immediately orgasms once more, arching her back, muttering his name. He whispers "Fuck Darlin', you're perfect". She starts to stretch, trying to let more of him in, franticly trying to get that high once more. He moves with her going as deep as he can and finally they both moan in pleasure. She's in another realm and he can't think of anything but the two of them at that moment. It's everything they both had dreamed of.

He eases himself out of her and they lie side by side, panting and they can't help but look at each other and grin. "That was.." he starts "..unbelievable" she finishes, giving him a kiss on his collarbone as she lays her head on his shoulder, both glistening with sweat. "So that's what I've been missing all these years" she jokes. He smiles, holding her closer "that was extra special, I don't think it ever felt like that for me before" and gives a gentle kiss to her forehead. "I hope I was ok at it" she says shyly. "Of course you were, you're a natural" he says softly. She traces a finger lightly over his chest. "Now that's making love", he agrees "So much better than just sex." She starts to grin, "I love you Joel, thank you". He smiles softly down at her "I love you too Darlin'". They continue to laugh and talk about everything and anything into the night until they both fall asleep in each other's arms.

Joel wakes in the early morning and sees her huddled against him, her pretty features calm and untroubled, with her long hair cascading over her shoulders. He can't believe it's not a dream, that they really are there together. He continues to look in awe at this beautiful creature occupying his bed, she makes him feel young again. He thought those days were long behind him but he feels the intensity of the love they share. Against all odds, here they are together. They belong to one another and he makes a promise to spend every day of the rest of his life making her happy. He closes his eyes once more, trying to savour the moment. Flora wakes up not long after, feeling rested. She takes notice of his handsome face, his strong nose and sees his lines on his forehead and his lips in a pout. She can't resist kissing him lightly on the lips at that moment and to her surprise he eagerly starts to return the kiss, the passion between them increasing. Gradually he opens his eyes, heavy with tiredness at first but up close she notices how they are shining. They both smile with pure happiness at one another. "Ready for round two?" she whispers and he grins back, a mischievous look in his eye as they join together once more.

Link for song Joel serenades Flora with:

[bomberqueen17]

Liveblogging the Aubreyad: Post Captain Part Two

More book, less background, all spoilers.

I will here put in a plug for listening to the Simon Vance audiobooks of this series on 1.25x speed, can't recommend highly enough. Except his foreign accents are terrible, I won't lie about that. Anyhow. Get a library card and check these out if you would rather not read my summaries, which despite their thoroughness are not entire. The books are a challenging read but I did manage it at 12 but I did that through the power of being a socially isolated undiagnosed neurodivergent child so I don't necessarily recommend that either.

A NEE HOO, the book:

In part 1 we got female characters (sweet innocent Sophia? or her worldly, dashing cousin Diana?), sweet bachelor pad, social lives, horse farts, and *jazz hands* financial ruinnnnnn, and our intrepid heroes have fled to France where a Frenchman ruined Jack's composure by kissing him. But now, war has broken out, and they must flee without being arrested, which will be very difficult because Jack is approximately the most ostentatiously English person ever to have existed on this planet, in this universe.

And so now we pay off on my earlier bullet-point about Jack's fursona.

I had genuinely forgotten about this when I first relistened to the books. I listened to this long expounded-upon scenario, where a convoy of English prisoners of the French is resting and there's a man with a tame bear passing by and the prisoners, especially a sea officer trying to impress a lady in company with him, want him to make the bear dance even though it is hot and the bear is obviously tired, and the gendarmes finally come over and insist that the bear must dance to prove it really is a tame bear, and I was just expecting this to be some background descriptive passage included in the book for the atmosphere as so many are until, as they are finally left alone and the bear-leader is sitting counting up the coins people tossed at them, unaccountably reciting them to the bear as if the bear is going to care, the bear out of nowhere answers him.

“When one sea-officer is to be roasted, there is always another at hand to turn the spit,' said the bear. 'It is an old service proverb. I hope to God I have that fornicating young sod under my command one day. i'll make him dance a hornpipe - oh, such a hornpipe. Stephen, prop my jaws open a little more, will you? I think I shall die in five minutes if you don't. Could we not creep into a field and take it off?' 'No,' said Stephen. 'But I shall lead you to an inn as soon as the market has cleared, and lodge you in a cool damp cellar for the afternoon. I will also get you a collar, to enable you to breathe. We must reach Couiza by dawn.'

Stephen for his own inscrutable reasons names the bear Flora and tells everyone it is a female bear whose female troubles make it bad at dancing. Meanwhile Jack is being slowly murdered by the suit, his bare bloody feet glued to the costume's paws, insects eating him, never able to eat or drink enough, always overheated. By the time they make it to the Spanish border, Jack is nearly dead. It's a good character study: he is still thinking tactically at some times, still has the capacity to wonder whether Stephen might yet betray him, to notice that he has heretofore in their acquaintance underestimated Stephen severely, but his innate and natural response to this kind of hopeless privation and suffering is to simply submit to it and endure, doing whatever Stephen tells him to, understanding that there is no useful resistance he can make; he resents Stephen but also recognizes that Stephen too is suffering, this is simply what must be done and he must endure it, beyond any concept of limits. As they finally reach Spain he sits on a rock and dreamily tells Stephen he is glad Stephen seems so happy, and just sort of echoes whatever Stephen says, clearly well beyond comprehending what's going on anymore. (He does revive once the bear suit comes off.)

He spends some time very ill in Stephen's house just across the border. Stephen owns a castle there, though it's mostly in ruins. Once Jack can move, they make their way, this time both as humans, down to Gibraltar, and book passage home in an Indiaman* that has happened to put in there for repairs.

[* for the record the word Indiaman refers to a merchant ship plying the rich trade route to India, and would have female pronouns, like any ship. Actual human Indian men, if sailors or soldiers, are referred to as Lascars, with normal human pronouns as applicable, and as far as I can tell this is just a neutral descriptor and even though racial attitudes of the time were what they were, was not ever particularly used as a slur. Now You Know. Listen I'm trying to look things up as I go, since there's Period-Typical-Everything in here, but I might miss some, do be advised; I don't intend to condone any anythings in any of this nor do I wish to carelessly use loaded terms but it can be difficult to suss out what's what in the modern context.]

Aboard that Indiaman is another of my earlier bullet points: yes it's TOM PULLINGS. Jack recognizes him by his huge grin from across the ship, he's so delighted to see them, human sunbeam that he is.

Never confirmed as a lieutenant after the acting commission Jack had given him in the Sophie, quite without any political influence or hope of help in that quarter (though Jack had written letters of introduction for him to every single captain he knew who he thought might have a spot for him), TOM PULLINGS has given up on the Navy and taken a job with the East India Company, which pays better but is entirely without glory or hope of promotion.

“Why, sir, I could not get a ship and they would not confirm me in my rank. No white lapels for you, Pullings, old cock, they said. We got too many coves like you, by half." ''What a damned shame," cried Jack, who had seen Pullings in action and who knew that the Navy did not and indeed could not possibly have too many coves like him.

Another fun bit of fuzzy timekeeping which I should tally somewhere here is that while we know Jack and Stephen's adventure in France was of some considerable duration, every so often for the next few books Pullings will point out yet another Indiaman and say delightedly "I made two voyages in her", and I should start a running tally of How Many Indiamen Has Tom Pullings Been In somewhere because each voyage is a minimum of six months, and we have seen Pullings earlier in this book, he attended the St Vincent Battle Ball in February of-- whatever year that was. (Side note: Mowett mentions having served previously in the Namur, which was at the Battle of St Vincent, and it was only three years before, so it's perfectly possible he was there, but it's never brought up. Thinks to think upon!)

(I am sure some fan at some point has already done this work. But all the discussion boards are from 2003ish and it is hard to search them. Better than modern fandoms, where it all vanishes into private Discords, but it is... sort of sad, to look through the moribund message boards and remember being in spaces like that and how great they were. RIP to the golden days of the Internet.)

I've already explained how promotion works, so I don't need to elaborate on how very slim Pullings's career prospects are. He shows Jack all around his ship, and Jack tries very hard to be polite, but merchantmen, after the Navy, are a sort of sorry, squalid state of things, and there's not a lot to be polite about. Pullings clearly does the best he can but he has only a thin crew, a poor-sailing sluggish fat ship, and a timid captain to work with. What's worse, many of the crew are Lascars-- fine seamen, but they seem poorly; the initial assumption that they are simply not used to the cold proves wrong, it turns out that they're all succumbing to the flu, which is affecting the Europeans too but is hitting the Lascars that much harder. So the ship is now critically short-handed, with many of the crew incapacitated by the flu.

And then a French privateer heaves into sight, the Bellone. The captain doesn't know what to do and is terrified. Pullings beats the ship approximately into shape by sheer dint of competence and strong feeling, but there's not a lot of hope, he quite simply has very little to work with. Jack steps up and volunteers to take charge of one of the divisions of guns. It is so long since they have been used that he has to fire one to blow the port lid off, it having been painted into place long ago.

A brisk action ensues, but the Indiaman, despite all the heroics Jack and Pullings can manage, is overwhelmed and taken. Jack and Pullings are both moderately-to-severely injured in the fight, Jack left briefly in a coma after falling down a hatchway and Pullings being both shot and stabbed. The French steal everything aboard the ship including the passengers' personal property and Stephen's surgical implements that he was in the middle of using, impose a heavy prize-crew, and undertake to sail the Indiaman to a Spanish harbor. Jack will certainly spend the war a French prisoner, with no hope of getting home, getting a command, advancing his career, staying relevant.

But then an English brig, recognized as the Seagull by Pullings because his uncle used to be the sailing master in her, shows up and fights the French prize-crew to a standstill. Our heroes spend the action locked up below, but the French captain lets them out when the action grinds to a pause, the Seagull heavily damaged trying to repair itself enough to continue. Things look bad; the Frenchman is annoyed and might just sink the Seagull out of spite, but then a squadron of homeward-bound Royal Navy ships of the line round the headland-- the HMS Colossus, a 74, the Tonnant of eighty guns, more behind them-- and Jack puts his hand down over the touch-hole of the gun the Frenchman was about to fire at the Seagull and coldly tells him he must surrender to the brig.

Which he does.

So now Jack is home to England, and back in the running to get himself a ship so he can participate in this war and stay alive in his career-- but where he also is still at constant risk of being arrested for debt.

The new First Lord of the Admiralty is Lord Melville, whose family name is Dundas-- the older brother, in fact, of Heneage Dundas, who was a midshipman and then a lieutenant alongside Jack, one of his best friends. Melville thinks his younger brother is a bit of an idiot, but has some small fondness for Jack anyway. So there's hope. But Jack is arriving so late that all the best posts have already been snapped up. Melville promises to do his best to find him something, but tells him not to hold out much hope of something actually good. Jack does explain his specific problem, however-- the debt thing-- and Melville is understanding of it at least.

Jack has taken lodgings in a tiny shack outside of town with Stephen, giving rise to this charming description, please to look out for a particularly excellent 19th-century word usage:

At present they were lodging in an idyllic cottage near the heath with green shutters and a honeysuckle over the door - idyllic in summer, that is to say. They were looking after themselves, living with rigid economy; and there was no greater proof of their friendship than the way their harmony withstood their very grave differences in domestic behaviour. In Jack's opinion Stephen was little better than a slut: his papers, odd bits of dry, garlic'd bread, his razors and small-clothes lay on and about his private table in a miserable squalor; and from the appearance of the grizzled wig that was now acting as a tea-cosy for his milk-saucepan, it was clear that he had breakfasted on marmalade.

Stephen you slut indeed.

They go to a party-- a risky proposition, with Jack a wanted man, but Everyone who is Everyone will be there, and he quite simply needs to remind his various powerful acquaintances that he is here and in need. So they go. Diana is there, and also a well-connected, very wealthy merchant named Canning. Canning's merchant ships are very much preyed-upon by privateers-- especially the Bellone-- and he has been commissioning privateers of his own to defend them. He very politely, indirectly goes as far as is decent toward offering Jack the command of the latest of these, which is to be very large and powerful indeed. It is deeply, deeply tempting, and Jack considers it at length, but his ambition above all else lies with the Navy, and Lord Melville is also at the party and tells him he should come the very next day to a meeting, Melville thinks he might have something for him.

Diana also offers to Jack that he might come see her the next day. He points out, sensibly, that he is at risk of arrest, and so it would be deeply irresponsible of him to go jaunting about the city. She scorns him for this, saying he is being a coward to even consider such things as his own personal ruin. She quite openly only wants him if he's willing to ruin himself for her.

Jack goes out for a walk late that night, out in a deserted area, to think. A man tries to mug him and his immediate reflex, honed by kind of a lot of hand-to-hand combat experience, is to just absolutely beat the shit out of the guy in about two blows. He lays him out cold and then, standing over the body, realizes he can't leave the man lying here as it's coming on to freeze and the fellow will die of exposure. So, cursing how complicated everything always has to be on land, he carries the man home, as you do, and ties him to a chair, and promptly falls asleep in the other chair waiting for Stephen, who went to visit other friends after the party.

(Several times in the series it is made plain that Jack has been at sea since he was an actual child, and his understanding of how laws work by land is very extremely fuzzy at best; his education in general is shockingly lacking. He knows the Articles of War cold, could recite them back to front, can cite them by number unfailingly, but only has a vague notion of any other kind of law, and no idea at all how the land-based justice system actually works. And how could he?)

Stephen comes home near dawn to find them thus, Jack asleep in one chair, and the would-be mugger wide awake, terrified, and extremely-competently tied to their only other chair.

The would-be mugger is an excellent plot device: he succinctly and intelligently explains to Stephen and the reader exactly how English debt law works, he himself being extremely experienced in it. (Stephen is gently spooning food into the man's mouth even as he is still tied to the chair, he having admitted he only took up trying to mug people because he had not eaten in several days.) Jack also forces the man to eat some of Jack's own breakfast, under peril of being headed up in a cask and tossed overboard, which makes plain to everyone involved a) how serious he is and b) where he's more normally accustomed to being.

Jack makes his way to the meeting with Melville, who finally offers him a ship. It is not a good ship. Melville actually feels guilty to even offer it. It is called HMS Polychrest, it is a misguided experiment gone wrong, built by a corrupt dockyard to the specifications of an ill-informed landlubber with ideas. But, it has cannons and it technically floats, so Jack takes it.

He's aware that Melville feels like shit about it, though, so he figures he has one, and only one, big concession he can ask for. And he shoots that shot on one, very dear, very precious thing that he very badly wants:

TOM PULLINGS, to be made lieutenant at last, and to serve with him in this misbegotten floating disaster.

I will break off again here because this is too long. Stay tuned for PART THREE, in which I promise I'll tell you how Barret Bonden punches out a cop.

[sunbloomdew]

Tamarack & Qiu about the Forest and the Neighbourhood

Recently I’ve been playing various visual novel games, and I stumbled upon the Our Life series. Needless to say, I am deeply in love with it. While playing the “Our Life: Now & Forever” game demo, I noticed the character’s different opinions about their environment. It’s a simple observation but I really wanted to share it, so here I am!

Depending on which character we meet up with first when we embark on our paper airplane message investigation, they will express their thoughts on the forest and the town.

(I'll be referring to Qiu with he/him pronouns, as these are the ones that are used for this character in childhood!)

Qiu likes the forest, but prefers the town over it. To him that is the centre of activity in Golden Grove.

He says that aside from the seasons changing it's like time doesn't exist in the forest. The fauna and flora there are all the same at all times, and he finds it weird.

I think that because the life in the forest changes in very subtle ways, he doesn't really considers that important. The plants grow but it's not like they move to different spots. They stay in one place, like the path in the forest.

That's why the neighbourhood and the town, where other people live is more appealing to him. It's much easier to notice when something changes in a more lively space, and those developments tend to be more dynamic too, as such they can appear more interesting. Especially for kids. Since their attention span tends to be short, faster occurring shifts capture their attention better.

On the other hand, Tamarack openly expresses her dislike of the town.

To her, the town is the very opposite of fun. The buildings are old and dusty, and the people don't do anything. As she describes it, they sit around all the time.

Tamarack finds the town stagnant and boring because of that. The buildings look the same and stay in one place. You can decorate them, but they are always structures, constructed with a set purpose in mind.

I can't quite understand the meaning behind these words: "Nobody is going anywhere or doing anything. They just live in this place, sit around, and do that forever." If I had to provide an interpretation of those words, I'd say what Tamarack means by them, is that people have assigned roles in the community and certain habits that make it seem like their life are same, unchanging routine. That does not appeal to her in the slightest.

In stark contrast to Qiu, Tamarack considers the forest a place where everything constantly evolves.

She pays attention to the way nature is alive on its own. The tree may not walk around, but it's bark overgrows with lichen and fungi, that spread, or get eaten, or grow sick and die. The animals collect food, branches to build shelter and move from place to place. Those small changes, that occur all the time, forever, fascinate Tamarack.

As she puts it:

I found it interesting how Qiu and Tamarack focus on different signs of life, and are basically opposites in their view of those two places. To Qiu the town is exciting because there is always something going on there with people, but Tamarack thinks they do the same forever. Qiu may see neighbours talk to eachother everyday and find it interesting because they discuss different topics, but to Tamarack, they are just doing the same activity all the time, which is boring. On the contrary, Tamarack thinks the forest is magical in the way it constantly transforms, but Qiu sees it as a place without any sort of changes going on there, which unnerves him. I find those two views of the same spaces really interesting.

Later when the trio walks to school for the first time, Qiu is baffled when Tamarack states that the forest is the only good place around.

(She says that regardless if MC likes or dislikes the woods. If our character likes them, Qiu says the dialogue above. If not, he will say: "Hey, so, it's kind of funny how you like the woods that much." referring to Tamarack alone.)

While they have different opinions on these places, it's nice that they don't argue over it. Would I have expected this to happen? No, but it's still good that it doesn't.

It's not a groundbreaking observation, but I enjoyed thinking about it and writing this post nonetheless. I'm looking foward to learning more about those two! They are both so adorable. I can't wait to become best friends with them <3

Peace out (❁´◡`❁)

[koukaimagines]

Hello!! What do you think of a scenario where a goofy reader goes quiet bc of yoon says something like “can you be serious for one second? I wish you’d just stop!” bc he’s stressed out. Then reader stays quiet for a few hours and the HHB don’t really notice until yoon catches her by herself and realizes she’s crying and was trying to hide she felt bad about it cue clearing misunderstandings and fluff!!

I think that sounds very interesting anon! Thank you for sending this one in! Yoon is so cute and I love writing him. Cue silly squabble followed by fluff! I hope this is good, I'm still a little rusty after prying my way out of writer's block and this is my first time writing a scenario request in a WHILE. But I had so much fun writing him! So once again, thank you! I hope any Yun fans reading enjoy it too.

Side note- I never know how to spell his name. Akayona seems based off of ancient korea with the names at least so Yoon feels right to me but I'm so used to seeing it spelt as Yun! I'll keep to Yoon in the writing for now, but what do you guys think?

Reader pronouns are she/her as used in anon's ask!

word count: 1402

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

Yoon

The past few days have been awfully tense for the Happy Hungry Bunch and the Dark Dragon. Resources have been low and all your faces are fresh in the minds of the Kouka citizens. You’re on the run. Your access to village traders and merchants isn’t as lenient as it used to be— you’re forced to wear your hoods over your heads and keep out of sight.

On guard duty, while you and Yoon weren’t looking, a bundle of herbs was carried off by curious critters into the depths of the forest. Luckily, it was nothing you didn’t have seconds of, but resources being as scarce as they were, it weighed on Yoon’s mind quite heavily. 

“Crap— What were you doing??? That could’ve— ugh—” The young genius clenched his hands into fists as his mind turned upside down, trying to find a solution that didn’t exist. His fists loosened, and he found nothing but the end of his sentence. “That was at least one injury’s worth of herbs. Those plants don't grow around here.” He said, turning his back to you and crouching near his bag. He knew this wasn’t the time for an argument. He himself didn’t quite have the energy for one either.

"Well, at least the animals won’t have to worry about an injury then," you smirk, trying to ease his mind with a cute joke. You smile at the thought of raccoons putting their opposable thumbs to use with a rock somewhere, pounding the weeds the way you see Yoon do so often.

Unfortunately, your joke didn't quite land with him.

“Are you being serious?” He turns to you as he's crouched.

“I dunno, when am I ever?” You chuckle, not noticing how his tone is darker than it usually is when he banters with you. You smile at him in hopes that your expression would make him realize the situation itself wasn’t as dire as he made it out to be.

Yoon’s brows furrowed, and your smile faded. He rapidly shot up from his spot, his beautiful features scrunched in a scowl.

“Well, would it kill you to be serious for once??” He thundered. You blinked, trying to process his tone, why he was so upset— and why at you. His gaze grew more intense at your silence. “This is no time to be joking around! Do you realize that??? We’re already low on resources as it is, and you know with this group, injuries are as inevitable as there are stars in the sky!” 

Yoon bit his lip to try to put a lid on his boiling emotions. This was not the time. He needs to prepare for dinner.

“What’s wrong?” A voice emerges from beyond the tree trunks. Yona hurriedly steps through the beaten path and takes a glance back and forth between your expressions.

“What, are they fighting or something?” Hak strolls in, carrying a stack of twigs in his arm. You stay quiet. You don’t know how to answer that, at least not seriously, you suppose.

“Not really.” Yoon mumbles, turning his back to you once more to sort through the edible flora he’s found throughout the day. “Leave your wood by that trunk, Thunder Beast.” 

Your face feels numb at his answer, and you stare at the small back that never failed to support you and everyone else around him. His words echo in your head as footsteps approach you.

“Are you alright?” A dignified voice addresses you, and you look up to see Kija gazing at you with concern laced in his brow. You force a smile.

“Y-Yeah! Why wouldn’t I be? Yoon and I kinda messed up a bit, that’s all… Some raccoons had their way with some of his herbs.” You mutter, busying yourself by taking some materials the returning group brought back.

Kija eyed you with concern as you set down some dry leaves for kindle, but didn’t pry.

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

The tree branches rustled as the wind carried night across the sky. The fire lapped at the cold air of the season, and dinner was ready. Scooping some soup into some wooden bowls, Yoon bellowed the signal.

“Okay, good work everyone! Dinner’s ready.”

Six bodies crowded around the pot. Yoon raised a brow at the odd void he felt after seeing everyone present— everyone but you.

“Where’s Y/N?”

His question incited many heads to turn and scan the area.

“Ah… come to think of it, she said she’d be going to the bathroom…” Jaeha noted. “Quite some time ago,” he smirked awkwardly, trying to mask his worry as he noted the different colour of the sky now as opposed to when you spoke to him.

Concern began to shape Yoon’s features. “A while ago? Which way did she go?” His heart and mind began to race. His eyes wavered as he stood, and he set the ladle down in the pot filled with a concoction of gruel and herbs. 

“She stepped off somewhere that way. I’ll take Shinah with me, so you can sit tight, Yoon. I’ll bring your little darling back soon.” Jaeha winked. Yoon felt his cheeks warm.

 “She’s not!—” The pretty boy genius cut himself off as he swallowed his pride. This was not the time to fall for Jaeha’s antics. He sifted through the possible fates you might be subject to while his eyes aren’t on you, and a sudden pang hit his chest. At the same moment, Yoon struck an odd realization. 

Were you bothered by what he said earlier? 

Concern started to blur into frustration, annoyance, and guilt. “God… you idiot! What a pain...” He exclaimed under his breath. “Ugh, I’ll look for her! I need to talk to her!” He blurted, hurriedly gathering a few supplies and setting off towards the direction Jaeha pointed in.

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

It didn’t take long for Yoon to find you. You were a little ways out by the river. When he found you, the moonlight kissed your tears as they fell. You were hugging your knees as you watched the steady flow of the stream. The young boy clenched his chest in an attempt to quell an ache he knew he caused.

“Hey, Y/N—” He stepped closer to you, feeling his cheeks warm from the awkward predicament he’s put himself in. He tried to gather the words, but they just didn’t seem to want to come out. “You know, I—”

“I’m sorry,” you managed to say. He held his tongue. His throat felt tight.

That was his line.

“We’re dying just to survive— and I’m making light of things, I’m sorry. You were right.” You muttered through your sleeves as you wiped your disobedient tears. Yoon blinked. That’s not what he wanted to hear, and he was sure that wasn’t not the point you wanted to come to.

“That’s— That’s not it, Y/N, I—” He sighed. He set down his makeshift light source and sat down a ruler’s distance from you. “I’m the one who should be saying sorry. I completely went overboard—” He turned his gaze to the river. “I shouldn’t have raised my voice at you like that.” He balled his hands into fists on his lap as he fretted over you dimming your warm radiance all because of him. As silly as you were, your idiocy kept the group smiling on some of your worst nights— some of his worst nights— and was a warmth that was irreplaceable in his eyes. “We might be dying to survive, but— w-we can afford to spare a few weeds here and there.” He spoke haughtily.

His blue eyes shined as he lifted his gaze. He took a few shy glances at you before mumbling.  

“A-At least the animals won’t have to worry about an injury anymore, right?”

You turned to him in surprise. His cheeks were red and he looked away when you looked at him. A smile creeped on your lips— that one definitely landed for you.

"Yeah. Do you think raccoons would grind the herbs the way you do? They've got opposable thumbs, don't they?"

His eyes widened as his gaze returned to you. Your smile was infectious, and he began to feel its symptoms.

"You idiot." He whispered. "Even if they did, they wouldn't be able to do it half as well as I can."

With that, you both chuckled in each other's company before you made your way back for dinner.

[thefluxsystem]

Plural Music Thread

A thread of songs that are relatable to systemhood 👥

Please feel free to add on!

We are the weirdos

Inflated egos

The filthy misbehaved

The ones you dream of

The ones you can’t shake

We’re living in your brain

These are my friends

These are my friends

I love them

I love them

Sometimes I close my eyes to talk to you

When I can’t make up my mind since you make it up to

One in the same, one in the same, it always felt so real

Lemme hold your hand, hold our hand, so you can feel what I feel

Insane, I'm sure

We're living inside me

Are several girls galore

Once more ignore

I'll wrap me around we

I’m never quite there at all

So I'm putting it all on the table

(Tell em', Pink)

You don't know me well enough to label me, sick, or even disturbed

When you break it down I'm just two girls

Trying to blend, trying to vibe

(I'm trying)

Trying to live just one life

(It’s so hard)

Alright, yes, can we just try to figure this out?

Can we just talk about this please?

Nah, I don't wanna talk to you

Okay, you wanna keep fighting?

Yeah, I wanna keep on fighting

Alright, fair enough

One, two, three, here we go

Having an argument with myself down Queensbury Street

When I wake up, I'm afraid

Somebody else might take my place

When I wake up, I'm afraid

Somebody else might end up being me

Look in the mirror and tell me

What it is like to be free

How do I grasp reality

When I don't have an identity?

Plus I got a lot of cool ones

Up inside my head now

Maybe I should shave the sides and let them out to play

You would probably hate them everybody else does

At least they got something to say

And they got somewhere to stay

Well, you look like yourself

But you're somebody else

Only it ain't on the surface

Well, you talk like yourself

No, I hear someone else though

Now you're making me nervous

[damsels-n-dice]

'til it kills us: the bogeyman

to celebrate the release of v0.3 of my game 'til it kills us, and mark the official beginning of the playtesting phase, i wanted to talk a little more about my process for making this game! we're starting with the playbooks, since they were my favourite part of development and show what makes 'til it kills us so special in my eyes.

i'm going to go over each part of the playbook, talking about the choices i made and the inspirations behind them. this'll include how they tie into other playbooks, and the other mechanics in the game. and, as you can imagine, it's quite long, so i'll be putting all this under the cut so you don't have to scroll past a massive post!

up first is the first playbook -- shadow mages who feed on self-hatred and internalised homophobia to hide themselves from the world:

the name

the first thing you notice with every playlist is its name, which is part of why i had so much fun choosing them! this one originated from me just going to wikipedia and looking at "creatures associated with shadow", but i fell in love with bogeyman as the name. not only are they shadow monsters, but bogeyman also refers to a threat that is both terrifying and often made up! it fits perfectly for a class of character who views themselves as more dangerous than they are.

the abilities

'til it kills us has "abilities" in place of something like d&d's core stats, with each playbook having some it shares with other playbooks and some that are completely unique. the bogeyman has shadow magic, obviously, but most of its other attributes also deal with concealment, secrecy or deception in some way. whispers and stealth for not being scene, deception for lying, and charm and arts to present a trustworthy front. fear is different, in that it represents the bogeyman becoming the monster that they perceive themselves to be, scaring others.

they also have two secondary magic types to choose from -- flora, the magic of self-doubt and distrust, or sound for loneliness. self-doubt and self-hatred go hand-in-hand (how can you trust someone you don't even like?) while loneliness here is meant to represent a few things. perhaps this character literally isolates themselves from the world, or perhaps they feel disconnected from others because of all the secrets they keep. and speaking of secrets...

the power

for the bogeyman, this is called secret-keeper, and allows them to hide in spaces of darkness. not only spooky, but another reference to how this playbook literally and metaphorically hides from the world! there's no other secret meanings to this power to be honest.

the presentations

these are all unique, and represent different ways the bogeyman uses their public persona as a front. as the game itself says, it's all about distraction. some might wear the flashy, wealthy glitz & glamour presentation, while others might attempt to fix their physical flaws through becoming total health nuts. others pretend to be a complete nobody, or completely picture perfect, to avoid close examination.

i wanted to show a few different false personalities that i have found to be more common in fiction or in real life, and (with the health nut) suggest the way this playbook might manifest as specific mental health issues or generally unhealthy behaviours. one presentation that'll definitely be added if i ever expand playbooks is one about toxic positivity, since that feels an easy fit for this playbook!

the motivations

pulled from a common list of motivations shared between all the playbooks, a bogeyman character can have a few different goals to be working towards. i won't spoil these specifically, but they're all about external validation, or centering other people's goals over their own. i wanted to make it clear just how much the bogeyman thinks they deserve, by making even their goals not really about them. this playbook mostly shares goals with others that lack motivation or self-respect, like the self-doubting creeping vines and apathetic greys.

the base feature

as a little optional flavour detail, this doesn't have too much lore behind it! the bogeyman loves to hide and is inherently distrusting, so i gave them somewhere in their home base to hide from the world.

the touchstone

external validation back again! but also, for someone who views themselves as unworthy of love, happiness or success, it felt like the obvious choice of anchor was someone who loved them unconditionally. i imagine a bogeyman's story could very easily centre on realising that their touchstone was right to trust in them all along.

the end

... and that, i think, is everything! the bogeyman also has character progression mechanics, same as every playbook, but those would require a lot of explanation. they're probably best saved for their own post, or for you to read the game yourself! you can check it out with the link included at the top of this post, and feel free to ask me any questions you have about the game or this playbook. i've loved getting to share in more depth the thought process behind making this playbook, and i can't wait to talk about the creeping vine next week -- it's one of the only playbooks i'm considering a rebrand for!

[gmariam321]

I'm sure I've posted this before, since I started it years ago. But I think I can actually finish it now, so here's the beginning. Nothing deep, just a long one shot that puts Ianto and Gwen in quarantine. Because why not? Interesting dynamic, especially set after 'Meat.'

I'll be sure to share when I post it to Ao3! Enjoy!

Sunflowers and Seclusion

"You do know you're not supposed to touch the pretty things either, right?" asked Owen, his white hazmat suit failing to obscure both the tone of his voice and the roll of his eyes. He taped a plaster over Gwen's inner arm and pocketed three vials of blood. "SOP with unidentified flora or fauna in the field, Cooper. Didn't you read the manual?"

"There's a manual for flora and fauna?" Gwen asked. She sounded more upset than annoyed at Owen's rebuke.

"And Merriweather too," Ianto murmured, leaning against the glass outside the large suite where Gwen would be spending her time in quarantine now.

"Ha bloody ha," she said; now she sounded slightly annoyed, though also a bit scared. "You could have stopped me, you know."

"I believe I did say something to the effect of 'Let me get the hazmat gloves and containment box first,'" Ianto replied easily.

"They looked like sunflowers," Gwen replied sullenly. "I like sunflowers."

"A comically large bouquet of bright red sunflowers in the middle of the park didn't raise the 'Don't touch this without gloves' flag?" Ianto asked. Gwen sighed.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I thought they were nice. We never get anything nice from the Rift."

"Maybe you were supposed to think they were nice and pick them up," Tosh piped up from behind Ianto, where she was studying one of their field scanners. "I'm getting some strange preliminary readings from them."

"You're being careful, right Tosh?" Owen turned and asked.

“They’re still upstairs in the box,” she said. “I’ve got a scan running remotely.”

“Good,” Owen replied. "I don't want us all coming down with some strange intergalactic rash."

"Ooh, I had that once," Jack said, appearing behind Tosh. "Found some cute guys with tentacles to rub in some cream and was better in no time."

Gwen blanched, Tosh frowned, and Ianto rolled his eyes. If he had pound for every time Jack talked about tentacles, he could eat at the fanciest seafood restaurant in Cardiff. Owen snorted and turned back to Gwen.

"I've got what I need to start looking into whatever this is." He waved his gloved hand vaguely over Gwen's body. She was wearing shorts and a t-shirt, her arms and legs covered in bright red spots. They were perfectly circular with a pale center, and apparently quite itchy, as she laid down on the and started scratching her arms like mad the moment Owen stepped into the decontamination airlock.

"Maybe it's just hives?" she suggested.

"I don't have any allergies on file for you, though that doesn’t rule it out," Owen said, taking off his helmet in the corridor. "It could be anything— allergies, a fast acting virus, bacteria, even fungus. But I don't think those flowers are quite normal given that you found them after a Rift alert, so we're going to assume your rash isn't normal either."

"Do you have anything for the itching?" she asked. "It's bloody awful."

"The shot I gave you should start to help. I'll bring down some cream once I start some tests running. If it’s not an allergic reaction—and if it’s alien—it might be a while before I have some better answers."

Gwen sighed and laid down, still scratching. "Thanks, Owen. Make it the good stuff, yeah?"

"As long as you don’t go picking alien flowers again," he tossed over his shoulder as he turned to leave. "Hey Tosh, what kind of readings? And can you help me with some of these tests while your scan runs?"

They walked upstairs together, talking quietly. Jack watched Gwen for a moment before turning toward Ianto. "And you're feeling all right?" he asked. "No spots, no itching?"

Ianto shrugged. "Nothing," he said. "At least, not yet. I didn't touch the bouquet, not being much of a flowers man myself, but I did help Gwen to the car."

"So we'll keep an eye on you as well," said Jack. "I doubt it's contagious, as it seems directly linked to the flowers, but you were close when it happened. Let us know if you notice anything."

"I figure I would have by now," Ianto replied. "Considering how quickly it hit Gwen."

"Maybe," said Jack. "But maybe indirect contact takes longer to create a reaction."

"Thank you for the optimistic outlook, sir," Ianto replied with the driest tone he could manage. "If you don't mind, I'm going to start looking through the records for other alien sunflowers that may have fallen through the Rift and infected past agents."

Jack motioned at the door. "After you," he said with a grin. He turned back to Gwen first. "Take it easy and get some rest. We'll figure this out."

She sat up, clearly miserable. "Can I talk to Rhys?" she asked. "We were supposed to work on the wedding tonight."

"I can call him if you like," Ianto said.

"I want to talk to him," Gwen said. "I'm already going stir-crazy in here!"

"You've been here for barely half an hour, Gwen," Jack pointed out. "If you're that freaked out about being in a room by yourself, maybe you need to spend more time alone."

Ianto tried not to roll his eyes. Of course Gwen was going stir-crazy, because, like Jack, she was the kind of person who thrived on the company of others. She liked action and adventure and functioned perfectly well with chaos and noise. Ianto, on the other hand, would love the chance for some peace and quiet in the Hub once in a while—even if it was in quarantine.

"How about I call him first,” Ianto said. “I can tell him what's going on, reassure him you're all right and we're doing everything we can, then bring your mobile. I'm not sure about the signal down here, but if you’re still awake, you can try. Sound all right?"

"Thanks, Ianto."

"You're welcome. Anything else? Some water? Owen says coffee might not be a good idea with the shot." "Shit," she said, falling back down on the bed. "No coffee? Tea, maybe? Isn't that supposed to be calming?"

"I'll see what we have," Ianto replied. "Give me ten minutes."

"Always ten minutes with you," Jack murmured, wagging his eyebrows. Ianto smirked at him. "And counting," he murmured. "Excuse me, sir, work to do."

He headed upstairs to call Rhys Williams and prepare some tea. Jack winked at Gwen and followed, while Gwen sighed, flung her hand over her face, and clearly tried not to cry.

* * *

It wasn't ten minutes later, after Ianto had got off the phone with Rhys and was waiting for Gwen's tea to steep, that he noticed a strange feeling on his hands. Glancing down, he saw several familiar looking red spots dotting both the tops and bottoms of his hand. Mouthing a curse, he took off his suitcoat, rolled up his sleeves, and saw even more covering his arms. And as soon as he saw them, it was as if his mind gave his body permission to start itching like mad.

Suddenly he wanted to rip off the rest of his suit; he understood now why Gwen had insisted on shorts and a t-shirt, as the heavy wool fabric was hot and uncomfortable. Unfortunately, he didn't have anything besides long pants at the Hub at the moment; maybe he could borrow something from Jack. But first he had to let Owen know.

Walking toward the medical bay, he was hit by a wave of dizziness and found himself clinging to the railing as he glanced down at Tosh and Owen running their tests. Taking a deep breath to stop the world from spinning, he cleared his throat.

"Looks like I'll be joining Gwen downstairs," he said, his voice coming out lower than he'd expected. He rubbed the back of his neck. "And I think I'll take one of those shots you gave her as well."

"Shit," said Owen. "Get down there fast, I'll grab my gear and meet you."

"Right." Ianto nodded and turned to leave. He scratched at his arms. "Tosh, can you ask Jack if he has any shorts I can borrow?" he asked. "There is no way I can stay in this suit."

"Of course," Tosh said, looking concerned. "We'll be down right away."

"Quarantine, teaboy," said Owen. "Now." He started gathering supplies while Ianto hurried back to the suite that Torchwood had long ago set up for exactly these situations. Used only for agents compromised in the field by unknown biological agents, it was a large, sealed off chamber with several beds, a table and chairs, and its own bathroom. It was rather like something from a medical thriller, but it did what it was supposed to do even if it looked cliche: kept the pathogens in and the rest of the Hub safe. Assuming Gwen and Ianto hadn't already spread it by making their way through the Hub.

Gwen sat up as Ianto let himself into the chamber without a hazmat suit. "Oh no," she said. "You didn't get it too?"

"Yep," said Ianto, taking off his shirt and tie. He left on his white undershirt and tried not to claw at the red blotches rapidly covering his arms. "So either it's spread through contact or through the air."

"God, if it's through the air, then the entire Hub might be infected!" Gwen exclaimed. "Or the park!"

"We've got procedures in place for this sort of thing," Ianto replied. "I imagine they'll lock down the Hub and go into quarantine mode now to filter out any particles in the air. And if we need to, then we quarantine the park, though we've never done anything that big since I've been here." They'd have to disinfect the SUV as well, and keep an eye out for any reports of the rash spreading beyond the park. It was the worst possible timing, that two of them were in seclusion when there was suddenly so much to do. Jack would almost certainly have to call UNIT if the park was involved, and he always hated that.

Ianto glanced around and claimed the bed opposite from Gwen, then let his elbows fall to his knees, wishing he could rip the itchy trousers off, but not wanting to sit around in his pants with Gwen. He was rather stunned at the ferocity of the rash and how suddenly it appeared. It was exactly as awful as Gwen had said in the SUV as he'd driven them back to the Hub less than an hour earlier: the sudden dizziness, the hot and itchy spots, and increasing fatigue. He only wondered why it had taken longer for him to break out. Perhaps he hadn't contracted it from the flowers directly, but from helping Gwen back to the Hub.

"I'm sorry I picked up the flowers, Ianto," Gwen said quietly. "You wouldn't be stuck in here if I hadn't."

"They were quite pretty," Ianto replied with a shrug. "But you really do need to read the manual."

"Maybe Tosh can find a copy and you can stand over my shoulder and quiz me," Gwen said with a laugh. She scratched at her forearms. "Because I will never, ever touch another plant, flower, or seed in the field again."

Ianto snorted and let his eyes slip closed as a wave of pain and discomfort gripped his legs, causing him to tense. He breathed deeply through his nose to try and resist the urge to scratch.

"It's terrible, isn't it?" she asked quietly. He nodded silently.

"I'm going to scratch myself raw soon," she said. "It's my arms that are bloody awful."

"Legs for me," Ianto replied, lying down to try and calm the unexpected anxiety. What was it that could cause such an intense and quick reaction? Why was it affecting them in different places? Was it alien? Was it fatal? Where were the others?

"You'll need to get those trousers off," she said. "We're all friends, after all." She tried to sound light-hearted, but Ianto could hear the effort.

"I asked Tosh if she could borrow some shorts from Jack," Ianto replied. "Hopefully they’ll appear with the shot Owen is getting ready."

Gwen was silent for a moment, then abruptly giggled. "Jack owns shorts? I don’t believe you. He only ever wears blue trousers!"

"Or black," Ianto pointed out. "Occasionally grey."

"And brown, I think I remember brown." She turned her head toward Ianto. "You'd look good in brown."

Ianto raised an eyebrow. "A brown suit? Seriously?"

"I saw one at Marks and Spencer the other week, it was gorgeous. Rhys doesn't need such a thing, but you could pull it off—tan shirt, burgundy tie…" She trailed off, her eyes slipping closed with a sigh.

Ianto watched her with concern. "You all right?" he asked.

"My arms hurt," she said quietly. "Probably why I'm babbling about suits, I'm trying not to think about it."

Ianto smiled as he stared at the ceiling, wondering where Tosh was with his shorts and Owen with his shot. "There are worse topics of conversation."

There was another pause of silence. "Can't really picture you in shorts either," she said. "Seeing you in jeans is shocking enough."

Ianto laughed quietly to himself. "Believe it or not, I used to be quite the jeans guy. I've got myself a studded belt and everything."

Gwen rolled over onto her side. "Now that is something I'd like to see, Ianto Jones decked out for clubbing! And what about Jack? Does he ever wear jeans? That’s even stranger than him wearing shorts."

Ianto smirked as he thought about the last time he and Jack had gone out. They'd gone to a local pub and played pool, and Jack had looked amazing dressed more casual. He almost said something, but was saved when Tosh, Owen, and Jack all came dashing into the corridor.

"Ianto!" Jack exclaimed. "You just told me you were fine!"

Ianto sighed and sat up. "And ten minutes later I broke out in spots, so clearly I misdiagnosed myself."

"Whatever it is, it's quick and virulent," Owen said. He stepped into the airlock and started pulling on his hazmat suit again. "I want a blood draw to compare with Gwen, and I've got a shot for you, plus lots of cream for you both." Jack waved a pair of shorts and socks and tossed them into the airlock. "Oh, and we get to see your legs. Wonderful."

"I have perfectly fine legs," Ianto protested. "At least when they’re not covered in spots."

"How do you feel besides the rash?" Owen asked as he stepped into the room. "Any other symptoms?"

"It's getting more painful," Gwen said. "And I'm dead tired. Feel like I could sleep for a week if only my brain would stop running in circles."

"That might be the shot," Owen said. He tossed her the cream and walked over to Ianto to start his examination. "How about you?" he asked. "Anything besides the rash?"

"A bit achy," Ianto replied. "Tired. Head's starting to hurt."

Owen stuck a thermometer in his mouth. "Low grade fever. So maybe not an allergic reaction. If it gets worse, I'll give you both something for the fever, but right now I'd rather let your body fight whatever this is on its own before throwing something else at it that could end up making it worse. Speaking of which, give me your arm so I can get some blood."

He did a quick draw, then had Ianto turn around so he could give him a shot in his upper thigh. Gwen giggled and Jack wolf-whistled when he unbuckled his pants enough for Owen to get it in the muscle. Owen grumbled under his breath. Ianto decided his legs itched bad enough that he didn't particularly care about dropping his trousers anymore and stepped out of them. He grabbed Jack's shorts, pulled them on and changed his socks, then collapsed on the bed, the small effort exhausting.

Owen bent over him and started poking at his legs. They were worse than Gwen's, and he flinched as Owen pressed on several large red welts, finally smacking the doctor's hands away as a furious burst of itching commenced.

"Stop it," he muttered. "Hurts enough without you poking it."

"It's blanching," Owen said. "Which is a good sign. Could still be an allergic reaction, which would be a damn odd coincidence if it were earth-based, but not so much if it's alien. So slather some cream on it while we go run some more tests. Call if you need anything."

Gwen was sitting up on the bed, her face pinched. "When is the medicine going to help?" she asked, her voice laced with pain and frustration. She hissed as she started rubbing the cream up and down her arms.

"Depends on what’s causing it,” Owen said with a shrug. "Not much else I can do until I know exactly what to throw at it. I'll be back to check on you in a while and bring a steroid in case it’s worse."

He left the suite and returned upstairs with Tosh. Ianto sat down and rubbed the cream onto his arms and even more on his legs, then laid on the bed, staring at the ceiling, trying his hardest not to scratch and rub them. It was worse than any childhood illness he could remember; he half wondered if adults were in fact weaker than children, as he seemed to recall his niece and nephew going through their fair share of rashes with little complaint. Then again, maybe these things hit adults harder, or they worried about it more while kids kept playing their video games with little thought for things like aliens and death by spots.

"How are you feeling?" Jack asked quietly from the other side of the glass. Ianto sat up, surprised he was still there. Jack was standing close to Ianto's bed, watching him with a look of concern. He tried not to read anything into it.

"Pretty rotten, actually," Ianto said. "Never itched so bad in my life."

"I'm sorry," Jack started, but Ianto stopped him before he could continue.

"What for? It's not like it's your fault."

"I sent you out there," Jack pointed out.

"And did you drop the poisonous sunflowers in the middle of the park?" Ianto asked. When Jack shook his head, Ianto sighed. "Whoever went out there would be in here now—even you, I suspect."

"Yeah, but I could always—"

Again Ianto stopped him. "Don't even say it."

"Sorry."

Something occurred to Ianto, and he glanced over at Gwen, wishing he had a bit of privacy, then stood and walked around his bed over to the glass, turning so his back was to her. Jack moved closer, mirroring him as if he wanted to reach out.

"The…you know…" He tried to give Jack a look, knew it wouldn't work though. "The thing tonight? That we were going to? I won't be able to go. I'm sorry."

Jack frowned as his hand came up to the glass. "I didn't even think about that," he said. "Of course you can't, and don't apologize. We can go another time."

"You could still go," Ianto suggested, though he sort of hated it. "Maybe take Tosh? She'd enjoy it. Not Owen, though, since I'd prefer to have my doctor on call." He offered a smile, but Jack shook his head.

"Of course I'm not going without you. We're all staying here until we know what we're dealing with."

"Lockdown?" Ianto asked.

"Teamwork," Jack replied. His face softened and he smiled. "We'll go another time. I promise."

Ianto sighed. "All right. Sorry I mucked it up."

"You didn't muck anything up," Jack said. "Besides, you're wearing my clothes, and that's a good show too."

Ianto rolled his eyes, then made a motion back toward his bed. "I'm going to go lie down again. Standing is actually quite a chore."

The look of concern reappeared instantly. "Do I need to call Owen?"

"No, let him work on figuring this out," Ianto replied, slowly letting himself back down to the bed. The fatigue was a weight on his shoulders, heavy and overwhelming on top of increasing soreness and stiffness. "The quicker he runs his tests, the faster he can cure it."

"All right. I'm going to poke around the archives and see if I can find anything similar." Jack grinned when Ianto sat up, eyes wide. "I'll be careful, I promise."

"If you make a mess," Ianto said, laying back down. "I'll know it was you."

"And if I find something that helps, you won't care. I'll be back in a while to see how you're doing." He turned to leave, then stepped back. "How're you hanging in there, Gwen? Still awake?"

Gwen opened one eye and offered a crooked grin. "Can't very well sleep through all that, can I?" Ianto groaned, because he knew from that tone of voice—even sick—that as soon as Jack left, she was going to start asking questions. Lots of questions.

"I'll leave you two to it, then," Jack laughed. "Get some rest and call us if you need anything."

Ianto nodded, Gwen waved, and Jack left. Ianto closed his eyes and flung an arm over his face, hoping he gave off the clear impression of trying to sleep.

He heard Gwen turn toward him and imagined the curious look on her face.

"So," she started. "You had plans for tonight."

"So did you," Ianto pointed out without moving his arm. If his voice was muddled, he didn't really care.

"You had plans for tonight with Jack," she said. "Personal plans?" He was silent. "Date-like plans, perhaps?"

"Gwen…"

"Come on, Ianto," she said. "We're stuck here together so we're going to have to talk about something."

"How about the wedding?" he suggested. "How're the plans coming?" She snorted, which finally prompted him to open his eyes. She was laying with her head on her left elbow, her right hand idly scratching at her forearm, red lines streaking her pale skin.

"I know perfectly well you lot are sick of hearing about it," she said. "And that's not what I want to talk about. Do you have a date with Jack tonight?"

"No," Ianto grumbled under his breath. It was true, since he was stuck in quarantine.

"Did you?" she pressed, catching on quicker than usual.

"We…we had plans to meet someone," he admitted. "Piano player. Friend of Jack's."

He saw the look on Gwen's face and huffed in frustration; everyone always assumed that any 'friend' of Jack's was a 'friend' in the sexual sense of the word. But contrary to the image he worked hard to project, Jack did not sleep with everyone he crossed paths with. Yes, he had quite an impressive back catalog—that much he'd admitted was true. He'd also confessed that as the decades wore on, his usual inclinations toward such things started to slow down. Not that he was celibate; far from it. Yet he didn't sleep with nearly as many partners as he liked people to think he did. He said it was fun to keep up the reputation; Ianto suspected the playboy image was as much of a shield as his own suited archivist persona.

"Jack does have friends, Gwen," he said. "Some of whom are even aliens."

"What?" she exclaimed. "What do you mean, alien?"

He turned back toward the ceiling, satisfied that he'd distracted her from her original line of questioning. "Winstead Wallis is a jazz pianist. Second generation Mintoo. His family was stranded here a long time ago. Jack helped them settle, kept in touch with the family, and never slept with any of them. Now Winstead's retiring and playing some of his last shows. So we thought we'd go out and support him."

Gwen was silent for a moment. "On a date."

"Gwen…"

"Ianto," she parroted back.

"Leave it."

Silence.

"Why?"

Ianto turned toward her in surprise. The simple question sounded completely honest, with none of her usual guile, manipulation, or frustrating ignorance.

"Because it's none of your business?" he suggested as dryly as he could so she would get the point.

"If you're going out to meet aliens, that is certainly Torchwood business," Gwen replied. Sometimes she was smarter than she came across; Ianto tried not to roll his eyes.

"Then I’m sorry we didn’t invite you all. We'll plan a team bonding night to go hear the six-fingered alien pianist retire."

"Six fingers?" Gwen asked in surprise. Ianto simply smirked in reply.

"That's not the point,” she huffed. “You're good at deflecting, you know."

"And you don't know when to let something go."

"All I asked was if you were going on a date with Jack."

"And I told you where we were going."

"But not if it was a date."

Ianto sighed and sat up, his head fuzzy. He glanced around the room, trying to find something to distract him from scratching his legs, but there was nothing, so he did, letting his frustration find an outlet. "Why do you want to know? Why do you need to know? Just because there are only five of us working here doesn't mean the expectation of privacy is null and void."

"When two out of five coworkers are dating, the probability of privacy is pretty low!" Gwen said. She sat up as well, hugging her arms to her chest, her face a pinched mask of pain. "Look, Ianto, I'm not trying to pry—"

"Could have fooled me," Ianto muttered.

"But … well, you know how Jack is. He doesn’t seem…well, like the dating type, does he?"

"And you know this how?" Ianto asked, his voice both flat yet pointed. She flushed and waved her hands about.

"I don't, I'm…from the way he talks, the way he acts…" She trailed off with a sigh. "He's clearly a player, Ianto. He's not one to settle down."

Ianto grinned, showing his teeth in that same way Jack did when he was playing the shark. "Who says I want him to settle down? Maybe I don't want to settle down."

Her eyes widened, and he stood up to loosen his tense legs. A quick turn around the room convinced him to return to his bed and lay down again. The silence was uncomfortable, but the effort of walking upright and doing something was almost too much.

"I don't want to see you get hurt," Gwen said quietly. Ianto bit his lip, then released it, and with it the words he'd wanted to say for almost a fortnight came tumbling out.

"Gwen, if that was true, then all those things you said and did when Rhys was here helping with the space whale wouldn't have happened." He waited for the inevitable response of hurt and anger, protestations of defense...

[failed-inspection]

Rain Wold: Notos, an OC lore dump post

Hii hi, so remember that OC ref post I made? Well! Here's all* the information and lore and stuff related to those goobers and the world they reside in, fair warning though, it's gonna be... Extremely long, and the summaries were made as profile summaries in mind, so there's gonna be some repeated info and/or sentences in some character parts, I did my best to make it as easy to read as I could so I hope you enjoy either way!

*Minus Clump because Clump already has their own dedicated post, and is not a part of the Notos universe to begin with and is entirely disconnected from the rest of my Rain World ocs

Starting off, we have the general information!

See, all the Notosverse characters are located in the southern hemisphere equivalent of the world, hence the name, Notos, referring to the south wind (for added context, I imagine the main game/canon takes place around the northern hemisphere) as a result, there are a few differences:

I imagine the south had a little less of an ancient population then the north, meaning less iterators were built there ( for every 3-4 iterators in the north, 1 iterator was built in the south), so the main local group is TINY, consisting of only three iterators, Fewer iterators means that the environment is less caustic, there are longer rain intervals/cycles as a result of less iterator density, allowing more time for some creatures and flora to adapt, so there are areas with much taller and larger plant life adapted to withstand the rain and such (think the outer expansion slug tree type deal but, slightly smaller and more numerous), alongside beaches and tidepools, creating some environments that feel more akin to a subtropical area (thicker/larger flora that almost make up small rainforests, generally warmer) than anything you would see in the north.

Alongside that, I imagine there's also different species! Of course, while there are some familar faces like lantern mice and some lizard variants, there's also creatures like gliding lizards, essentially rain world analogous to real world gliding lizards that hunt from the canopies, and 'whales', massive aquatic opportunistic omnivores that actually evolved from rain deer! (Or at least, creatures similar to rain deer)!

With that out of the way, Here's the cast! Starting off with the iterators, I'll be going in order of iterator > slugcat > not slugcat > ancient

ARRAY OF PASSERINES

Array of Passerines is... A troubled iterator to say the least. To those who don't know him well, or aren't his local group members, he's aloof and cold at best, and irritable and grumpy at worst, at a glance, it wouldn't be unreasonable to think he just has an attitude problem!

From the moment of his creation, if not even before that, he was put on a pedestal by his citizens, worshipped, even, they'd sing their praises about how he's their holy creation, a testament to how much they can accomplish... Despite that, you'd rarely find AoP having any nice things to say about them, one must wonder, why would he be so annoyed towards his ancients if they viewed him so highly and treated him like a god? His name and puppet's design were made to invoke the imagery of the mighty Miros Vulture, which his colony had considered a sacred symbol, a creature above all, so powerful and foreboding, built only to serve the hands that had built it... Just like the iterator.

Underneath the facade of praise and worship, Array of Passerines' citizens really saw him more as something to brag about, a symbol of their own greatness, their own religious and scientific marvels given form! He was their creation first and foremost, a great iterator that towered above all, tall and foreboding, built only to serve the hands that built it.He was never allowed to stray once from their heavily idealized version of himself, voice an opinion they disagreed with? No. Not like their countless, yet ultimately shallow offerings that are usually given in hopes of having something in return? Nope. never. Oh! How they'd turn their noses up whenever he couldn't do every single little request they wanted, no matter how mundane it was, or how rude they were!The incident with Interpolated Assemblies did not help either, how the moment it was convenient, the citizens of a local group member, his friend, turned on her and hurt her both severely and permanently... To Array of Passerines, this only further proved to him that the ancients are selfish, only caring about the iterators when they were useful to them, how could you dare to say you see us as divine when you're so willing to discard of us the moment we're an inconvenience to you?

Later down the line, His lead creator, Grandmaster, and father figure, Feathered Crests Atop Ivory Wings, echoed in a botched attempt to ascend, forever trapping him apon AoP's city, much to AoP's dismay, he's still able to communicate, more often than not bothering him with the same nonsense he always had, Array of Passerines has made it a goal to find a way to undo being echoed as a result.

Unfortunately, it seems like he can't catch much of a break, many cycles later down the line, a strange little slugcat had found it's way into his structure, and saw his neurons as a tasty treat, while a single slugcat running amok and eating whatever neurons it can get its sluggy little hands on isn't nearly enough to cause any major, or even significant, damage to an iterator, it is still very irritating to feel one scamper around your insides, probably.

Aloof as he could be, AoP does really care for his fellow iterators, especially those in his local group, immensely, even if he does struggle to express it. He isn't quite used to being shown genuine affection, or interest in himself as a person, rather than a larger than life godly figure, but he does truly appreciate such things.

INTERPOLATED ASSEMBLIES

Soft-spoken and gentle, but highly neurotic these days, Interpolated Assemblies is known to be the mediator type, both for her local group and her fellow citizens, she'd do whatever she could to be there for someone, wether it be a shoulder to cry on, or someone to seek advice from, while this may sound great at first, her desire to help everyone often took on the form of a lack of boundaries.

however, back when the ancients were around, a crisis would strike, unknown to everyone at the time, shifting fault lines underneath IA's superstructure had caused the groundwater to shift away from her pipes, while there was still just about enough groundwater to keep her functioning normally without the risk of slag build up or dehydration, it was still the absolute bare minimum, there was very little to be spared for the citizens that lived atop her city. Interpolated Assemblies unfortunately, had no control or say over the matter, if she were to lower her water intake any further, she'd be at major risk of slag buildup, during this time, her two grandmasters, Cumulonimbus Clouds, Hung Overhead, and Thirteen Branches Among Creeping Vines, would come down to her chamber to discuss solutions, only to leave disappointed when she had no answers.

As the cycles passed, and the situation grew more dire, so did the tensity between the two grandmasters. Vines inisted they continued allocating as much water as possible to IA's processes despite the shortage they're facing, as they believed neglecting the needs of the iterator would be akin to biting the hand that fed them.

Nimbus, extremely frustrated with how Vines' seemed to prioritize the well being of a machine over their own people, had decided to take matters in her own hands, with several devoted followers lead by her, she formed a riot, they stormed into the structure of Interpolated Assemblies, and began wrecking her from the inside, damaging several important components of the superstructure in the process. Nimbus had hoped for this to serve as both a wake-up call and reminder as to where, in her perception, the priorities should be, and as a way to hopefully reduce the water intake required by the iterator to allow some to be allocated to the city.

Unfortunately, the components damaged were mainly her Synthesis Modules, the components required to produce purposed organisms within the iterator's structures, such as inspectors, and most other biological iterator components.

Shortly after the aftermath, the cause of the water shortage had been discovered and repairs began, alongside attempts at repairing the components damaged, while they were restored enough to be operational, they were still badly damaged, and have never been able to be fully repaired before the Global Ascension of the ancients. This means Interpolated Assemblies' biological iterator components tend to come out... pretty badly formed, to say the least, which has left her riddled with constant discomfort, general pain, an inability to purpose creatures (at least without them coming out horrifically malformed), and much less control over what happens in her own structure due to inspectors and other critters not being able to do their job and send out their signals as efficiently.

Her physical health wasn't the only thing to be affected by the incident, while Assemblies had always been quite meek, she had ended up becoming a lot more anxious and nervous as a result.

These days, she prefers to sit on the floor of her chamber, rather than float around. Occasionally picking and tearing at her sleeve fabric as a result of a habit she formed. To this day she blames herself for what had transpired during the water shortage, believing that had she been able to be better at mediating the tensions between her two Grandmasters, none of this would have happened.unknown to her, a certain little adventurer had recently taken an interest to her can, and the strange hydras that lurk inside it... (By the way, I actually made a mod that adds her malformed inspectors into the game! Feel free to check it out!)

PIERCING DEPTHS

Surprisingly light-hearted for an iterator, to say Piercing Depths is an extrovert would be an understatement, no doubt about it, you'd you'de more often than not find them inside numerous group chats back when broadcasts were functioning, it'd make you winder, how did they ever spare time to work on The Great Problem?

To answer that question, they didn't, specifically, Piercing Depths didn't really care to work on The Great Problem, as they never saw the appeal of ascension to begin with, if you were to ask them about the matter, they'd have this to say:

"I never understood it, I know it's meant to be in my nature to find a solution, but I can't say I have any desire to. Ascension means to disappear from the physical plane, by doing so means giving up feeling, experiencing, learning, moving, all the joys that come with *existing*, and what good would that be? seems like a terrible trade, giving up everything I know and love just to ascend and be nothing, what's the point in that?"

Of course, that sentiment obviously isn't one shared with everyone, and they did get the occasional "stop lounging in the broadcasts and get back to work" talk from their peers.

When the broadcasts decayed, Piercing Depths began to feel horribly isolated, they began to write journal notes on pearls in an effort to pass the time, eventually, however, they came up with an idea, why not purpose their own companion?

This led to the creation of Wavering Droplets (Aka The Companion); a friendly hybrid between a blue and orange lizard that in all honesty, is essentially a reptilian golden retriever, they were even given the mark of communication!

Wavering Droplets would become Piercing Depths' best friend, every cycle, being allowed out of the can to hunt and explore but always returning to their chamber at the cycle's end.One cycle, however, they failed to return, and Piercing Depths began to get deathly worried, fearing the worst had happened, did they get killed? Eaten? Did they fall off the structure!?

Sending an overseer to patrol the area, they eventually discovered Companion alive and well, hanging out with a slugcat, once they had confirmed their beloved friend's safety... They still could not help but worry, fearing they would eventually forget about them and never return. To Pierce, Droplets was precious and irreplaceable, they couldn't bear to think of that possiblity.

THE LUMINAL

"An abnormality long dormant has awoken deep within, and your presence casts light upon every surface it graces, however, with such a high energy output, your body demands an equally high intake, make haste, and consume all that illuminates"

A strange little slugcat that constantly glows, requiring a steady high energy intake, one could only imagine that Luminal had been created by a fellow iterator for one reason or another.

That isn't the case, at least not entirely. No one had created them, they were just born that way to a colony of wild slugcats. Rather, it was their ancestors who had been purposed, the original line of lantern slugcats had existed even back during ancient times, created by splicing lantern mouse genes into slugcats to bring light in dark mining facilities, once mass ascension had taken place, they'd managed to find their way into the wild, and mixed with the feral slugcat population, eventually breeding out their ability to glow and leaving only a few vestigial spots and the occasional ear pattern, it seems like this is a strange case of an Atavism!

Alongside their natural glow, Luminal has the ability to flashbang enemies as a means of self defense, sacrificing a great deal of energy in doing so. Unfortunately, slugcat bodies were never equipped to output so much energy in the first place, they need to eat as much energy as they lose, typically in the form of eating light sources.

At one point, they had managed to find their way into Array of Passerines' can, and while it has no idea about the fact it had wandered into something that is alive, with all the brilliantly glowing neuron flies swarming around, they essentially found themselves an all you can eat buffet, a single slugcat running amok and eating whatever neurons it can get its sluggy little hands on isn't nearly enough to cause any major, or even significant, damage to an iterator, it is still very irritating to feel one scamper around your insides, and that's not even mentioning how wreckless it can be, from frequently agitating his inspectors to even tearing off and wearing a coral neuron, much to AoP's dismay... He wants that beast to get out.

Mechanics

Honestly their stats are all over the place, a little lighter weight than the average scug, abysmal stealth stats (since they do glow all the time), probably slightly speedier

Pips: •••••••|•••, survivor diet for the most part (save for being able to eat lantern mice), but the amount of food they get from an object entirely depends on how luminescent it is

- Blue fruit + most other none glowing foodstuff gives 1/4 a pip

- Popcorn plants give 1/2 a pip

- mushrooms, centipedes (due to their electricity), Karma flowers, and lilypucks give 1 pip

- Neuron flies, glow weed, and slime mold give two pips

- Lantern mice give 5 pips

- Lanterns and flarebombs can be eaten, and give 10 whole pips

By pressing Jump + up, you can release a flashbang, which not only temporarily blinds enemies, but has a small knockback effect, doing so drains three food pips, so use wisely

THE PIONEER

"A curious beast who finds joy in uncovering the wonders of your world, will you get one step closer to understanding the true nature of what lies above, or will everything you thought you knew about the Monoliths fall apart?"

A slugcat who, true to their name, is a natural born explorer, they frequently leave their colony for cycles at a time, and comes back with plenty of stories to share! Unfortunately, the world view of a slugcat is quite limited, they are an animal, after all, so not everything they think they know is necessarily the truth.

At one point, far before the events of their campaign, they had been grabbed by a vulture, luckily, a characteristic shared by their subspecies, known as ridgeback slugcats, is their waxy tail skirt, while this tail skirt is primarily used to navigate rocky tidal areas more easily, it doubles as a means of defence, allowing one to more easily escape predators, the resulting fall resulted in them damaging the cartilage of one of their ears, leaving it permanently lopsided, though they made a full recovery other than that.

Shortly Before the events of their campaign, they had managed to sneak their way into the can of Interpolated Assemblies during one of their adventures, and what a sight to behold it was, strange long creatures floated around, turning aggressive the moment they spotted them, they needed to get out fast!

Upon returning to their colony, Pioneer excitedly told their fellow slugcats about their newest discovery, they had found the source of the rain! Massive flying serpents, sometimes with multiple heads, that lived in a huge den above the clouds, those serpents must be responsible for the rain!

Their campaign is them going on a journey to return to that strange structure in an effort to learn more about what exactly is going on, perhaps they'll find out more than they'd ever thought possible.

(Pioneer had never met Interpolated Assemblies' puppet before their campaign story, so they have no idea that the structure they're wandering in is in fact alive, and those 'serpents' are simply the white blood cells for a much larger creature... At least for now!)

Mechanics

- generally has similar base stats to survivor, albeit a slightly longer breath timer

- Pip count: ••••|•••, survivor diet

- Waxy Tailskirt makes it easier to escape creature grasps, press jump to escape a creature bite, however, the wax does wear down each time you're caught, so this ability can only be used a finite amount of times per cycle, the first time requires you to press jump three times, the second time requires you to press jump 6 times, and the third time will require you to press 10 times, with added exhaustion for three seconds, afterwards, you will not be able to get out of creature grasps for the rest of the cycle, so be careful, alongside that, your chances of being killed to a bite are lower on those three chances (though the chances do increase until they reach the usual chances with each time you escape)

- the wax also makes it so that your slides and slide pounces are able to cover more distance

- your map has different graphics that look more akin to something hand drawn, you also have some region maps already covered for you as well, woohoo!

THE POET

"An unusually secluded member of your kind, you find companionship in what would normally consider you as prey, perhaps the bonds you forge will pave a path towards something you never could have imagined."

Poet is quite the critter, it's not uncommon to see them hanging around, feeding, or even playing with lizards, they appear to have an unusual affinity with them, seeing them much more as friends than foe, despite what their friendly title and behavior towards lizards would suggest, they aren't a complete pacifist, in fact, they have gained quite the negative reputation between squidcadas and other creatures, the reason? They have no issue hunting them down to feed their scaly friends.

One cycle, they had encountered a strange, but badly injured lizard, rushing to action, Poet took them to the nearest shelter, and began nursing them back to health, the two would become inseparable ever since, and so begins a journey together, as something beckons their newfound friend home...

Mechanics

- For the most part, they have the base stats of survivor, albeit with a lower jump height

- ••••|•••, survivor diet, but gains half a pip more from eating from plant matter

- extremely high reputation with lizards, but low reputation with every other creature that uses the reputation system.

- For the most part, Poet themselves doesn't have any unique mechanics, their true mechanics come from their tamed lizard friend, The Companion!

- by pressing grab, you're able to ride the companion, doing so essentially gives you safari mode control over them (arrows to move, jump to use toungue, throw to hiss, and pickup to bite), pressing grab + throw let's you get off of them, thanks to their blue lizard genes, they're able to climb walls, which is especially useful given Poet's limited jump height, alongside having a blue lizard tongue, when you're not riding them, they will follow you and attempt to protect you from threats

- unfortunately, The Companion has some drawbacks as well, you will be unable to grab items while riding them, and similarly to slugpups, they have their own food bar ••|•, and must be fed every cycle, alongside that, they have the same health as a blue lizard (albeit this health is regenerated every cycle), due to their yellow lizard genetics, being near yellow lizard packs can cause them to turn on you, as they struggle to resist their signals, so care must be taken.

THE COMPANION (AKA WAVERING DROPLETS)

As would be suggested by their title, The Companion, or their true name, Wavering Droplets, was well... Created for the sake of companionship! Made by Piercing Depths, They're essentially a golden retriever in lizard form, bearing both the genetics of blue and yellow lizards, blue for their relatively less dangerous natures and ability to climb walls, and yellows for their intelligence and fantastic location memory.

Each cycle, Piercing Depths would allow them to leave their structure, after all, a lizard does need to hunt and run, at the end of each cycle, they would return to Pierce's can, typically sleeping next to and enjoying being pet by them.

One cycle, however, disaster struck, during one of their hunting sessions, Companion had fallen off the lower ends of one of the structure's legs, while they thankfully fell at a survivable height, or at least something had managed to cushion their fall. They still had gotten severely injured, to the point of being unable to properly move, had they been left in that state, it would have been likely that either a predator would have considered them an easy meal, or the rain could have drowned them.

Thankfully, neither would be the case, as a certain lizard loving slugcat would find them in just the nick of time. They would take them to shelter, and nurse to them back to health, from feeding them to tending to their injuries, the two would become inseparable ever since.

Unfortunately, being a hybrid has its drawbacks, Companion doesn't have much health, being only a little stronger than a yellow lizard, alongside that, the two 'ears" that they bear are in fact, small, but still semi functional antennae, As a result of their Orange lizard genetics, The Companion struggles to resist signals sent out by Orange lizards to alert members of their packs.

Piercing Depths began to get deathly worried, fearing the worst had happened to their beloved scaly friend, and sent an overseer to patrol the area, they eventually discovered Companion alive and well, hanging out with The Poet, once they had confirmed their safety... They still could not help but worry, fearing they would eventually forget about them and never return. To Pierce, Droplets was precious and irreplaceable, they couldn't bear to think of that possiblity.

FEATHERED CRESTS ATOP IVORY WINGS

"What have we here?

A clueless beast, so simple and frail, wandering atop the roof of my Legacy.

Tell me, little mouse, would your soul fill with awe if I were to tell you that the metal you tread on is breathing? would you think that the hands that had built this god are in fact, mighter than their own creation?

And yet, he has the audacity to disrespect those who had given him this gift of giving.

Fool! It is a creation's birthright to serve its creators!"

While there is no doubt that Feathered Crests Atop Ivory Wings has a brilliant mind, Being both the lead creator of the Array of Passerines iterator project, and the grandmaster of his city prior to becoming an echo, a brilliant mind unfortunately does not necessarily mean a humble soul, his accomplishments had always been fuel for his ego, being one to boast about his greatness, afterall, he's the one to have been behind the creation of an iterator! He's the one to rule a city! How could he not!?

This pompousness, however, would soon get the better of him, in a botched attempt to ascend using a void fluid bath, Crests would become an echo, permanently trapped inside Array of Passerines' city, despite this, he'd still be capable of communicating and making his presence known to the Iterator, much to Array of Passerines' dismay, leading to AoP trying to figure out a way to undo the echoing process, to have Crests truly be able to ascend... To finally get rid of him.

See, Array of Passerines had never been fond of his father figure, Crests had always used his existence and creation as a way to boast about himself, but had also expected Passerines to agree with him on everything without question or doubt, or immediately do any task requested of him, no matter how mundane or time wasting, with Crests quickly becoming angry whenever he'd fail to do so, scolding him for 'being ungrateful to his creators.'

CUMULONIMBUS CLOUDS, HUNG OVERHEAD

"our true kin are suffering for the sake of this construct."

Blunt, yet noble and determined, there is a lot to say about Nimbus.

Having grown up her whole life on the city atop Interpolated Assemblies, the iterator was simply seen as a part of life to most, from visiting her puppet since she was little, to more often than not, catching glimpses of her overseers around.

In all honesty, She always felt it a bit unnerved by their watchful eyes. She must admit, her faith in the iterators had always been a little skewed, something about how people would be so quick to place their faith in them felt off, and she often found herself asking many questions in her mind; is there a reason why we must treat our tools as holy? As an equal or even above us? Why must we devote ourselves to it so blindly?

she'd begin to study politics In her formative years, and later, had ended up becoming one of the Grandmasters of cabinet, alongside Thirteen Branches Among Creeping Vines, now a leader, she hoped to ensure the best future she could for her people.

Eventually however, a crisis struck, unbeknownst to everyone at the time, shifting fault lines underneath IA's superstructure had caused the groundwater to shift away from her pipes, while there was still just about enough groundwater to keep Interpolated Assemblies functioning normally without the risk of slag build up or dehydration, it was still the absolute bare minimum, there was very little to be spared for the citizens that lived atop her city.

Despite that, Vines inisted that they continued allocating as much water as possible to IA's processes despite the shortage they're facing, as they believed neglecting the needs of the iterator would be akin to biting the hand that fed them.

Frustrated with how Vines' seemed to prioritize the well being of a machine over their own people, Nimbus had decided to take matters in her own hands, with several devoted followers lead by her, she formed a riot, they stormed into the structure of Interpolated Assemblies, and began wrecking her from the inside, damaging several important components of the superstructure in the process. Nimbus had hoped for this to serve as both a wake-up call and reminder as to where, in her perception, the priorities should be, and as a way to hopefully reduce the water intake required by the iterator to allow some to be allocated to the city.

In the aftermath of her protest, Nimbus' actions had been declared sacrilegious and deplorable, she had been stripped of her title, and exiled to the lands below. After all, why should you have the privilege to live atop our iterator if you're so willing to break her apart!?

What became of her fate afterwards however, remains unknown, whether she lived out the rest of her life as a nomad among the rain, or had become an echo, a victim of the fith karmic urge, is anyone's guess, but one thing is for certain, the aftermath of her legacy continues to haunt Interpolated Assemblies' depths to this day.

THIRTEEN BRANCHES AMONG CREEPING VINES

"Do not let your arrogance blind you to the realities of our dependence!"

Devoted and levelheaded, Thirteen Branches among Creeping Vines was a Monk-turned Grandmaster who lived atop the city of Interpolated Assemblies, working alongside Cumulonimbus Clouds, Hung Overhead.

With a sense of faith as unfaltering as their decisions, and more often than not, the former affecting the latter, while they weren't particularly aggressive in their reign, for better or for worse, they are not one to be so swayed easily.

Vines was always devoted to spirituality, having originally been a monk since they were a young adult, before being elected to become a Grandmaster Of Cabinet, even after this drastic shift in position, Vines did their best to remain humble, and continued working toward their path to enlightenment.

Eventually however, a crisis struck, unbeknownst to everyone at the time, shifting fault lines underneath IA's superstructure had caused the groundwater to shift away from her pipes, while there was still just about enough groundwater to keep Interpolated Assemblies functioning normally without the risk of slag build up or dehydration, it was still the absolute bare minimum, there was very little to be spared for the citizens that lived atop her city.

Despite that, Vines inisted that they continued allocating as much water as possible to IA's processes despite the shortage they're facing, as they believed neglecting the needs of the iterator would be akin to biting the hand that fed them.

Vines' stubbornness on the matter led Nimbus to take matters into her own hands, with several devoted followers lead by her, she formed a riot, they stormed into the structure of Interpolated Assemblies, and began wrecking her from the inside, damaging several important components of the superstructure in the process.

In the aftermath of her protest, Nimbus' actions had been declared sacrilegious and deplorable, she had been stripped of her title, and exiled to the lands below. After Nimbus' exilement, Vines became the sole grandmaster of Interpolated Assemblies' city, being the one to order and overlook her repairs up until The Great Ascension. What became of them after the fact however, remains unclear, though it is likely that they did manage to successfully ascend.

[happypoppyhaha]

Self-made hellhole

"Sir, I'm leaving soon...I don't need anybody to support me if I'm going to live alone again. I'm not that disabled or unhinged..."

*Sitting on a paper sheet bed, looking tried and annoyed at yourself and at the situation, you put yourself in. This isn't the first time you pulled yourself into something like this. Making it regrettable all over again.*

"I understand but your records show how much you called the hotlines for help every time your PTSD is triggered, I can't trust your words this time. I'll send a caretaker for you. This is going to be repetitive enough for you to be sent to the Asylum, I don't want that for you. You came back four times, they're keeping notes on you and will take action if this happens again."

*You signed and put your head down, knowing your doctor is right. So you didn't argue and nod your head, accepting a caretaker will have contact and access to you.*

"Fine...what's their name and when will they be coming? Are they safe to be trusted alone with?"

*Your doctor looks at his computer to see any person is available, his eyes widen and smiles before looking at you.*

"His name is Ymir Floras. He will be coming tomorrow morning. At 10 o'clock. Don't worry, he's a good caretaker, you'll get along with him just fine like everybody else who said positive things about him, okay? He's a friend of mine."

*You didn't know this person but he informed you he's not bad and a friend. Since your doctor is saying he's good then he's good...No need to worry that a man will be your caretaker... right?*

"Okay, can I get my stuff now? Sorry, if I'm being impatient but I really want to get out of here and enjoy being outside with unlimited freedom."

*He laughs and shrugged, not being offended by it.*

"Okay, I'll make it fast."

*He returns the stuff in a bag that the people took from you before entering the mental hospital. You got all your jewelry back, f/c earrings, f/c bracelets, f/c necklaces, f/c shoes, f/c socks that suit your taste with matching your f/c clothes you wore before you need to take off the clothes that the people making you have on right now.*

"Before you go ahead and change. I want you to sign this paper, saying you're agreeing with the terms of having a caretaker and sign here saying you understand if you come back you will be sent into a different program, Asylum."

*He said it twice just to remind you how serious it is, you're feeling gullible as you watch him handing you a pen to sign, you took it and started writing your initials on it in cursive you gave the pen back and grab your stuff that was in a bag ahead to the bathroom to change.*

"Fuck...why don't I ever learn? God...this gotta be one of my habits... Thinking it will be a one time thing just to fuck myself all over again because I can't get myself to reach proper help, convincing myself I don't need it...."

*You talk to yourself while undressing in front of the mirror where the sink is placed. Taking off the clothes and folding them up before placing them in a bag. Now, wearing your shoes and clothes while putting all your jewelry on making sure you're looking cute in the mirror before leaving.*

"Here's the clothes and thank you."

*You closed the bathroom door behind  you and put the bagged clothes on the sheet bed while he was typing something on his computer.*

"Thank you for returning it and have a good day, remember don't come back here, y/n."

"Got it."

*His last words make your skin crawl, "Asylum" Oh God, you don't even want to hear it anymore. So you quickly walked out of his office and let the people who were waiting to escort you out of the building to the exit. They waved goodbye with a smile on their face as you walked to your car and drove off.*

"I need to get my life together, I can't keep breaking like this...I don't know if having a caretaker will help my problems out...but I'll take it. It's better than nothing..."

[fxchild]

The Switch

Miles Fairchild x fem! Reader

Chapter six: change of heart

Your POV

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I woke up from my sleep pretty early at 5:30 this morning. I remember I didn't really get to plan last night for today's lesson so I decided to spend around an hour doing that. Today we would be doing history so I had to gather a lot of information which took forever. After I decided to get ready because it was almost time for Flora's lesson. I dressed in a long sleeve red shirt with jeans and black shoes. I put my hair up away from my face and headed downstairs.

When I walked into the room I saw Miles reading to Flora. I smiled at how nice it was and put my stuff down on my desk. Miles acknowledged me and tapped Flora's shoulder to point to me. I hugged Flora good morning and walked over to Miles.

"Morning Miles.. what're you reading?" I ask as he turns the cover towards me. "Laura Ingles Wilder? You're into Little House On The Prairie?" I playfully shove his shoulder with a surprised look on my face.

"I mean Flora picked it out, but it's cool." Miles shrugs but smiles at the book.

An hour into Flora's lesson I can tell she's getting restless and needs to get up and move around. Miles is in his room and I decided I wanted to see if he was going to leave or not.

"Hey Flora, let's take a fifteen minute break okay? I'll be back." I say as I go to find Miles letting Flora play with her toys.

"Hey Miles?" I say through the door as I knock on it. I hear a faint 'hm?' "Can I come in? I wanna speak with you." Miles opens the door, nodding his head to the side as a gesture to come in. I walk in and see a small suitcase on his bed. "So..you're leaving again?" I saw looking at the suitcase sadly.

"Actually, no. I was just putting my stuff away." He smiles as he looks at me raising an eyebrow.

"Wait really?" I looked at him with a snap of my neck shocked. "You're staying?!" I let out a happy breath.

"Yeah I mean, I'd feel bad leaving Flora after just coming back. Plus by the time I came back you probably would have been gone. You know, summer." He sighs putting his hands in his pant pockets.

"Why? Do you want me to stay for summer?" I joke looking back at the suitcase.

"I mean..I wouldn't be opposed..?" Miles says shrugging looking at me again with a curved sly smile on his face.

"Oh really now? Thanks for the offer Fairchild, I'll think on it.." I smile at him and walk out of the room closing the door.

'Does he really want me to stay?! Holy shit holy shit!' I yell in my head walking back to Flora's study.

A few hours later I heard the guitar coming from Miles room. The door was already open so I leaned on the door frame waiting for him to notice me. He stops playing when he can't get a chord right. "Fuck.." he whispers in frustration.

"That was really good Miles. You play?" I ask walking into the room. He turns around surprised I was listening in and puts the guitar down.

"Um, yeah..How long were you standing there?" He asks chuckling out his words.

I sit next to him on his bed with my hands on my knees. "Not long. A minute or two maybe?" I saw shrugging trying to act cool. "So, how long you been playing?" I tilt my head to the side trying to start a conversation with him.

"Um for a few- four years." He spurts out quickly figeting with his thumbs.

"Oh that's nice. You know Miles I'm really glad you'd decided to stay. Flora really loves you- of course you already know that but.." I trail off for a moment, "Flora needs a big brother and you're probably the best one I've seen..and I don't know how hard it's been without your parents but when you leave, Flora is stuck with Ms. Grose and she won't live forever. She needs a guardian, not just a nanny or a teacher. She trusts you more than she'll ever trust me or Ms. Grose. And I think that if we work together I can teach you how to take care of her, when Ms. Grose passes?" I say turning towards him nervously pitching her idea for Miles. He turns his head to look at me and slowly nods his head. I smile and hug him while we're still sitting.

"Thank you for understanding Miles, really this means a lot." I give him a more genuine smile. He starts nodding his head a little faster as his eyes dart from my nose to my eyes. I pretend not to notice his breathing getting heavier. I start to admire his features. His nose, half lidded eyes and slight dimples. I stare at his lips and how they are barely parted and a little cracked.

Suddenly we hear someone clear their throat as we turn around suddenly I roll my eyes to see it's Ms. Grose standing behind us. "Um- wash up..f-for dinner." She studders looking around the room before quickly walking out. I sigh as I get up to go to the dining room.

"You coming?" I ask jerking my head smiling.

"Yeah in um- in a minute.." he says rubbing his hands on his jeans nodding his head.

I head out to the dining room and sit down. A few minutes later Miles comes in the room breathing hard like he ran a lap around the house. He sits across from me and we all start to eat. Around 10 minutes into dinner Ms. Grose speaks.

"So Miles, I packed your bag. You're ready to leave tomorrow." She says giving him a smile and me a nasty look. "What?!" Flora cries as she throws a fit in her seat.

I dart a look at Miles that says 'what the fuck is she talking about?!' He looks at me nervously, not being able to find words. I scoff as I throw my napkin onto my plate getting out of my chair walking off fast.

Miles chases me down the hall yelling, "Y/n! Y/N! Will you stop for a fucking second and listen to me?!" He shouts as he grabs my wrist turning me around.

"What the hell is wrong with you? You told me you were staying! How selfish are you?" I say angrily in his face.

"Selfish? Do you know how hard it is to be me AND take care of Flora? Plus the house?!" He yells letting go of my wrist now, pointing in the direction of the dining room.

"Flora needs a brother Miles! Not someone who runs off every other week because he can't hold a god damn responsibility!" I point in the same direction he is pointing gritting my teeth.

"It's too complicated for you to understand! You don't know what it's like Y/n!" He says yelling in my face taking a step closer to me.

"Oh yeah, because it's soo complicated to see that Flora needs love from somebody!" I say sarcastically and exaggerate. "You know what? Leave, stay, I don't give two shits! I'm not the one being affected." I shout.

"Yeah well it seems like you are." He snaps at me crossing his arms.

"Flora." I say looking him dead in the eyes. "Flora fucking loves you. But Miles you are cold." I speak quietly on the verge of tears.

"You don't even make sense-" I cut him off.

"You Miles! You are cold! Your shoulder is cold, your heart is cold, your smile is cold! You close everyone out and Flora may be too young to understand now but wait a few years and you'll see a quick change." I say with a tear running down my cheek as I walk away fast to my room slamming my door and crying into my pillow.

I hope he's upset. I hope he hates himself. I hate him.

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The next day I woke up in the same outfit from last night. I was angry and didn't want to get up but I knew I had to. I dressed in shorts and a sweatshirt. I decided I didn't want to make the situation worse by ignoring Miles, so I went to his room to apologize. When I walked in I noticed he was not there and neither was his suitcase. "Fuck.." I murmured to myself knowing the things I said last night caused him to leave. As I walk around the rest of the house I realize he's gone and we don't know when he's coming back. It's only February now, I don't leave until the end of June, maybe he'll come back while I'm still here?

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Hi guys so I know it's been a lot more than 3-5 days and I apologize for that! I've had work and I jus started school up. Plus I had no ideas for this chapter so I was trying to brainstorm a lot. I hope you guys liked this chapter!!