#I imagine this happening in the tree somehow don’t think too hard about this

[katisbadatnames]

Yeah this is exactly what happened

hello isat fandom I have arrived!

please accept this humble offering

[thedilfdiaries]

You found me

arthur morgan x f!reader || 1.8k

Summary: A routine trip into the woods for herbs turns violent when a coyote attack leaves you injured and alone. But Arthur finds you, and everything changes.

Warnings: just a lil fluff, Arthur fixing reader, animal attack, drawn out tension between the characters

Notes: This is a very secret spy mission I was on tonight for @thundermartini . this is just a tiny thing to say thank you for being the best of the best, for always cheering me on, for being the bees knees, the cats meow, you are truly one of a kind baby and I love you so much 💖🫂🫶🏼 anywayyyyyyyy I hope you enjoy

Masterlist

You’ve spent so much time in the woods that the rustling of the trees usually comforts you. Today, it doesn’t. Today, you’re too far from camp, your satchels too full, your boots are too muddy, and your thoughts are too scattered. The air is warm but heavy, clouds rolling in slow and low above the canopy. You don’t like the feeling, but you ignore it anyway.

You find the patch of wild mint tucked beneath a fallen log and kneel down to gather it—sharp, green, fragrant. It reminds you of Arthur, in a strange way. Something rough, wild, but useful. Healing.

You smile a little at the thought. You’ve been thinking about him more than you should.

Once, not long ago, you’d sliced your palm open on a rusted nail behind the horseshoe station. Arthur had been the one to wrap your hand, gruff but gentle, his brow tight with concern. “Gotta be more careful, sweetheart,” he had murmured, brushing dirt from your knuckles like he couldn’t help himself. You had laughed and called him bossy. But you’d watched the way his jaw worked after—like there was something he wanted to say and couldn’t.

But he keeps his distance. Like he doesn’t think he deserves to get close.

The Van der Linde gang is family, in its strange and fractured way. Arthur’s always treated you kind—respectful in a way some of the others never quite mastered. He listens to you when you speak, doesn’t scoff when you talk about herbs and poultices like the rest of them sometimes do. And he looks at you, really looks at you, like you’re not just another pair of hands around camp.

You pretend it doesn’t bother you.

The growl is quiet, almost too quiet. You hear it just as you’re reaching for another stem. You freeze, heart skipping.

The coyote lunges before you can turn.

You hit the ground hard. It’s not a clean fall—you twist wrong, shoulder slamming into a jagged root, and the pain is immediate and blinding. The breath rushes from your lungs. Claws dig into your back. You scream, shove, thrash, somehow managing to drive your blade into its side. The beast snarls, jerks away, then disappears into the brush like it was never there.

You lie in the dirt, your body screaming, shoulder thudding with pain so intense it turns your stomach.

You can’t breathe right.

You can’t move your arm.

You don’t cry, but your throat burns like you might.

Your vision sways. You lean against a tree and focus on surviving. The pain blooms and blooms and keeps blooming.

When you hear a horse, you think you’re imagining it.

But then—

“Hey!”

Arthur’s voice is ragged, raw like it’s been torn from his chest. You turn your head, barely, and there he is—boots kicking up dirt, reins dropped, eyes wild.

He falls to his knees in front of you. Grabs your face gently, cradling your jaw like he’s afraid you’ll shatter.

“What the hell happened?”

“Coyote,” you whisper, dazed. “Shoulder’s—bad. I—I can’t move it.”

His eyes scan your body, hands hovering over you without touching. You’ve never seen Arthur Morgan look scared before.

He looks scared now.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone,” he mutters, more to himself than you. “Damn it. I should’ve come with you.”

“I was fine,” you lie.

“No, you ain’t,” he snaps, but there’s no heat in it. Just fear. “We gotta get you back. I can’t do much for you out here.”

You nod, barely.

He slips an arm around your back, another under your knees, and lifts you like you weigh nothing. You cry out without meaning to—the movement lights your shoulder up like fire—and you fist your good hand in his coat, trying to breathe through the hurt.

Arthur presses his cheek against your hair. “I got you,” he murmurs. “I got you, sweetheart. You hold on now.”

Sweetheart. The word cuts through the pain like sunlight.

The trail blurs in your vision, pine trees and dark green, the scent of horses and earth. Arthur's coat is warm against your cheek.

“I thought you weren’t comin’,” you whisper at one point.

“I'll always come for you,” he says, and it sounds like a vow.

Back at camp, chaos stirs the moment you arrive. Miss Grimshaw demands space, but Arthur doesn’t budge. He carries you to your bedroll himself, eases you down with a gentleness you didn’t know he had in him.

Then he kneels. Takes out his knife. Cuts your torn shirt open at the shoulder and exposes the damage.

You look away. You hate how vulnerable you feel.

“Look at me,” he says quietly. “Ain’t nothin’ you need to be ashamed of.”

You do. His eyes are softer than they’ve ever been. Full of something aching and real.

“This is gonna hurt,” he warns. “Bad. But I need to set it before it swells worse.”

You grit your teeth. “Do it.”

He does. You scream. The pain is so deep and so bright you think you might pass out—but Arthur’s there, grounding you, you find yourself grabbing onto his vest, your forehead pressed to his collarbone.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch. Just lets you hold on while the pain crests and fades.

“You good?” he asks after a minute, his voice low.

You nod, your face against his chest. “Yeah.”

His hand comes up resting carefully against the back of your head. “You scared me.”

You pull back enough to look at him. His eyes are storm-dark, gaze pinned to yours. There’s a vulnerability there you’ve never seen before—not from Arthur.

“I didn’t think anyone’d come lookin’ for me that fast,” you whisper.

“I always would,” he says simply. “You know that, right?”

Your chest aches in a different way now. Deep and warm and terrifying.

The air between you feels charged. Strange and thick, like the calm after a storm—or right before the next one breaks.

When it's over—when your shoulder is finally wrapped tight and the sweat cooling on your brow is wiped away with careful fingers — Arthur’s still crouched beside you with his hand lingering on your knee like he doesn’t want to pull back, and you’re still breathing heavy from the pain.

Your eyes meet his.

And neither of you looks away.

There’s something stretching taut in the silence. You feel it in the way his gaze drops to your mouth, in the way his thumb brushes the outside of your knee without him even seeming to realize he’s doing it. You feel it in your own chest, the way your breath hitches, the way your lips part just barely.

He leans in.

So slow. Like he’s afraid to spook you. Like he’s afraid to want.

And god, you want.

Your nose brushes his. His breath is warm and smells faintly of tobacco and pine. His hand comes up to cradle your jaw again, thumb resting just beneath your cheekbone. His eyes flicker—searching yours like he’s waiting for you to stop him.

You don’t.

He gets so close you can feel the heat of his mouth against yours, your lips nearly brushing.

And then, finally, his lips press to yours.

It’s not gentle.

It’s not rushed, either.

It’s desperate and quiet and full of everything he’s never said. His hand cups your jaw like you’re something precious, like touching you any harder might shatter you. And he kisses you like he’s drowning—like you’re the only thing anchoring him to the world. You feel the tremble in him, the restraint in his shoulders, the way he’s holding himself back even now.

He pulls away just enough to breathe—but not far, never far, and then he kisses you again. Slower this time. Reverent. Like he’s trying to memorize the shape of your mouth, the taste of you, like some part of him knows he may never get another chance.

You gasp into his mouth. Your good hand fists in the front of his shirt, fingers twisted in the worn fabric like you’re afraid he’ll disappear if you let go.

He lets you. Stays there, close and warm and real.

When he finally pulls back, he doesn’t go far. His forehead rests against yours, both of you breathe hard, chests rising and falling like you’ve just run for your lives.

Neither of you speaks.

The quiet between you hums, charged and heavy, every inch of space that used to exist now filled with something fragile and real.

“I thought I lost you,” he says, voice barely more than a breath. Like it costs him something to admit it out loud. Like it’s the most honest thing he’s said in years.

You press your palm to his chest, right over the thud of his heart.

“You didn’t,” you whisper. “You found me.”

His eyes flutter shut. His hand comes up and wraps around your wrist, holding it there. Holding you there. His grip isn’t tight, but there’s something desperate in it. Like if he lets go, you might slip through his fingers all over again.

Then—

“Arthur!”

Dutch's voice cuts through the night sharp and loud, calling him from across camp.

It shatters the moment like glass hitting stone.

Arthur blinks, flinching like someone slapped him. His head lifts. The air between you turns colder, thinner. His hand falls from your face, reluctant.

And just like that, it’s gone. The moment—the kiss—the closeness. Gone like smoke caught in a breeze.

He stands up too fast, like putting distance between you might dull the ache settling in his chest. He clears his throat, avoids your eyes. But then—

Then he pauses.

His gaze drops back to you.

And his hand reaches out one more time—soft, hesitant. He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, slow and careful, like it’s the only thing he’s allowed to do. His fingers linger just a second too long against your cheek. Like he doesn’t want to let go.

“Get some rest, alright?” His voice is rough again. Lower. “I’ll bring you somethin’ warm to eat.”

He doesn’t wait for you to answer.

He turns and walks away, the weight of everything unsaid trailing behind him like a shadow.

And you’re left there, lips still tingling, heart aching, hand still curled over the echo of his heartbeat.

The spell breaks.

The moment dissolves like mist under morning sun.

But the feeling doesn’t.

It stays.

[traveler-at-heart]

Stuck Together - Part 5

Summary: After Westview, Wanda and her children go into hiding. She's not happy with the person in charge of protecting them.

Wanda Maximoff x F! Super Soldier R

It takes a minute to gather her bearings.

When Wanda opens her eyes, there’s a soft light filtering through the bedroom window. The twins are asleep next to her, still too scared to go to separate rooms even if your house was big enough.

Careful not to wake them, Wanda leaves the bed, finding one of your hoodies and wearing it before stepping out. For a moment, it feels like she’s back in Westview, before the illusion was completely shattered and she had to face the facts.

And somehow, this was better than anything her magic could have created. Everything comes together in this piece of land to give a complete feeling of calm and quiet.

“You’re up early”

Wanda turns back, expecting to come face to face with you. Except, it’s muzzle to face, as a horse is staring at her.

“Hi. Uh, yeah. I wanted to stretch my legs for a bit”

“Funny, we were doing just that. Lou is a very stubborn girl, so if I’m not around she gets restless”

Lou steps forward, and you think it’s because she doesn’t know Wanda. To your surprise, she smells her, nuzzling against her face.

“Hey, she likes you”

Wanda knows next to nothing about horses, but you’re holding the reins so confidently, riding as if Lou is an extension of your own body.

“Wanna go for a walk?”

“The kids are still asleep”

“Riley will take care of it” you whistle and the dog, that was walking besides you, goes back inside. “Won’t let any stranger inside, promise”

Before Wanda can tell what you’re doing, you lean forward, picking her up easily so she’s sitting before you, her back to your front.

“Is this ok?” you ask, arms trapping Wanda and keeping her close to your body, as you’re still holding the horse reins.

“Yeah. Fine” she says, hoping you don’t notice her blush.

You make a clicking sound with your tongue, Lou advancing immediately at the command. She admires the farm that’s been in your family for three generations.

There are apple orchards, cherries, pumpkins and even some fraser fir around. Wanda listens intently at the stories of the place, how it became pivotal to keep the small town alive.

“It’s beautiful. I can’t imagine growing up here”

“It was fun” you admit, making Lou approach one of the trees. You reach your hand forward, and Wanda has to remind herself to breathe when she feels your hot breath against her ear. “Here”

You hand over an apple, Wanda sinking her teeth and moaning at the sweet taste.

It’s your turn to squirm in your seat.

“It’s delicious”

To give Lou a break, you get off and help Wanda as well, your hands lingering on her waist.

“Can I ask you something?” she says, looking at the river.

“What about?”

“You don’t think I’m a monster? You heard what happened”

“Lou likes you, and she’s a good judge of character” you say with a smile. Wanda looks away, and you know she needs to hear more than a joke. “Look, you didn’t do it on purpose. You’ve been through a lot of shit than most people your age. This is why I always told the team they should let you have a normal life”

“You did?”

“I fought so hard for them to leave you alone. Go to college or something. Instead they throw you into dangerous missions. I never liked it” you shake your head.

“I thought you didn’t like me”

“You were ok. A little bratty sometimes” you joke, and this time, Wanda does roll her eyes. “Always running your mouth”

“Yeah, I think you had some ideas on how to get me to shut up” she turns to face you, arms crossed in a way that has her breasts pressed together. You gulp, flushing.

“Ok, that… I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I’m not one to be so crass. Or disrespectful”

“So, you don’t mean it?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. I guess I do have a thing for redheads with green eyes and attitude issues”

It’s meant to be a joke, of course. But Wanda’s insecurities come crawling back when she feels you’re comparing her to Natasha.

Natasha, the hero who sacrificed herself for the universe. The woman that dedicated her life to cleaning her ledger, changing her legacy.

You look in shock as she turns around to leave, and this time you decide to follow after her.

“Hey, can you please explain why all of the sudden you get pissed at me?” you reach for her hand, and she yanks it away. You know that if you try again, she’ll blast you all the way to the river. “Wanda!”

“I get it, ok? I’ll never be as good as Natasha. But I’m not second best, or her stand in just because you’re bored. I always liked you, and you’re out there saying you’d rather be in a world where she is alive and I’m nothing. That’s fine. But I didn’t ask to be brought back at the expense of her life. And I won’t apologize either, not when this gave me Billy and Tommy”

With that, she turns to walk back to the house.

You don’t follow her.

—

This was a mistake. Wanda sees it now. Spending all this time with you, while she’s still so vulnerable and shaken up…

You were never meant to find out about her feelings. Truthfully, she was hoping it was just a crush, something she developed because she felt alone and lost.

Well, she’s still alone, and lost. But there’s more to it. The way you protect her, how you interact with the kids… taking them in to your own home without question.

But it all leads back to her, doesn’t it? The Sokovian Accords, the snap, Natasha’s death. It was all because of Wanda. And you’ll never see past that.

They have to leave, and soon. Before Wanda falls deeper in love and gets hurt again. She won’t be able to take it this time.

As her thoughts begin to spiral, Wanda feels the walls of the room closing in on her. Where will they go? How does she even start over, after everything that’s happened?

She’s not even aware of her movements, until she opens the door, meeting your hesitant eyes. You were about to knock, hand in the air.

“Oh. Hi” you say, clearing your throat. “I… uh, I’m sorry, Wanda”

“What for?” she says, trying to ease her breathing.

“For making you feel… unimportant. For implying it would be better if you weren’t back. Truth is… it is what it is, and everyone made their choices. But you’re not responsible for that, and I’d never blame you for it. And if it came across that way, I truly am sorry”

The few times you’ve managed to speak to Yelena, you always say the same thing.

Natasha made a sacrifice to bring her back. To give her a chance to have a good life, one that was worth living.

Didn’t the same thing apply for Wanda?

Couldn’t it apply to you as well?

“So, here…” you hand over a bouquet, with flowers you picked along the way, after she left you by the river.

“Thank you” Wanda accepts them, trying not to read too much into the gesture.

It’s just a peace offering.

“Sykes told me they want to throw a small party, just to welcome you. So, do you want to?”

“That’s hardly necessary” Wanda leans against the door, smelling the flowers.

“They insist, and I promise the food alone makes it worth it. The kids will have plenty of friends to play with as well”

“Alright then” she nods, smiling as you push yourself off the doorframe.

You’re walking backwards, admiring how breathtaking she looks holding the flowers and smiling at you. Like she’s in love.

Maybe you’re a little bit in love too, who knows.

Weirder things have happened.

“Shoot” you say when you crash against the couch, eyes still on her.

“Watch where you’re going” Wanda teases, and you roll your eyes.

Yeah, you’re in big trouble.

—

For the next week, a pleasant routine settles. You insist that they’re free to come and go, use anything they need or want from the house. You don’t impose your ways into the Maximoffs, but they fit perfectly in your own little world.

Wanda has it memorized by now. You get up early, run to the town -what’s 15 miles back and forth for a super soldier?- bring back the paper and some pastries. Because you do have a very sweet tooth indeed.

By the time you’re back, Wanda’s in the kitchen making coffee. You’d usually take Lou out, but the kids like to walk around with her, even if she’s only accepting Wanda in her orbit.

While you wait for the boys to wake up, you drink coffee with Wanda, sharing the paper and commenting on the latests news. You also do the crossword puzzle, which takes you both a good ten minutes to complete.

Once every animal in the farm is taken care of, you return to have breakfast. Wanda’s getting creative with her recipes, taking advantage of the garden you have, growing several things that she loves to pick up every morning.

An unexpected turn adds another thing to the routine.

One time, when Lou yanks at the rope that Billy is holding, you reprimand her.

“Lucille!”

“Lucille?” Wanda tilts her head, intrigued.

“Like Lucille Ball, from I love Lucy…”

“Of course. Yes! Do you like the show?” Wanda says, excited to discuss one of her favorite sitcoms.

“Obviously. I grew up watching all of those. Dick Van Dyke Show, The Mary Taylor Moore Show… man, those were the good days of television”

“Oh, there are some good shows out there now”

“Friends was the last one I saw” you admit, and Wanda gasps.

“Modern family?”

“What?” you tilt your head in confusion.

That’s enough reason to start a nightly watch of a couple of episodes, once the kids are asleep. It’s fascinating to Wanda how you miss so much of pop culture, even if you weren’t frozen like Barnes or Steve.

Except today, when the kids decide that they want to watch all of the Cars movies.

“There’s more than one?” you practically shout. “Hell, no, I’m out”

“Sit back down” Wanda says, her hands on your shoulders. She lets them rest there even after you settle back in the couch, and pretty soon she’s leaning against your side.

Sinking into the couch, you relax, though the movie irritates you at times. Talking cars.

Dumbest fucking shit I’ve ever heard.

“Swear jar!” Billy turns from his spot on the floor.

“Nu-uh! I thought about it, didn’t say it out loud”

“Mom!”

“Swear jar” she says, eyes glued to the television. You scoff, but one arch of her eyebrow has you standing up to put a buck in the jar.

“You said two bad words. That’s two dollars” Billy watches you like a hawk.

“Fine! Happy?”

Still, you can’t believe there’s a third movie.

“Ok, tell you what. Tommy and I will race. If he wins we watch it. If I win… we watch literally anything else”

The boys agree, if only because they love to compete. You walk outside, Wanda right behind you.

“You sure you’re up for it?”

“Yeah, I’m a super soldier” you say, showing off your muscles.

“You’re a hundred years old” she adds, laughing. You glare but not for much longer, as Tommy is bouncing on his feet, ready to compete.

“Alright, first to do five laps wins” you say, high fiving all the Maximoffs.

“Ready, set… go!” Billy says and you start running.

You keep a very tight race for the first three laps, but then you start to fall behind.

Oh, no.

He was slowing down to go at your speed. Tommy’s gonna beat your ass. You push yourself, running as fast as you can, but in the last lap, you can practically hear him breaking the sound barrier, birds flying out of the trees, scared at the booming sound.

“Ah, crap” you hold your side, breathing heavily. “I can’t take another Cars movie. Kill me, please”

As you plop down on the grass, Wanda stands next to you, smiling.

“Don’t be so dramatic. Come on, a bet is a bet” she extends her hand for you to take it and stand up.

And you do take it, but instead you pull her down with you.

“Stop it!” she laughs when you’re tickling her sides, rolling around in the grass as you both laugh. “Ugh, you’re all sweaty and stinky, let me go”

“Nope”

“Please, please, detka” she laughs and the pet name takes you by surprise.

You know what it means, after all. Wanda seems totally unaware of what she just said.

“Ass” she mutters, but there’s no malice in her tone.

You smile at her, heart beating out of your chest.

“Guys, come on! We want to watch the movie!”

“Can we get pizza?”

“Loser pays the pizza” Wanda points at you and you groan.

“So not fair”

But truth is, you don’t mind at all.

—

Movie marathons can be just as exhausting as the other kind. The kids are fast asleep and Wanda excuses herself from the nightly Modern Family rewatch, feeling a bit tired as well.

But the thing is, she’s staring at the ceiling, thinking about the way your hands felt all over her body, laughing in her ear as you teased her.

The weight of your body on top of hers. She has to take a couple of breaths to calm her racing heart. After a few minutes tossing and turning -at least the kids are in a room of their own now- she decides to head to the kitchen and make some tea.

To her surprise, you’re sprawled across the couch, and the minute you hear her come in, you change channels.

“Were you watching porn?” she jokes and you scoff.

“Weren’t you exhausted?”

“Can’t sleep. What were you watching?”

“Nothing” you answer, too defensive for Wanda’s liking. She stays silent for a moment, and then launches forward, hoping to take the remote away from your hands.

“Maximoff!” you groan, struggling with her. Truth be told, either one of you could outpower the other; your strong build helps, and Wanda, well, she could kick your ass with her magic.

But all you do is pull and push, giggling and joking until Wanda snatches the remote, changing the channel back.

“Ancient Aliens?” she says, laughing, and you bury your head in your hands.

“It relaxes me” you say, your voice coming out muffled.

“How so?”

“Because! It’s so fucking stupid. What do you mean fucking aliens built the god damn pyramids?“

“Aliens exist”

“I know that. I fought them a couple of times, remember? I’m just saying. I don’t think showing humans thousand of years ago how to pile rocks was their priority. That’s just bullshit”

“Such a dirty mouth. You kiss your mother with that?” she jokes.

“I kissed you with that mouth”

It’s meant to be a joke, but then you’re looking down at her lips, and she moves forward, straddling your lap. It gets messy real quick, hands touching everywhere they can reach, mouths exploring each other, and your moans drowning out the sound of the tv.

“Wait, wait” Wanda moves back, though she really hesitates when she feels you sucking on her pulse point, knees suddenly weak. “Y/N, stop”

“Sorry, I’m sorry… Did I hurt you? What’s wrong?” you craddle her face in your hands, thumb tracing her cheek. The look you’re giving her, a mix of adoration, and genuine concern��� that’s the most exhilirating part of this.

“I can’t… I care too much. Feel too much. And I’m not sure we want the same things”

“Stay” is all you say, hands going around her waist to pull her closer to you.

“What?”

“Stay. Let’s find out together. I’m just so damn tired… of being angry and fighting the world. Maybe this happened for a reason. Or maybe you’re just horny and I’m attractive enough to pass the time”

“You’re such a jerk” she says, smiling.

“Yeah, but you like me” you smile back, hands traveling lower and lower, waiting for her to stop you. She never does, and then you turn to look at her, tilting your head. “So, what do you say?”

“Stay, huh? I think I can do that”

“Alright, then” you nod, your lips meeting hers once more. 

—

There’s an addition to the routine. After the kids go to bed, you and Wanda stay in the living room. You rarely make it through an episode of whatever it is you’re pretending to watch, too lost in each other’s touch to remember the TV is still on. Most of the times, she ends up sinking in the cushions, smiling up at you, her hair disheveled as you find all the spots that make her squirm, moan and shudder.

But -and you can’t admit this out loud, not yet, at least- your favorite part is after, when you slow down, Wanda leaning against you, your hand going up and down her arm as you talk about everything.

“What’s your favorite color?” she asks, which makes you laugh. “Forget it”

“Come on, I’m teasing” you kiss her temple, smiling. “Yellow”

“All your clothes are black. Or grey. Dark blue” she says.

“I like yellow… like the sun in the early morning. Or the reflection of sunlight in the river. The leaves when it’s fall. Wheat too. Reminds me of the farm. What about you?”

“Blue. What? Were you expecting red?”

“Maybe” you smile against her temple, and she relaxes. You stay silent for a couple of minutes, and she sighs.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking about, but I can sense you want to ask, so just do it”

“Ok, don’t get mad at me. And definitely don’t throw me out the door… I fixed it last month”

“Will the window do?”

“Oh, yeah, feel free to blast me through the glass” you turn around, facing her and she scoots closer. You can tell she’s a little guarded, almost scared. “So, Billy and Tommy… you had them while you were in Westview? Like, how? Created by magic? Is that a thing?”

“I mean, I gave birth to them”

“And is Vision…?”

“I suppose. I’m not entirely sure how it works” she admits with a shy laugh.

“You don’t know how babies are made?”

“No, you idiot. What I mean is…”

“I can show how they’re made” you tease, and she slaps your shoulder to try to hide her blush. Before you can get cocky, she straddles your lap.

“What I mean is… it came from a place of longing and love and grief. And it defied all logic, all the rules of time and space. So, I don’t know. Maybe you are the father”

“Me?! Should I get a paternity test?”

“Idiot”

“I hold in my hand the envelope, with DNA results and the father is...” you pretend to open an invisible letter. “The father is Y/N, oh my God!”

“You. Are. Such. An. Ass”

“Glad you’re all caught up on that” you say, holding her hands so she stops slapping your sides. The only way to make her stop is by kissing her, and you’re more than happy to do so.

If only things were that simple all the time.

—

The next morning, you’re woken up by a knock on your door.

“Y/N? Did mom leave for the store?”

You look around, finding Wanda asleep right next to your side. Well, that’s a first.

“Oh, just a minute” you say. Wanda blinks a few times, then looks around.

“Did I fall asleep here? Oh, my God” she whisper yells, looking around.

“Hey, calm down” you kiss her temple. “I’ll take care of the kids, take your time to do whatever you need. There’s a couple of clean hoodies, since you’re a thief” you try to joke to ease her nerves.

“I just didn’t mean to overstep”

“You didn’t. I slept comfortably. You’re not a blanket hoarder, surprisingly”

“Well, I was expecting you’d snore” she teases back.

But then Billy is joining his brother at the door and you sigh, kissing her before leaving the room.

You tell them that Wanda’s getting some stuff from the garden, and take them outside to feed Lou and walk Riley.

As you walk along the farm, they insist on taking a longer route to play around the lake. You agree, Riley following close behind you.

It’s like every morning, beautiful and quiet.

Except Riley, who’s being too loud today, barking incessantly.

“Girl, what’s wrong? Come here” you whistle. But she keeps barking, her body leaning forward on the edge of the pier, balancing her weight as much as she can so she doesn’t end up in the water.

The kids take notice of the commotion, walking up to you.

“Stand back” you say, kneeling next to Riley.

You see it too late.

A ghostly face. White, estoic, terrifying.

The creature comes out of the water, holding you by the neck.

“I have to kill you”

[wwilloww]

sh. | chapter twenty two | pjm

PAIRING ot7 x reader RATING Explicit. 18+. GENRE smut. fluff. angst. nonidol au. wildnerness au. roommates au. friends to lovers. SUMMARY Six months of quarantine have kept you apart. Somehow the distance sparks something new in each of you: questions, unfinished conversations, threads once chased now left cold. So when your roommate invites you to come with him to a mysterious house in the mountains with your friends, how could you even think of saying no? WC 4.8k WARNINGS AND TAGS no use of gendered pronouns to refer to reader. consensual objectification. d/s dynamic. over the panty sex (is this just called dry humping?) fucktoy-ification? teasing. orgasm denial.

AN hi :) i'm so sorry i made you wait so long for this. it's been a rollercoaster these last two years, and i hope you can forgive me for my long absence. if you enjoyed this chapter, i'd love to hear from you: what stuck out to you, what you're hoping will happen in future chapters, or just how you've been. i've missed you. and, as always, thank you for reading <3

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CHAPTER TWENTY TWO: RULE BREAKER

You don’t talk or think much about your childhood. You like to imagine that when you turned eighteen those years whispered away into the ether of time, as irrelevant and dusty as the old photobook that stays on the shelf, eternally unopened. 

As a child, home was multiplied and many. It was the many places you lived, as you moved often, following your father around with his job. But it was also many in the sense that you learned at a young age that home didn’t have to be a place you lived. Home was between the worn and finger-marred pages of the books you fell in love with, home was the wisping scent of fresh (if not often burnt) pastry in your grandmother’s kitchen each time you visited, home was the place you yearned to travel to but never made the time to visit. 

But as you close the book in your hands, the words echo in your mind: 

Are you going to come home? 

You feel far away from home, even though you find a great deal of comfort in the walls of Namjoon’s mountain house. Ahem, mansion. Confusion riddles little holes of worry through you. Where is home, anyways? The small apartment you left empty in the city? The question opens a void in you. Why bother with home anyways? Sure, home could be anything if you tried hard enough, but couldn’t the opposite be true too? That if you tried hard enough, you wouldn’t need a home?

Still, void and all, the question nudges you. 

Unsettled, you clamber down the tree and make your way back towards the house. The sun has risen higher in the sky and breaks through the chill ever so slightly. Worried that you’ve just abandoned Jimin this morning and that he’ll wake up alone, you quicken your pace. You creak the door open, waving at Jungkook and Jin and Taehyung in the kitchen, who are huddled over the coffee, waiting for it to finish brewing. 

“A watched pot never boils,” you call out to them, noting that Jungkook looks a little cheerier than he had the past several days. Jin’s hand rests on Jungkook’s lower back and a little wave of joy jolts through you as the older man throws you a little smile. 

“Watching it actually makes it go faster,” Jungkook says, his eyes glued to the coffee. “A little motivation and encouragement always lends a helping hand.” 

You smile at that and continue making your way towards Jimin’s bedroom. You pass one room—a gym of sorts filled with a few cardio machines, a set of free weights, and a large mirror, and you’re surprised you didn’t notice it before—and pause. 

Namjoon is spotting Hoseok as the latter bench presses what looks like an unreasonably heavy weight. 

As you watch them, the dream from last night floods back to you. 

The music filtering through the night. The tightness of each man’s grip on you as they spun you through the ballroom, the floorboards creaking beneath you, the high of attention sitting heady in your chest. 

And too, you can’t forget, the way they stared at each other in single-minded competition, hackles raised, teeth gritted. You can’t forget the darkness that swirled at their feet, and you wonder too, if you’re letting your dream drift into the world of the living too.

But here they are, fondly smiling at one another. Had you made it all up? Well, of course you made it up. It was a regency-era dream for god's sake. But the tension? The competition? As Namjoon helps Hoseok lower the weights to the bar and hauls him to his feet, you’re sure it’s all in your head. 

“Nice, man,” Namjoon says, grinning and clasping Hoseok on the back. 

Before they see you, you continue on. Just as you’re about to open the door to the bedroom you’ve been searching for, it swings open before you. Jimin steps out. 

“Oh. You’re awake!” you say.

“I am indeed.” 

“I’m sorry I left this morning—“ 

“It’s okay,” he says, but there’s a tinge of sadness in his voice, a little dust mote of it that you catch. 

“I went to go read in a tree,” you offer quickly as an explanation, hoping it will make up for the disappointment of waking up alone after not spending a night together in a while. 

“In a tree?” 

“In a tree,” you confirm. 

He chuckles. “That seems like a good enough reason to abandon me. I gotta be honest though—“ He steps closer, lets his gaze flicker down, and toys with the hem of your shirt. “I was looking forward to waking up beside you.” 

“Were you?” you smile. 

“I was. I was even looking forward to potentially getting to wake you up.” He says it with a mischievous grin. 

“Oh? And how would you have woken me up?”

His hand drifts lower, beneath the band of your leggings. “You know, it’s really easier to show you, rather than tell you—” His hands pause. “What’s this?” Jimin sends you a knowing look. 

“What?” Your mind sputters as you struggle to come up with what he might be talking about. But he steps closer to you, a hand drifting down to your hips, a finger pulling your shirt up. With his other hand he plucks at the band of your panties. 

“This,” he emphasizes. 

“Oh.” 

You’d nearly forgotten the promise you’d made to Jimin. But now it all comes rushing back, how he’d made you promise in those early days in the house to forgo any underwear. At the time it’d been a silly dare, but the seriousness in his eyes makes you reconsider. 

“What? Do I have to remind you every day?” he says gently. “Or perhaps I haven’t been spending enough time around you, and you’ve forgotten your promise to me?”

“N-no,” you say. “I mean maybe. Maybe I want you around more.” You sidle up to him, running a finger up his chest. “Maybe… I want you to remind me.” 

Jimin steps closer to you, pressing you against the bedroom door. You gasp when he leans in close, close enough to kiss you, but doesn’t. 

“I think you forget too quickly that  I told you there’d be a punishment if you ‘forgot’ about our little rule.” 

“Oh?” You tilt your head as you look at him. “What kind of punishment?” Panties or not, it seems like you win. 

“Like I mentioned earlier, I think I’d rather show you than explain it to you. Let’s just say I’m a hands-on kind of teacher.” 

You think he’s going to kiss you, but instead he presses close, his lips a centimeter away from yours, his hands cupping your cheeks before wandering down to explore your body. You reach for him, struggle to bring his lips to yours, but he shifts his attention elsewhere, leaving you hanging. His hands rove over your body, his lips dip out of reach. So you change your plan of attack too. You let your hands wander over him. When you feel his breath quicken against you, you release him, dipping your head below his chin.

You glide your lips down Jimin’s neck, slow and intentional; a calculated move. You let your breath whisper against his skin, and you can’t help but think back to that night with Yoongi and Namjoon in which sensation—even the lightest of touches—had meant so much to you. To your body. You want to play Jimin like they played you. 

His hands tighten in your shirt, knuckles whitening. 

“Inside,” he gasps, and the desperation in his voice makes you think that he’s lost a bit of his fine-tuned control. His eyes are blown wide. He looks like he could eat you up. “Inside,” he repeats, but enacts the command himself as he pulls you through the door with him, making it sound a little more like a plea than you think he intends.

The pair of you tumble onto the bed, a mess of limbs and lips, teeth, hands. 

He captures your lips, finally, kissing you. The kiss is anything but gentle, nearing the edge of pain, his teeth knocking against yours, nipping at your lips. You groan into his mouth as his hips cant against you. 

It’s not long before he begins to tug at your clothes. 

Then he pauses, lifting your head from his lips. You’re sprawled atop him and you lift yourself up on your hands. 

“What?” you inquire curiously.

“I’m going to ask you to do something.” 

“Alright.”

With a leveled gaze, he says, “Strip.” 

He pushes you off of him, and you kneel at the foot of the bed, pausing a second, before making the executive decision to stand and undress. It’ll be more, well, graceful that way, you think. The alternative is flopping around on the sheets like a beached hammerhead shark trying to get your pants off. 

So you do as you’re told. There’s something about undressing before him, as he leans back against the headboard, watching you. There’s something about undressing for him, while he watches on, his gaze drinking you in that has sparks running through your body.

Slowly, slowly you slip off your top, and wiggle your leggings off your legs. You try to make it a little sexy, glancing up at him from time to time, to find that warm darkness swirling in his gaze that you love so much. You trip once, because you’re staring too much. 

“Keep the panties on,” he says when you go to pull them down.  

“Oh. Okay.”  Your brow furrows and you can’t help but let a little bit of the disappointment you’re feeling into your voice. You’re a little confused why he would ask you to keep them on when they were the problem that started all of this. 

He stands then, walking towards you. You hold your breath. He finally arrives before you and places his hands on your hips. His fingers toy with the trim of the panties, and goosebumps race along your skin from the delicate touch. 

“What are you going to do?” you ask, your voice breathy.

“You’ll see.” 

With that he hooks a finger under the band of your underwear and lets it snap against your skin. You cry out, more in surprise than anything else. 

“Did that hurt?” 

“No, not really.” 

“Good.” He grins. “Now, I want you to be honest.” 

“I’m always honest.” You correct yourself: “Most of the time. Most of the time I’m always honest.” 

Jimin chuckles at that. 

“Fair enough. But I need your most-of-the-time-always honesty now.” You nod, your hand drifting upward to grip his forearm. 

“Of course.” 

“I want to try something out with you. Something new.” 

“New?”

“A new kind of play.”

Your mind reels with the possibilities. What could he possibly suggest? Chastity kink? Tittyfucking? Technojizz? Ballcuzzi?  

“I want to use you like a toy,” he whispers. “I want to fuck you like a toy. I want to talk to you like a toy, treat you like one.” Your eyes widen when he says it. His eyes go wide too, drinking in your every microexpression, as he waits for you to respond. 

“A toy?” 

“Yes.”

“Where did this come from?” you say it with a little smile, and trace your finger along his jawline. He relaxes at the touch. 

“I saw the way you reacted during group play. When Jin was talking to you, saying things like, ‘You want to be our slut. You want to be our whore.’” Just hearing Jimin repeating Jin’s words sends a shiver through your body. “He didn’t say it like I would have said it, but I knew he wanted to.” He presses his lips to your ear while his hands rove over your body. “You want to be our toy, don’t you?”  

The answer is easy. “Yes.” 

“You want to be used by us, don’t you?” 

“Y-yes.” 

He chuckles. “That’s what I thought. So tell me. Tell me what you want to be.” 

“I want to be your toy.” 

“Good.” He grins. 

He lets his hand drift down to your underwear again, fingers trailing along the inside the elastic hem before plucking at them once more. He seems to like the way you flinch. 

His fingers wander down your skin. He traces your hip, before flicking his fingers beneath the hem that circles your thigh. Slowly, he creeps closer to where you want his fingers most, but before he can touch you, he pulls his fingers away. You nearly groan, and a fleeting grimace crosses your face. Jimin catches it. 

“Patience would look so pretty on you,” he says, and the sting of his words is delightful. 

“Hmph.” 

His fingers continue to explore the thin piece of fabric that separates you from total nudity. They’re not a particularly pretty pair of underwear: they’re nothing more than a tan color brief. 

You say as much to Jimin, and tell him you wish you were wearing something sexier. Lace, maybe. Something black. 

“True,” he replies. “But you know why I like these?” 

“Why?” 

“Because I can see you dripping through them.” 

You warm at the implication.   

“And when I push my cock against them, I’ll see me on them too. I’m a visual man, you know.” He kind of chuckles at that last bit, like it’s some sort of inside joke with himself. 

When he drops to his knees, like that first day in the forest with him, you gasp. Finally, finally, he’s going to touch you. 

But when his tongue presses against you through the fabric of your underwear, it’s only half the sensation you need from him. Still, it feels good, a gentle warmth spreading through your abdomen as he licks and presses against your clit and vulva. 

“You taste so good,” he murmurs against you. 

“I’m—“ 

“You’ve soaked your panties through.” 

You warm at the thought, such little stimulation getting you so ready for him. You wonder if he’ll fuck you hard and fast or if he’ll take you sweet and slow. If he’ll take his time with you. Whatever he decides to do, you know you’ll be happy to have him fill you as you currently clench and tighten around nothing. It’s an empty feeling that sifts through you. 

When he’s thoroughly soaked your underwear with his mouth, he stands and kisses you. You can taste the ghost of yourself on him, and it reminds you of the smell of first summer light hitting the ground at dawn. A space when it is neither day, nor night, but some third plane of existence. Like that, in this moment, you feel like some third kind of creature. Neither yourself entirely, nor Jimin, but some other, third thing that you could only become in his presence. You can feel the shit-eating grin that glides across his lips and presses into yours as he walks backwards, leading you back to the bed. 

There’s something different, too, about all of this, about the way he kisses you today. There’s an edge of desperation, of frustration that you can taste on him. His movements are quicker, less languid. His lids are lidded. His breath comes quicker.  It’s delightful. 

But it’s also brand new. It feels like he has let a part of himself loose from under his usual state of control, and you wonder if your most recent conversation with your friends—where you discussed emotionality and feeling—had anything to do with what he was going through. What he wanted. 

An edge of anxiety tickles at your throat as you think of it. Does he want something more? 

He seems to notice your hesitation. 

“I just want you right now,” he says, as if he’s read your mind. He stops you at the edge of the bed, turns you so that the back of your knees hit the mattress.  You’re not sure if he’s a mind reader or what. 

You fall back into the bed, Jimin leading you down gently with a hand against your back until you sink into the soft bedding. You can’t help but giggle at the gentleness. Not that you have anything against it, but in this moment you feel anything but a toy. The way he looks at you makes you feel, well, precious. 

He breaks his gaze to kiss you again, tongue pressing against your lips. 

“Open up for me,” he says. “Like a good kitten—Like a good toy.” 

You do as you’ve been told, opening your mouth and letting him swirl his tongue through you, swiping at the roof of your mouth and sending tingles down your spine. 

His hands drift down your body before slipping beneath your panties. You glow, so eager for his touch, groaning as his fingers swipe against your clit. Just once. But as if he’s just realized a mistake he’s made, he rapidly pulls his hand out. 

“Oops. Got a little caught up.” 

You pout. “What, you’re not going to touch me like that? There? At all?” 

He pulls back enough to flick his gaze between your eyes and your lips. “Be a good toy and just do what you’re told.” 

“Oh?” The bratty part of you flickers and rises up.

He silences you with a kiss, his fingers circling around your clothed entrance before trying to press in through the thin fabric of your underwear. It’s like he’s trying to finger fuck you through the wet cotton, pushing it into you with his fingers. The pressure surely is something, but it’s not even a hint of enough, and you find your hips bucking up against him, seeking more attention, seeking more pressure. 

“So needy. So desperate.” 

He continues until the yearn within you aches.

“Stop playing,” you gasp. “Just give me your cock. Want you. Want your cock. I’ll be your toy, just–just use me like one.” 

“Don’t good toys say please?” 

“Please, sir.”

He freezes above you. 

“Sir?” 

“I—I… It just slipped out!” 

He grins. “I kinda like it.” He hums, as if contemplating it, then nods. “And since you’ve asked so nicely—“  

Jimin leans back enough to begin unbuttoning his shirt. He takes his time, while the knot in your belly begins to recede. You sit up, eager to help him out of it, but he quickly swats your hands away. 

“Patience, kitten.” 

You don’t say it, but your crossed arms and pout say, “Fine, sir,”  loud and clear. He laughs at your expression. 

“Don’t you worry,” he says, tilting your chin up. “I’ve always taken care of you, haven’t I?” 

He takes his cock out, stroking it once, twice, his hand gliding expertly over the soft and sensitive skin. 

“I’m going to use you like you’re good for.”

“Like I’m good for?” You echo, desperate for him. 

“All you’re good for,” he whispers in your ear and the words send a shiver of pleasure down your spine.  

With one hand, he takes your ankles and pushes them over your head.

“Hold them.” 

He then settles between your legs, hand wrapped tightly around his cock. With a movement that seems far too familiar to him, he slaps your pussy with his hard and dripping cock, and you groan. Fuck. 

Lowering himself to you, so your thighs press into his shoulders, he finally aligns his cock with your clothed vulva. 

And then with one careful movement, he grinds against you. The simple movement is enough to make you cry out. 

“Fuck, Jimin.” 

At first it’s slow, his cock pressing against your vulva in rhythmic pulses, your clit. At one point he pulls back and presses the head of his cock to your clothed entrance and presses in. 

You whine against him, but he doesn’t acknowledge you. He simply returns to continuing his thrusts. You’re just as wet as he is hard, soaking your panties, his precome painting them too. 

“Maybe I would have woken you up like this. Wouldn’t you have liked that? Waking up to my hard cock pressing against your clit, me ready to come, just from rutting against you? Wouldn’t that make you happy, to know how good you make me feel?”

You look down to where your bodies are pressed together. His cock rhythmically pokes up, the head dark and heavy. Sometimes though, the head of his cock gets stuck on your underwear, pushing the fabric higher and tighter around you. You groan at the sight. 

“Don’t you love how good you make me feel?”  

Your hips buck together, finding a desperate, shared rhythm. Your breath, too, matches up. 

For a moment, your eyes lock. All you can think about is how damn pretty he looks when he fucks, his dark hair falling into his face, his cheeks flushed, his plush lower lip caught between his teeth. And he looks back. 

But then his eyes flicker away from yours. 

He fucks you over your panties, murmuring how good of a toy you are for him, how he wishes he could fuck you properly, fill you up.

“Please,” you gasp, desperate for more. “Fuck me.”

“When you behave,” he grunts. “I will.” Another thrust. “When you follow my rules, I will.” 

When he comes, he presses the head of his cock to your clit. You can feel it twitching against you as he groans and sighs, his come painting your panties white. 

With the head of his cock pressing so rhythmically against your clit, you’ve built up to a delicious pleasure, so close to coming. 

“Jimin, Jimin, I’m so close. Please.” Your hips tilt up, searching out the pleasure he keeps denying you. 

But Jimin just grins at you and sighs dramatically. His breath still comes a little quickly, he seems a little winded.  

“If only you hadn’t been so intent on misbehaving earlier. Maybe I could have let you come.” 

“Oh, come on,” you groan, about a second away from throwing your fists on the bed in proper tantrum form. “You’re in charge. You write the rules. Who said you can’t let me come?” 

“The rules I wrote say so, actually.” 

You huff. 

“Well then. Maybe I’ll just have to take care of it myself.” 

In a swift action, Jimin leans over you, pinning your hands above your head. Your breath leaves your lungs in a quick gasp. 

“Wha—” 

“I think you know you’re not even supposed to be thinking about that, let alone doing it.” 

You tilt your head.

Jimin laughs, a hint of playful hardness in his voice. “Don’t you remember?” You shake your head. “You’re forgetting all of your promises today, aren’t you? Jin had you promise that you wouldn’t be coming unless it was because of one of us.” 

Your eyes widen. 

“Shit. I forgot.” 

“I know you forgot.” 

You throw your head back and groan. “But I thought you said you’d always take care of me.” 

“I did. And I do. But sometimes it’s good for you to wait a little for your reward. Today you took your punishment—” He tilts your head up so you’re looking at him and the pout that had taken over your face fades a little. “And tomorrow, I’ll give you your reward.” 

You roll your eyes. 

“Fine.”

“You think you can do that? Wait until tomorrow?” 

“Yeah.” You sigh. 

“You’re so good for me,” he says, pressing a kiss to your lips. His hands glide down to your hips, dipping beneath the band and you think, oh, maybe he’ll do it now. But your hopes are quickly dashed when he tugs on them and says, “Maybe it was a good thing I had you wear these afterall.” He shimmies your come-stained underwear down your thighs. “Easy cleanup.” 

You can’t help but laugh at that, always surprised when Jimin’s practical side pops out alongside his gregariousness. But he balls the panties up, and before tossing them into the laundry basket near the door, holds them up in his hand, shaking them, as if directing attention to them. 

 “I should remind you why I asked you to do this?” 

“I know why you asked me to. You liked the secret of it—?” You think back to what he had said to you, all those days ago, though it feels like a lifetime ago:

“I like walking around, knowing I’m the only one who has your sweetness on my tongue. I love talking to the others while getting to taste you still. Getting to remember the way you squirm underneath my touch. I do it because I want to.”

You still shiver, thinking of those words. But that had been before everyone knew about you and Jimin. 

“I did like the secret of it,” Jimin says, breaking through your reverie. “But there’s more than that, too.” 

You raise an eyebrow, prompting him to go on. 

“There’s knowing you do it for me.” 

He grins, before strutting to the bathroom. You watch his ass as he goes. Plump, you think. When he returns, he’s cleaned up and still grinning. Mulling on what he’s said—”for me”—an image of all eight of you on the living room floor arises. What are the boundaries between one person and another with this set up? What are the lines? What is owed? Your head spins, and you settle into the pillow. You’re still humming in the sensation of your dwindling pleasure, receding far away from your orgasm, and you sigh. 

“If the only way people are going to punish one another around here is by giving them blue balls, I’m going to get tired reeeeal quick,” you murmur to yourself.

“Is that so?” Jimin says from behind you as he collects your clothes. “If that’s the case, we better start coming up with new forms of punishment.” 

“Yes, maybe you should,” you say, mock-grouchily. 

“I’ll start thinking up new and innovative ways. Maybe I’ll consult Jin—he seems creative when it comes to this stuff—especially if you’re going to be so quick to forget what you promised him.” He helps you into your clothes again, but remains naked himself. 

“But—” 

“No buts.” He seals your silence with a kiss. “Just do what you’re told.” The statement stings through you like a bolt of electricity. As much as you hate to admit it, you love when he tells you what to do. Even if you love fighting against it just as much. “You know why you should do what you’re told?” He continues, as he kisses down your throat.

“Why?” 

“Because then I can reward you. I can make you come again and again until you’re crying to stop, or hold you at the edge long enough that when you’re finally ready to tip over, it’s the best fucking orgasm in your whole life.” 

You can’t help but giggle. “Are you saying you’re the best fuck of my life?” 

“No. Not yet. But I can be.” He pulls away from you enough to see the shit-eating grin on your face. 

“I think some of your friends might fight you for that position.” 

“Maybe they should.” 

“Maybe they should what?” a voice comes from the door. 

“Hoseok—” 

Hoseok stands in the doorway, a confused look on his face. You imagine what he must be seeing, a naked Jimin in bed, and you, now entirely naked, too, now that Jimin stripped you of your panties, tangled up in each other. 

“What’s going on here?” Hoseok asks. 

“Do you really want to know?” Jimin asks.

“Um. Not really.” Then his gaze focuses on you. He lingers on your face, reading you, trying to figure you out. But then he catches himself. “Uh, maybe I should come back later.” 

“No!” you say, perhaps a little too eagerly, sitting up. “What is it?” 

“I just was looking for you,” Hoseok says, a little shyly. “I was hoping to steal you away.”  

“Let me get dressed.” 

You stand up, and pull your clothes back on, noting how Hoseok’s gaze flickers to you just in time to see you pull on your leggings without any panties on underneath.  

Jimin sits up quickly, pulling a pillow over his crotch for the sake of Hoseok’s modesty. “Just so you know—if you’re going to go together—I already said that if someone was going to wear panties that someone wasn’t going to be able to come.” He turns to you. “So don’t you go running off to lover boy, thinking you can get your rocks off.” Jimin turns his attention back to Hobi. “This one is very much not allowed to come. At least for the rest of the day.” 

Hoseok coughs. 

“Oh, I, uh, I wasn’t, I wasn’t presuming.” 

“Yes you were, asshole,” Jimin laughs. “We’re all presuming.” 

Hoseok flushes red all the way to the tips of his ears at the implication, but you find it charming. 

“You didn’t answer my question,” Hoseok says.

You glance at Jimin, who leans back with his hands laced behind his head. He looks like the perfect image of relaxation and… is that pride? There’s a soft smile curving at the corner of his lip, a kind of jesting smirk. 

“Go on,” Jimin says. “I’m already taken care of.” 

You roll your eyes. 

“Asshole.” 

But you stand and make your way to Hoseok nonetheless. 

“You have time?” he asks.

“I have all the time in the world.” 

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Feelings (5)

Hi guys!

New chapter for this Serie, I hope you'll like it too :) Don't be shy about telling what you think about it, or asking if you want to have something special in it. I had a request from here for this one, so I hope it will be ok like this :)

Please enjoy ♥

TW : Suggestive, sex talk (?)

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

Saying goodbye to Alessia was hard, but you didn’t have the choice. You knew since the start of all this that it would happen, but that doesn’t mean it was making things easier.

You find your apartment like you left it, your friend Sofia came several times to ventilate it and take care of your olive tree. That you renamed Olivio, with all the imagination that is yours. The only thing that changed, is that there is no Alma laying on your couch like she was used to do when you were away. You always hided your keys under your doormat for her to come, but you asked Sofia to take it away for now. You still have things belonging to Alma in here though.

You send them to her by the post before going to your first training session. Your Spanish teammates look at you with friendly compassion when your arrived and you realize that you almost forgot that you lost a finale several days before. Alessia made you forget.

You find your habits really quickly, even if Laia Codina or Jenni are not part of the team anymore. But Ona being one to replace them, you’re pretty sure that Lucy isn’t too mad. You still have to talk to her about Alessia though, you knew that she went on holidays with Ona and didn’t want to bother her. And you teased her so much about Ona that you’re sure she won’t miss to tease you back for now.

Cata Coll is one of your closest friends here and it’s with her that you appear for the first time back on Fc Barcelona Feminin’s Instagram. The training was lighter the first days, but you soon go back to the real session.

“So. You and Less?” asks Lucy one afternoon where you are at her flat after the training.

“Yes?” you answer innocently.

You were playing against each other at Fifa on Playstation, Lucy’s actually crushing you with Manchester City. You’re still trying to figure how she can be good at everything.

“How did you get together?”

“What tell you that we are together?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh I don’t know. Maybe because you were making out in the plane when I came back to ask if I can borrow your earphones?”

Sitting on the other couch while scrolling on her phone, Ona can’t help but snort. You don’t mind her being here while you’re talking about your love life. You like her and she’s your mate’s girlfriend. You better get along and for now it’s working great. You smile too, to be fair, even if you blush lightly.

“We didn’t put a label on it, so I don’t know if I can call her my girlfriend” you answer, frowning softly.

It was the truth, even if you both said that you won’t go for someone else. You really hope that no one will catch Alessia’s eyes at Arsenal or even London. She’s starting again in a new environment; she doesn’t know everyone for now. You trust her obviously, but that doesn’t mean that she can’t lose interest in you.

“We did that at first too” Lucy answers. “Long-distance was hard, but really worth it if you’re meant to be.”

You hum, missing the complicit smile between Ona and Lucy. You sigh when Lucy scores another goal just before the end of the game. With a disgusted air, you let the controller fall on the couch.

“I’ve never been in a long-distance relationship before. It’s strange, to be honest, not being able to take the girl you like on date or something.”

“It is” Lucy smiles, patting your knee softly. “If you need advice or only talking, you can come to me. Or Mariona, she’s dealing with it for longer that I was.”

You nod. You somehow forgot that Mariona is dating Alessia’s teammate. Maybe you can take planes together sometimes, you think with irony.

“And Alma?” Lucy asks.

“Never heard from her again. I send her the things she left in my apartment and that’s all.”

********

You took the habits to call Alessia every night. She’s usually cooking her diner and put her phone against one of her kitchen walls to be able to cook while talking to you. You can really look at her for hours doing it. You only regret not being able to stick against her while she cuts some vegetables.

“What do you like to eat?” Alessia asks you that night.

You were silently observing her, lost in your contemplation.

“Oh uh… It depends” you shrug. “I’m not really difficult, I mean I think?”

Alessia laughs softly.

“I cooked for Leah two days ago, it was entertaining” the blonde says.

You smirk, knowing exactly what it could have been. You never met anyone as picky as Leah when it comes from food. You can guess her choice when you go to restaurant with her, it’s always the simplest dish.

“Why do you ask anyway?” you ask Alessia.

She looks genuinely surprise by your question, stopping to cut her carrots to look at you better.

“Don’t you come next week to London?”

“Yes?”

“Well I want to cook for you, obviously. We chose to get delivered almost at every meal we share when we stayed at home, but I really want to cook for you.”

“Ok” you smile softy. “Only if you let me take you on a proper date.”

“Is that even a deal?” Alessia smiles at you.

You feel your heart beating faster and God, how did you survive when she smiled at you that way in front of you?

Several days later, you were leaving training in hurry. You have two hours to go to the airport after your session and you came with your suitcase to go for it straight after your shower.

“Why are you in such hurry?” Jana asks from her cubby.

“She’s going to her girlfrieeeend” Cata sings from her spot.

“Girlfriend?”

Keira’s voice came from the other side of the room, and you flinch. Right, you didn’t talk to Keira about your new relationship. For your defense, you were thinking that Leah would. You grimace to Cata, grabs your suitcase and go for the exit.

“Say Alessia I say hi” Lucy shouts before getting hit by Ona on her arm.

“Alessia?”

You giggle when you hear the surprise in Keira’s voice but don’t take the time to answer, too scared to miss your plane. You jump in the taxi waiting for you and went for the airport.

It’s only when your luggage are taking care by the company that you take your phone off of your pocket. You wanted at first to write to Alessia to let her know that you were on your way, but you have some messages from Keira too.

Keira 🥠 Alessia??? Like in Alessia Russo? You better answer me right now, Kid.

You Who’s Alessia Russo?

Keira 🥠 You little shit. Bring back some Scones.

During the two hours and twenty-one minutes of the trip, you slept. You went to bed late this week, not being able to hang up with Alessia, even if you knew that you would see her today.

You are alert when you arrive in London, by dint of traveling from this airport, you know it by heart. There is an hour of time difference with Spain, so you feel like you have only left Spain for an hour and a half. The sandwich you snacked while waiting for your suitcase will allow you to wait until you arrive at Alessia’s, who promised to cook for you tonight. You know that you have at least one hour to go to Alessia’s house, London traffic jam being awful.

You were taping on your phone for an Uber when a voice next to you make you jump out of your skin.

“Hi stranger!”

You jump, turning around only to be face with the mischievous face of your gi… Alessia. She was supposed to be at London, not at the airport. You might look stupid when you look at her with wide eyes and your mouth slightly open. It made Alessia giggles, and you feel your stomach make a jump at the sound.

“Lessi? What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I have a great visitor coming to mine this weekend, so I decided to come to take her home.”

“No, I mean…”

“I know what you mean” Alessia laughs before kissing your cheek. “I changed my media hours with Kyra to be here at the right time.”

“Oh.”

You blush and let Alessia takes your suitcase. You then follow her to the parking lot, slaloming between people. You want to take Alessia’s hand in yours, but you don’t want to make her uneasy. There are a lot of people here.

You are happy to be sitting on the passenger’s seat of her car, who is definitely more comfortable than your seat on the plane. You can’t stop to look at her and just because she’s just next to you right now, you softly stroke her cheek before taking her hand in yours.

“I missed you” you mumble when she looks at you.

She is driving and you should have taken the opportunity to kiss her before you left the parking, but you maybe will have plenty of time to do it at her home.

“I missed you too” Alessia smiles.

She asks about your trip; you ask her about her day and finally the journey for her house isn’t so long. Even if there are a lot of people on the road at this time of the day.

“Leah wants to meet you during your stay” Alessia said at one time during the trip. “I told her not today because you will be tired, but maybe tomorrow morning? She can come to have a brunch or something before the game?”

“It sounds nice” you smile, not mentioning that only seeing her is enough for you.

Alessia had a game tomorrow afternoon, but it let you all tonight, all day after the game and all the next day too. You will leave on Monday morning very early to be at training in the morning. And you are determined to enjoy it the most possible.

You are happy to find Alessia’s house too, looking around you, you notice that some things as changed since you came the last time. She added some decorations. Alessia showed you during one of your FaceTime, but it’s different like this. You just have the time to look at the picture she took in Australia during the World Cup, before you feel her arms around you.

“I didn’t have my hello kiss.”

You smile, putting your hand on her arms.

“That’s a shame. It needs to be fixed.”

“It does.”

You turn around in her arms, passing both of yours around her neck. You take the time to look at her properly, her eyes, her freckles, and her smile, before leaning in to kiss her. You can’t explain how much you missed that feeling. Alessia sighs against you and you get even closer to her, melting in her embrace.

“That’s better” Alessia smiles after the kiss.

She then kisses your nose, your forehead, both of your cheeks and finish on your lips again.

“Are you tired? Do you want to take a nap while I’m cooking?”

“Like I’m going to sleep instead of being with you.” you snort.

Alessia rolls her eyes but takes you by your hand anyway. She made you sit on a stool at the central island of her kitchen with a mug of tea. You listen to her, Alessia making almost all the conversation, but it’s always like this between you. You love to hear her talking, trying to remember every little thing she says to you.

Your eyes are going sometimes on her bum, you have to admit. But if she notices, she doesn’t say anything. You proposed to help her two times, but she refused, saying that you can help tomorrow. You will.

Her lasagna is amazing.

“It’s my Nona’s recipe” Alessia smiles when you compliment her.

You made the dishes for her, ignoring her protests, and end up cuddle with her on her couch in front of some film she chooses. But you don’t even try to look at it, you are way more interested about your girlfriend than Blake Lively fighting for her life. You try hard not to bother her too much, but you can’t stop yourself from kissing her cheek, her hair or playing with her fingers.

But Alessia doesn’t seem to mind, actually she has a small smile on her face every time you look at her.

“I missed your smell” Alessia mumbles after another kiss.

You smile, because you said yourself the same things a lot of time during the time you were at Barcelona. And you promised yourself that you will take one of her hoodies when you will leave.

You stroke the skin of her neck with your nose before kissing it several times. But then she softly bites your ear, and you feel your body being swept by electric currents. The sensations are hard to ignore.

They are so hard to ignore that you found yourself with your girlfriend, both naked, some hours later, laying in her bed. Alessia is laying on her back while you are on her belly. One of her hands is playing with your hair and you are trying hard not to fall asleep already.

“Can I ask you something?” Alessia whispers “But you have to promise not to mock me.”

“Of course you can Sweetheart. I won’t make fun of you, promise.”

You turn your head on her to have a better look at her and even if the light of her bedside lamp isn’t strong, you can see that she had blush. You watch her bite her lip and fight the want to bite at it, too. You need to stay focused; you are curious about what is in her mind.

“So… As you know, you are my first girl experiment” she begins waiting for you to hum before talking again. “Well to know how to do things right, I made some research and…”

“You made research?” you ask with a smile.

But Alessia frowns, slapping you softly on your arm.

“Babe, you promised!”

“I’m not making fun of you” you swear, still smiling. “I find it cute.”

Alessia groans and you giggle softly, moving a little on her to be able to kiss her cheek. She’s hot under your lips, attesting of your girlfriend’s blush. She smiles though and clear her throat nervously before talking again.

“So, like I was saying, I made some research and I saw that there is a lot of things to use when two women are, you know, having sex?”

“Yes?” you only say, not wanting to interrupt her again.

“It made me wonder if maybe you like to use them? And if what we’re making is annoying for you. And then I thought that maybe I should buy some of them, but I didn’t know which one you like, or you want?”

She stops talking, a little out of breath. She talked quickly though and that might explain that. She seems nervous so you take her hand in yours to try to sooth her a little bit.

“Ok, first, what kind of things did you see?”

Alessia blushes violently and you can’t help but smile again.

“Alessia Russo, did you watch porn?” you laugh.

“No!” she shouts, sitting up in the bed. “I went to website selling toys, I didn’t watch adult’s movies.”

You roll your eyes, asking yourself how a girl you just have sex with can be so shy about something like that. But that’s the innocent part of Alessia talking maybe. And you love it as much as you love every other part of her. You sat too when she sat up and you take support on her knees to lean on her and kiss her.

“Ok first of all, what we are doing is absolutely perfect to me. It’s special because it’s you and I love every second of it, every time even more.”

You are close to admit how much she affects you, but it’s not exactly admitting that you are in love with her for years. You want to reassure her anyway; you had your first time with someone before and you don’t want Alessia to feel insecure. Or worst, not enough.

It seems to work because she is smiling again, and you can’t resist to the want to kiss her again.

“But if you want to try some things together, we can do it too. Or if you miss something –“

“No” she cuts you, shaking her head. “I don’t miss anything I swear.”

She’s blushing again but you feel like she’s telling you the truth. When she talks again, she’s mumbling, looking at her fingers.

“It’s just that I never felt that way before and I want you to feel as good as I am.”

You could literally melt right now. You take a big breath, drawing her attention on you again.

“Lessi, you have no idea how good you make me feel. Really.”

She seems skeptical though, looking at you attentively. That girl will be the death of you.

“But I’m not experimented like the other girls you slept with” she points, frowning. “How can it be as good as you say?”

“I told you. Because it’s you.”

She looks at you for several seconds before smiling shyly, and you are smiling back. You are touched that she had this process and how much your well-being count for her. You sometimes struggle to realize that after all those years you are Alessia Russo’s… things. You really had to talk about it at some point, but the talk you’re having tonight is maybe enough for now.

“Do you want to buy some things though?” Alessia asks. “You didn’t answer about you having anything, but I don’t really want to use something you already… Well, you know.”

“I understand” you smile softly. “We’ll look together, ok?”

Laying down on the bed again, you take her in your arms this time, kissing her softly. She seems to be relaxed now and you let yourself go against Alessia’s mattress. You love sleeping here. Everything smells Alessia.

“By the way, please don’t tell Leah what we’ve done tonight. We’re not supposed to do something physically tiring the night before games.” Alessia smirks several minutes after, making you laugh.

********

You need a little bit of conviction to get up from the bed and your girlfriend embrace the day after. You are still a bit tired and it’s only the idea of Leah coming to find you both in bed because you are late that makes you get up.

“You are late” Leah grumble when you arrive with Alessia.

“Sorry, sleepyhead here had trouble getting up” Alessia smirks.

“I’m on the Spanish schedule, it’s not my fault” you yawn.

Leah don’t have time to grumble one more time, because the waitress came soon after to give you the menu to chose what to eat. You study it with seriousness, your stomach feeling a little bit empty.

“The usual Less?” the waitress asks to Alessia.

You frown, looking at your girlfriend who nod and give her menu back. Leah passes her command after her and you have to fight the strange feeling you have to ask what you want too. Leah seems to have forget about your delay when the waitress left, but you still have that mix of jealousy and discomfort. Alessia never hide what she does during her day, and she told you several time that she went to brunch or eat breakfast with some of her teammates, but you never imagined that there will be a pretty brunette who seems to know your girlfriend’s order by heart.

“I’m talking to you, Sleepy” Leah says, kicking you under the table.

“Wow, way to hurt your opponent?” you grumble while Leah rolls her eyes. “What was it again?”

“Keira. She asks me to remember to bring her Scones.”

“Oh” you smirk softly, remembering what happened in the locker room yesterday. “She told you that she knows about Alessia and I?”

You explain to Alessia yesterday what happened, and she’s smiling too. She didn’t look sad or hurt that you kind of forgot to talk about it to Keira.

“She told me she discovered because your teammates can’t keep their mouths shut” Leah smirk.

“It was Lucy to be fair.”

Leah rolls her eyes one more time while Alessia laughs, but your smile is quickly faded when the waitress is back. She once again turns in Alessia’s direction with a big smile at first, before giving Leah’s plate then yours. You don’t like the way she looks at your girlfriend or even how she smiles at her.

Your eyebrows are still frown when you look at your plate and suddenly the bacon in it doesn’t seems as yummy as it should. Being already concerned by your changing mood, Alessia discreetly take your hand in hers while Leah is concentrated in her plate.

“What’s up?” Alessia whispers.

“Nothing” you say, forcing a smile.

But that doesn’t work. Alessia frowns, looking deeply into your eyes.

“Communication, remember?”

You sigh softly. She’s right, you promised each other to always talk to the other is something is wrong. But you don’t want to do it here.

“Later, ok?”

Alessia nods, but she doesn’t let go of your hand and relax only when you start to eat. The food is delicious to be honest and you understand why Alessia keep coming here. You don’t know what you will say to her about your feelings, you feel bad at the idea of depriving her from this menu.

When you’re finish, you went right to the stadium. You follow Leah in the parking lot and then follow Alessia who introduces you to the different places and people who punctuate her training sessions. You meet almost all of her teammates too, even if you know some of them already. Like Laia Codina, who you know because she was at Barcelona and that you are happy to see again or Beth Mead with who you play for England.

You already know Lia or Jen because of Leah and you are kind of relax around the team. When they need to get training, Alessia goes with you to the friend and family section, holding your hand.

“So, what happened during the breakfast?” Alessia asks.

You sigh softly. You have forgotten that you were supposed to talk to your girlfriend about this. You look at her and she’s already looking at you, concern in her soft baby blue eyes.

“It’s nothing, it’s just… that girl from the Café? The waitress?” Alessia nods, so you continue. “She was looking at you like you are the most beautiful thing in the world and she’s right because you are, but it makes me realize that she can see you every morning if she wants to and I can’t. And that made me miss you, which is probably stupid because you were sitting right next to me, but…”

You shrug, not knowing how to end your sentence. But Alessia nods once again, seeming to understand what you were meaning. Which is already relieving at your eyes. She squeezes your hand softly before answering.

“It’s not stupid at all, I understand the feeling. I miss to have you next to me in the morning and falling asleep against you at night. I miss you almost every second of the day. But we chose to give us a chance and we knew what it would be. I’m sure it’s worth it.”

You feel your heart fluttered once again and you look around you to be sure that no one is near you, before taking her tight in your arms. She holds you as tight as you are doing, and it help you to feel better.

“I have nothing to worry about, right?” you whisper with your chin on her shoulder.

“Nothing.”

She backs her head to have a look at you and she’s smiling softly. You trust her, of course you do. She’s like the sweetest and the gentlest human being. And then she kisses you, not long but softly.

When Alessia left you in the family and friend section, you go to look for your seat, but you are soon spotted by Amanda, Leah’s mom. She waves at you and makes sign for you to come to her, which you do because no one can refuse anything to Leah’s mum.

“Hi darling!” she says happily when you are at her level. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Oh, uh…” you mumble while she hugs you.

“Leah told me why you’re here, but don’t worry your secret is safe with me.”

She smiles at you, taping your cheek in a motherly way before making you sit next to her. You recognize next to her Leah’s nan, who you salute too. Amanda looks at your shirt, raising an eyebrow.

“Not wearing an Arsenal jersey?”

“Alexia would probably kill me if I do something like this” you laugh. “Maybe she would make an exception for Alessia’s, but I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”

“Why that? Everyone seems to think that Less and you are good friends.”

Amanda seems to know what happened in the social media, with the video of you going to recomfort Alessia after the finale in Australia. Everyone said how much you are a good friend, choosing to make your friend’s feelings better rather than being focused on yours.

“I’ll think about it for the next time” you promise.

“Great. In the meantime, wear this.”

Without letting you the time to look at what it exactly was, Amanda put one Arsenal scarf on your shoulders. Leah’s face is print on it, and if you don’t see at least one twitt or one TikTok editing you with your friend, it would be a miracle.

[seldomscilence16]

The Dream au gift part 3!

So at some point in this part, a character will 'make a face', obviously whatever face you think is valid, but it was in fact an accident on my part and I decided it could stay cause I imagined the character making that face and thought 'yeah he would'. But such a face is not one I can describe easily, so feel free to send your best pictures/memes of faces you thought of! And check out the dream au tag!

.

John Dory drops from the vents in a roll, the empty room so much larger than himself somehow feels stifling all the same. He finds an empty perfume glass, though it doesn’t smell like perfume, rather he sees speckles of familiar stomach churning glittery red and a smell he can only describe as suffering. 

There's no sign of Floyd. 

A shadow falls over him, not unlike the nightmare that the tree was, he sees a hand- giant and quick- reaching towards him. He has seconds to react, to dodge and run and get back into the vent, blood rushing in his ears too loud to catch whatever the giant screeches. Huddled in the vents, hair surrounding him, he makes no sound as he waits the giants out. Always hide. They can catch you if they can see you.

“Find him! The rage dome is around the corner and we need his talent!” 

John doesn’t stick around to hear the rest. His brother wasn’t here. 

But maybe… maybe he was somewhere else, maybe they all were. 

.

It started as a mostly normal day. 

Sure there was that strange critter that definitely got eaten by another, but Clay was putting it behind him thank you very much. 

So as night crawled closer, and their little colony settled into their normal nighttime routine, he was ready to chalk up that uneasy feeling in his gut to a bad milkshake. Of course, that is always when the universe decides to mess with him. 

A scout issues the warning noise for approaching unknowns, and Viva issues the camo and ready defenses response call. The course is dark and silent, and Clay can make out what sounds like voices and wooden wheels on the overgrown path that might have once been a road. Rarely do they get anything more dangerous than a large critter, to hear an… argument? It has them all on edge. 

He ushers the younger Trolls further into their hidey hole, hears Viva’s scary clown voice begin, and waits for any sign they’ll need to activate the rest of their defenses. 

“-Trolls?” 

His ears flicker, the clown shuts down, he heads out of hiding cautiously. 

Viva is talking with two Trolls. One with hooved feet and red hair, a scruffy stressed face, and the other bright pink and more familiar features. Behind them is a shorter troll who looks akin to the taller, and three more behind him. Despite the oddness of three of them, his eyes are drawn to the one eyeing the course with a tense line to his shoulders. 

There's something about him, and the feeling of familiarity only grows the closer he gets. When their eyes meet, despite how different he looks from his memory, Clay knows. 

“Baby Branch?”  

But his little brother does not light up and smile that joyous smile, 

“Just Branch.” And gosh doesn't he sound so different too, what happened to that little boy he knew? 

“You okay Branch?” The other Troll, the Pink one, slips her paw into his, a worried look on her face. 

The softness that enters his eyes, that blue shine it had lacked just a moment ago, tells Clay all he needs to know about who this is to his brother. 

“Yeah Poppy.” He turns back to Clay, a guarded look about him, “We just found the wrong brother is all.” 

Her own eyes are intense as she turns to him, and he knows he’s seen that look somewhere before,

“Hi, I’m Poppy.” Despite her cheery tone, there's an underlying hardness to it, “We’re here looking for Floyd, his boyfriend hasn’t seen him in months and he’s been worried sick. Don’t suppose you’ve seen him?” 

It's a lot to take in, he finds himself blinking several times, 

“Floyd’s… missing?” 

“News to me too.” Branch confirms, “Since I thought you all were dead, or at least dead to me.” He shrugs, ignoring Poppy’s light smack in admonishment, though Clay thinks it was more for show than anything. 

“He’s… he’s not here. I haven’t seen him since… Does this mean you guys made it through the tunnels??” 

Branch’s brow furrows and a million emotions flash through his eyes, Poppy is the one that answers,

“Floyd wasn’t part of the Escape…” Hesitant as she gauges Branch’s mood. 

“But… He was with you and Grandma..”

“I haven’t seen any of you since that night.” Branch finally says, shoulders slumping, “We were following a flying critter of some kind, Dickory says it usually stays around giants, so we were hoping it would lead us to some.” 

“Giants?” Clays voice lowers, “Do you mean Bergens?” 

“Oh no, not at all! We’ve established peace with the Bergens now! I’m best friends with the future Queen.” Poppy’s bright tone is met with silence, several Putt Putts have already rolled away to hide, a child is crying he thinks. 

“So… he was taken by different giants…?” 

“It's a long story.” 

.

“This guy?” Clay jerks a thumb where Hickory is still talking with Viva, an incredulous curve to his brows.

Branch nods, his own face betraying his astonishment. 

Hickory wasn’t a bad dude, despite the whole… thing that happened a few months ago, but it was still weird to learn of his previously thought dead brothers love life before he even knew about his life life. And Poppy mentioned something about the whole, siblings teasing each other's relationships? But he’s not 100% sure about all that either. 

Mostly Branch was just trying to ignore the hole in his heart in favor of actually finding his brother, he could deal with everything else later. 

“So, what's our next lead?” Barb sidles up beside them awkwardly, Poppy joining the two yodelers and Putt Putt leader. 

“There's only so many Giants within the area of the Kingdoms.” Branch points out, to which the Queen nods her agreement, Clay giving a tight-lipped, lost look but motioning for him to continue anyway, “I doubt it was Bergens, Gristle has warned the other settlements and it's kinda hard to miss them. So we just find the next closest one?” Branch ends it on a question, he’s not well versed in ALL giants, honestly he's just well versed in fighting things bigger than himself, but he’s still learning about the other Troll Tribes, he hasn't gotten around to other races yet. 

“I mean I guess that's fair…” Barb pulls a map from her bag, the updated ones the Funk Trolls had worked on, “I guess it would be this mountain thing over here.” 

Clay and Branch look over her shoulders, seeing the strange mountain labeled Rageous. It's not far considering, but far enough to remain unseen in their adventures. 

“Rageous sounds dangerous-” Clay pauses, a face made at his own semi rhyme, “But what would they want with a Troll?” 

.

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[bri-cheeses]

Good Friends - Part 3

| Rosekiller microfic | Word count: 487 | Part two is here |

-

“Thanks for that,” Evan said sourly, still looking annoyed.

James winced. “I’m sorry.”

A long suffering sigh escaped Evan. He looked down at his drink.

“No, no, I know you are.” James frowned at the defeated tone of Evan’s voice. “And I shouldn’t take it out on you. I just get tired of the way he reacts to things sometimes, that’s all.”

And if that wasn’t one of the saddest things James had ever heard, he didn’t know what was. He didn’t want to overstep, but… he liked Evan, despite not talking to him all that much. And when James cared about someone, he hated to see them unhappy, so he just couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Then why don’t you say anything about it?”

Evan’s eyebrows pinched at James’s words, and he looked in the direction that Barty and Regulus had gone off in.

“We’re getting there,” Evan said decisively.“It’s slow going, sure, but it’ll work out.”

James decided against pointing out the fact that Evan sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than he was trying to convince James. And with his refusal to burst Evan’s bubble, they settled into a comfortable silence.

At least, James thought it was comfortable. Evan looked content with it, but as a general rule, James had never been the best with silences. But if Evan didn’t feel like talking, then that was fine by him.

Just when James started to fidget with restlessness, Barty and Regulus returned.

Evan, of course, lit up like a Christmas tree. James imagined that he looked similar as Regulus walked toward him, looking simultaneously heavenly and downright sinful as always. Merlin, James loved him.

“What did you do to get Barty back to normal?” James asked, voice low. He was curious about how one went about handling this whole situation.

Regulus leveled an unimpressed look at Barty, who was busy handing Evan a drink, letting their fingers brush against each other for just a bit too long. James felt a frown tug at his mouth at Evan’s pained expression.

“I just told him that you had a hard time distinguishing platonic relationships from romantic ones.”

James turned to look at him.

“Really?” He asked incredulously.

“Sorry, but it worked. They’re back to their usual idiotic selves, so I think it was a win.”

And James immediately realized that Regulus was right about them being back to normal. Barty had a fond look on his face as he watched Evan gesture about something that had happened, occasionally spilling a bit of drink over the side of his cup as he moved. Each time, Barty would step closer and right Evan’s hand for him, the tiny action somehow so intimate that it felt like an intrusion for anyone to be watching it.

And despite Barty’s flightiness, James chose to believe what Evan had said earlier.

They would work it out.

They had to.

-

(The End!)

[elvensorceress]

wip wednesday

tagged by @bekkachaos @tizniz @spotsandsocks @confetti-cupcake @wikiangela @hoodie-buck @exhuastedpigeon @sibylsleaves @daffi-990 @theotherbuckley @hippolotamus tagging if you haven't played yet 💕 @eddiebabygirldiaz @wh0re-behavi0r @eddiediazisascorpio @kitteneddiediaz @monsterrae1 @lemonzestywrites @pinklobstertale @jesuiscenseedormir @jesuisici33 @chaosandwolves @frenziedblaze @family-tree-of-ships

some more of this little thing 👀

When Buck opens his eyes, someone is sitting on the couch near his feet the way Chris does. Someone who shouldn’t be here. Buck sits up frantically and stares at the vision of Eddie, healthy and beautiful and here and unharmed. 

Buck is dreaming. That’s it. Has to be. Wow, he actually fell asleep? Enough to dream? 

“Hey, Buck,” this Eddie says softly, and it sounds so real. It’s gentle and loving and full of warmth like Eddie always is when they talk. 

Buck reaches for him. He sits up and needs to hug him, hold him, feel him alive and breathing on his own. But when Buck reaches him, he touches nothing. There’s nothing to touch. 

He’s dreaming. It’s a vision. Nothing solid. Buck sags and sits back on his side of the couch and stares instead. Maybe looking at whole, healthy beautiful Eddie will somehow manifest this into reality. “You’re not real. You’re not here. I’m dreaming, right? And talking to myself? Apparently.”

“Either that or I am,” Eddie says. 

Buck hadn’t considered that. Maybe Buck is the one who isn’t real. Maybe none of this is real and the whole of his existence is in his mind. Or in the mind of someone else? 

Who knows. It’s too convoluted and too much to think about. But he’s read about this happening before. Someone’s loved one in the hospital, near death, and how their family had dreams or visions of them visiting. Maybe relaying messages. Maybe offering a comforting presence. Maybe nothing but the imagination of a mind wrecked by tragedy. Doesn’t really matter either way. 

“Why are you here? Buck asks him even if he’s talking to himself. 

Eddie swallows and looks pained. And so real. So, so vividly real. Even if nothing is real anymore. “I wanted to be with you.”

Buck reaches for him again because he has to. Eddie offers his hand in return this time. 

Their fingers go through each other. Not touching. Nothing to feel. Nothing tangible. 

They can’t touch.

Why would they? Even in a dream, they don’t get to have anything of each other. 

“Please don’t die,” Buck says. 

Eddie gives him a pained smile. “I’m trying really hard not to.” 

Buck knows that. He knows Eddie would fight. Is fighting. He had to say it anyway. “Why did you— why? I mean I know it’s our job and that’s what we do. But what happened? Why— why was it like that? Why did it end up like that?” 

Did you do it on purpose? Did you sacrifice yourself to save Tommy? Did you do that?

Eddie looks away from him, exactly how real Eddie would. He shrugs. As if it’s nothing. As if it’s just an accident. As if there was no emotion behind anything. “I know you need him. I wasn’t going to let you lose him.”

Buck closes his eyes, bends his head, and just wants to cry again like he has been for more than two weeks. “Eddie,” he sobs and clutches himself around his chest, around his own body since he can’t touch Eddie. “I need you, too. I can’t— This isn’t okay. This is worse. This is so much worse. Not that I want it the other way. It would have killed me, too. But. I can’t do this. I can’t lose you. I need you, too.”

“I figured,” Eddie says quietly. So quiet and strained and absent and distant. Too distant. “If you had to choose. You already chose. You picked him. I couldn’t let you lose him.” 

At this point, Buck isn’t sure which is worse— if this is real and what Eddie really thinks or if this is his own mind telling him what he already feels guilty about. 

[michellymy]

(I love the nixies. I wanted to “talk” nixian with them)

AO3

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Heated

They weren’t there anymore.

Kenyan searched the garden upside down, the castle, the forest, the city… but nobody saw them. Sure, her description of them wasn’t the greatest, but people had to notice that glowing person. They weren’t someone you glance at only once; they were like a magnet attracting her, and it should have happened with everyone else, too.

So where could they have gone?

She even wondered if they were an image from her mind, but, as far as she knew, hallucinations don’t act like they did:

An intruder broke the castle’s window yesterday, messed up Sylris’s chambers, stole food from the kitchen, cleaned her chambers, and put a big stuffed panda on her bed.

And nobody, not even Hiélo who was in her room, heard or saw anything while it happened. The only witness of the supposed “intruder” was her, Kenyan, when she was high, sleep-deprived, and with loss of blood.

It couldn’t have happened for real. They weren’t real. What she saw wasn’t an intruder. They even claimed the garden their home! What kind of intruder would be this bold at Maivtre? And the guards also searched for them in the garden, asked the Nixies if they noticed something and… nothing.

They had to be a figment of her imagination. A self-relief her brain came up with, that somehow worked.

Last night she fell in a deep slumber while hugging that panda (Hiélo said she threatened to set fire on him if he tried to take it), and that was far the best sleep she had in years. No dreams, no nightmares, no interruptions… just a full eight hours of rest. The migraine and nausea still came when she woke up, but that was common. She couldn’t have asked for anything better! Her mind was useful for once!

But even after being sure that person was something she invented, there she was in the garden, crouched by the flowers and signing to a group of Nixies.

Person. Light. There. Me. ?

And they shook their heads, no. Kenyan frowned slightly and tried again.

Walking. Jumping. Happy. Here. Home. ?

And they shook their heads, no. Also, one flew to Kenyan’s head, touched her forehead and dragged their tiny hands down her face. After staring at her, the nixie flattened their wings.

“You’re getting crazy. You were falling apart. Are you okay?”

She huffed and got up, quickly signing a “fine” for them.

“I told you,” the rough voice sounded behind her. “Nobody saw the intruder.”

“Yes, Élo, thank you for pointing out the obvious,” she replied harsher than expected.

His eyes squinted at her as they walked towards the tree. It was enormous, providing the same shadow she had used yesterday. The same shadow she shared with them. Right there. Where she felt them, their warmth, their excitement, and their happiness for being with her.

Could you imagine it? Even Kenyan herself couldn’t stand her presence, and someone, something, actually liked her!

“Kenyan, do you seriously don’t remember anything about their appearance? Gender? Voice?”

She sighed hard, rolling her eyes before turning at him.

“Why would I lie about it?” Her eyebrows raised. “Haven’t I been searching for them as well?!”

“How can I know what’s going on in your mind?” He crossed his arms. “They got you a teddy bear; how can I know if you aren’t keeping them hidden because of it?”

She flinched with the sharp pain on her head.

“Please, Hiélo, I might be a menace, but I am not reckless about this kingdom.” Her face scrunched. “If you think I can’t distinguish between safe and dangerous, you might as well have a problem with your mind.”

His jaw clenched as his tail lashed back and forth. Then, looking away, he pursed his lips. Avoiding talking to her. Avoiding her.

It was dizzying.

“Say it,” she demanded. “Now, while I’m listening.”

“…it’s not relevant.”

“I decide what’s relevant. Say it.”

He looked at her in that same reprimanding way. As if he was her father. As if she was a brat. As if he knew better than her.

“Look, I don’t want to offend you, but all you have been doing are dangerous and reckless things.”

“Ah, is that so? Thank you for pointing out the obvious.” She closed her hands on fists as her chest rose and fell. “I am aware of my dangerous and reckless behavior, General, and despite everything, I am still the Maivtre of this nation. I care about my people. I’ve been doing what I can to bear this burden, and I won’t doom it all over a teddy bear, as you swiftly placed in your statement.”

His eyes softened and her body tensed, shaking in disbelief.

“Kenyan, you know this isn’t what I said…” He reached for her hand, unclenching her fingers carefully. “I’m sorry if it sounded like that, I won’t ask again. Could you sit down and breathe slowly? Your head will get better if you do.”

There it goes. Hiélo, the white knight, and Kenyan, the poor queen.

Kenyan this! Kenyan that! Kenyan should! Kenyan could! Kenyan’s dumb! Kenyan’s wrong!

When will they stop treating her like a fool?

She shoved his hand away and paced back. “Keep guard from the outside. I’ll stay here for longer.”

“But you’re not fine, you should call the doct—“

“Yes, cause of my migraine, I am aware!” She glared at him. “Get out!”

He looked hurt at her, but she was already approaching the tree, finding that comforting spot amidst the roots. When she sat, he was marching at the door, and the place finally got its quietude back.

Her head leaned against the tree, and she breathed in, trying to control her heart. That unending pain was shattering her sanity, and the lack of answers wasn’t helping.

If that person was there, would they help her to calm?

No, but who in the cosmos could they be? A single day they appeared, and everything was messed up that much. A single day, and half the castle hates them. A single day, and they got her obsessed with them.

And they weren’t even real, were they? They came from her fractured soul.

So why couldn’t she summon them when she needed? Why wouldn’t they appear now? Why can’t they hear her crying?

[twinklecupcake]

@starsfic: Mengying spends time chilling with Princess Iron Fan bc Ao Lie got recruited to help Wukong and DBK with something. Years later Iron Fan casually drops that meeting to Xiaojiao.

anon: Did Ao Lie's wife or children ever visit Flower Fruit Mountain? Because imagine Xiaojiao's first visit and a few dozen monkeys rush up because she looks like her several greats grandmother

Mei was watching a historical drama with Iron Fan when it happened.

The two of them had stopped really paying attention to the events onscreen - to be fair, this one was a rerun - and had begun gossiping instead. 

Somehow the subject had turned to Sun Wukong and his monkeys, and then…

“--and whenever we stop by, like whether it was the beach party or when we fixed his house, a ton of the monkeys just swarm over to me. MK says they do that to everyone, and I’m not too surprised - I mean, everyone else definitely looks like his old buddies, but for me it’s kinda weird.” She popped a chip into her mouth. “I mean, I’ve seen Grandpa, I don’t look that much like him.”

“Not completely, but you do look a lot like your grandmother.”

Iron Fan said it so casually that at first Mei didn’t register what she said.

Then she gasped so hard she inhaled the chips and fell into a coughing fit.

“Mei? Are you okay?” Red Son yelled from the kitchen with DBK.

“Fine, good, just went down the wrong pipe!” Mei managed after taking a drink. Then she whirled around to face Iron Fan, her eyes wide. “You knew Grandma?” she whispered.

Iron Fan raised a perfectly-arched eyebrow. “Knew her? She stayed with me for a time.”

Mei drew in a long, high inhale.

“Oh, no need for that…”

–-

The official explanation that they’d given was that they didn’t want their wives to be lonely.

But Iron Fan knew full well both of them had been on their own before, in small increments of time.

No, the real explanation was We think it would be great if they got along.

(And, she suspected, the dragon likely didn’t relish leaving his mortal alone in the dragon court.

…it said something, she supposed, that he felt more comfortable leaving her with an ex-Celestial in a demon’s palace.)

Despite the different upbringings and mortalities, the two were getting on surprisingly well.

They guessed it started when their husbands were finally able to leave; Ao Lie had given her one last nuzzle against the tumble and released his hold on her, and she’d turned to see Iron Fan being reluctantly set back down by her own husband.

The two had locked eyes, and a mutual understanding had passed between them.

Iron Fan had smiled. Hopeless romantic? her eyes seemed to say.

Mengying nodded, face rosy. Terribly so, hers answered back.

And from there, it was smooth sailing.

Iron Fan showed her to the gardens, where Mengying excitedly praised the flora’s growth. They took tea beneath a flowering cherry blossom tree.

Mengying asked about animals, and didn’t seem remotely bothered when Iron Fan shrugged and said they were mostly for eating.

Ah, that’s right, Iron Fan thought to herself. Farm girl.

Still, when one of the chickens approached Mengying and started tugging at her skirts, Mengying had turned to her new friend and asked “Might we spare this one?”

“A chicken, dear girl?”

“I know, but it’s just so sweet, and Misty Morning might like more friends…”

Iron Fan shrugged, looking nonchalant but still saying: “If it will please you so much, you may take her.” And then after a moment’s pause, “Take one of the roosters, too, actually.”

“Oh, thank you, friend! Lie will like them, too!”

Iron Fan ordered the chefs to not prepare chicken that night. It seemed inappropriate.

They were even able to bond a little bit over frustrating nobles. 

Iron Fan complained of one of her husband’s brothers and his wandering eye.

Mengying sighed and admitted she still felt out of place; her husband helped however he could, and he was the odd one himself, but still… It felt terribly lonely sometimes.

Iron Fan’s eyes softened slightly, and she covered Mengying’s hand with one of hers. “Pay no mind to them,” she said sharply. “You’re one of our family now. You two have plenty of allies.”

By the time the three men returned, Iron Fan and Mengying were talking and getting on as if they’d been sisters for much longer than they had.

“Do come see us again,” Iron Fan said, ignoring how Sun Wukong’s face lit up in excitement and his tail started to wag a bit. “I’ve enjoyed having another woman around.”

“Oh, we will.” 

–-

“And…?” Mei prompted, leaning forward on the couch.

“What else is there to tell?” Iron Fan said with a shrug. “They did come back. We weren’t frequently able to visit them, but between all of us, we found ways. I was the first one after her father Mengying told when she was expecting their firstborn.”

Something flickered in her eyes, and she lowered her teacup, staring almost wistfully at the floor.

“After she… she was mortal, I knew. But it did not lessen the pain.”

The silence fell thick and heavy with grief.

Mei let her mother-in-law take a few moments, then cleared her throat awkwardly. “I, uh… wish I could’ve met her, too. Like I did Grandpa.”

“As do I…”

“...so… uhm, weird question… you seriously gave her a chicken and rooster?”

“Uhm-hm. They had quite a few eggs together…” Iron Fan nodded towards Diandian as the fat chicken wandered into the room. “Guess where she came from.”

“.....no. Freaking. Way.”

[thespiritssaidso]

Mistakes Happen (And That's Okay)

Summary: Shawn and Juliet are having a baby. Juliet thinks that a small gender reveal for just the two of them would be a cute idea. But of course, mistakes happen. 

Notes: okay I’m not sure if anyone has seen it (if not, pleaseeee do), but there’s a TikTok of a couple doing a gender reveal the wife made and she messed up with the cake. The whole thing is super sweet, the husband comforts her and comes up with a solution and yea 

Anyways, I basically just based this prompt off of something that happened irl. Because it was cute and sweet and fluffy. So. Yea. It feels kinda cheap to me to do this instead of making up something on my own, but currently my imagination is at net zero. 

And yes, I know that Shawn and Jules canonically don’t want kids. I just thought this was a cute idea. 

Flufftober day 12: “I’ve Got You” (extra prompt)

—————

“This way, come on! I’ve got everything all set up!”

“Hang on, wait wait wait! Geez, Jules, I didn’t know you could go so fast in heels.” 

It was an especially sunny day at the park, or it seemed that way at least. A crisp breeze blew fallen leaves around, yellow and orange and red swirling through the air. The sound of children running around the small playground a few hundred yards away fell into the background as Shawn and Juliet walked – more like speed-walked – in the opposite direction, off into a small field surrounded by trees spaced out a few feet from each other. 

Earlier, about an hour or so ago, Juliet had enlisted the help of Gus to set up a little something for her and Shawn. A checkered blanket she’d borrowed from Carlton, a basket filled with champagne and two champagne bottles, and a homemade blue cake that Juliet had baked from a box and covered in white frosting and topped with blueberries and strawberries. 

The whole time they’d been setting up, Gus had been mock-complaining and making quips about how a gender reveal was the whitest thing Juliet had decided to do. 

See, Juliet was about four and a half months pregnant, long enough to have gotten an ultrasound from the sonographer to tell her what the baby’s gender was.  When she got the news, she knew Shawn would be over the moon when he found out as well. 

So that was why she’d arranged all of this (with Gus’ help of course). It took a lot of effort to keep it a secret from Shawn, but all he had been to figure out was that she was planning a gender reveal party for the two of them. 

Right now, Juliet was leading Shawn over to the little setup. Of course, she’d had Gus stay behind to watch over it and make sure that no one messed it up or stole anything, and then texted him when they were on their way. 

Soon enough, they had reached the little setup Juliet had worked so hard on. It looked better than she remembered it had, somehow. Even though it looked exactly the same. Maybe it was because she was with Shawn this time. 

“Oh look at that! There’s a blanket and a basket and everything!” He pointed at everything. 

Juliet nervously wrung her hands. “Do you like it? I didn’t want to do too much, but I still wanted to make it special-”

“It’s perfect! Jules, this is great!” Shawn sat down on the blanket immediately and tried to scoop some icing off the cake with his finger. 

Luckily Juliet was fast enough and stopped him with a quick and gentle slap on the wrist. She didn’t want him to accidentally reveal the cake color too soon. “Shawn! Not yet!” 

He dramatically drew his hand back and held it. “Ow!”

Juliet only smiled at Shawn as she sat down beside him. “Okay, so I already told you this in the car, but I just want to go over it again. We’ll take this,” she leaned past him and reached into the basket, pulling out the champagne glass, “and then use it to get a piece of the cake out. And whatever color it is will be the baby’s gender.” 

“Sounds good to me, Jules. Do you want to do it now?” he asked, reaching for the glass. 

“Yes! Yes yes yes! I can’t wait any longer.” Juliet was so excited. She knew Shawn had said that their baby’s gender didn’t matter, that he’d love them all the same no matter what. But of course he’d always ‘slip up’ and call them a boy.  

Together, they pushed the champagne glass into the cake to reveal- 

“Green? Isn’t it supposed to be… not green?” 

Juliet stared at the cake, heart sinking in her chest. No. No no no. What- how- no, she had- but- she had been certain she’d used blue dye, the batter had been blue and so had the outside of it right before she’d cover it in frosting… 

Then she remembered that the batter had been from a yellow cake mix. The food dye must have changed it into green when it went in the oven, but the outside remained blue while the inside went green. 

A million emotions ran through her already hormonally imbalanced mind, most prominently confusion, distraughtness, and anger. She knew that she was making a big deal out of nothing, but she couldn’t even think of that at the moment. She’d messed up, that’s all that mattered to her right then. 

Juliet couldn’t help the laughs that quickly turned into sobs. How could she ruin something so simple? One color, that’s all she had to do. But apparently she couldn’t do that right, either. 

Shawn noticed the quick change in her emotions. “Hey, woah woah woah, it’s okay! It’s alright, come here, Jules.” 

Tears clouding her vision, she fell towards where she heard her husband’s voice and felt him catch her. “It’s- it’s not supposed to be green, it’s- it’s not-” she hiccuped out, burying her face in his shoulder. She could feel the minimal makeup she’d put on for this smear.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you. I’ve got you. It’s just a cake.”

But it wasn’t just a cake, not to Juliet. It was the meaning of it, of the surprise it was supposed to hold. The surprise that Shawn still didn’t know. 

“Jules. Hey, look at me.” He said gently. 

Juliet sniffled, and did as he asked. Through tears, she saw her husband’s face, and it was so full of love. “Hm?” 

“It’s all going to be okay. Look, I still don’t know what the baby’s gender is. Nothing’s ruined, you’re okay.” He looked around, and Juliet could see he was thinking hard. “Uhh… oh! Here-”

Taking off an arm that was wrapped around her, Shawn leaned over to the cake and grabbed a strawberry and a blueberry. 

Juliet was confused now. “Shawn, what…?” 

“Okay, here, hold these.” He handed her the pieces of fruit, and she took them without a word, slowly understanding what he was trying to do. “You choose one of these, and I’ll close my eyes and you put one of them in my mouth. Strawberry if it’s a girl-”

“-and blueberry if it’s a boy?” Juliet finished. 

“Yes! Yes, exactly! Here, I’ll turn around.” 

And he did. It looked a little uncomfortable, having only his torso turned in the opposite direction while his lower half stayed seated where it originally was. 

She giggled at the overdramatic act. But it worked, it definitely made her feel better about the whole situation. 

Juliet already knew which one it was, so she popped the strawberry in her mouth. When she’d finished chewing, she said “Okay, I’m ready.” 

It was easy to see how hard Shawn was trying not to smile too big, and instead keep his mouth open for Juliet to put the chosen fruit in while one hand was clamped tight over his eyes. 

Juliet, carefully placed the blueberry in his awaiting mouth, anxiously anticipating his reaction. 

It wasn’t instantaneous. He had to sit for a moment. But when he realized what it meant, his hand fell from his face. Juliet had never seen his eyes so big before and full of joy. 

“We’re having a boy?!” He practically shouted in excitement. 

Juliet laughed again, and nodded her head emphatically. “Yes!” 

“Oh my god, Jules!” 

And they were both laughing so hard now, joy oozing from the couple as they hugged and fell into the grass behind them. 

“We’re having a boy!”

—————

Notes: sorry for posting kinda late, my energy’s been running low lately

ao3 link

[trans-beast]

Day 1: “Whose your digimon?”

Icarus is gonna hate this answer, but honestly? Dorumon. My introduction to the franchise was Digimon World 4 on the Gamecube, and it remains one of my favorite games ever to this very day. I can’t put my finger on it, but the moment I saw Dorumon, I instantly knew I connected with him somehow.

When I took to the internet as a kid to learn more about him, I ended up feeling even closer.

Dorumon was an outcast. He was a prototype digimon with lots of potential to become lots of powerful things, and everyone hated him for being born with built-in favoritism from Yggdrasil. He was kinda like a stem mammal for digimon, a living digital fossil. And during the events of X Evolution, the movie Digimon World 4 was actually based on, Yggdrasil wanted to do a hard reset on the digital world, basically cause an apocalypse to clear up some space. And Dorumon was one of the few who was born with the X Antibody, a trait that ensures you don’t get nuked and will survive in the next world to come.

Growing up, I was an outcast too. I didn’t have friends. I became socially stunted, exacerbating the issue. I also felt like even if they’d let me hang out, I would quickly discover that my brain worked very differently. At 8 years old I already had a concept of the finality of death and was having a ludicrous existential crisis. Other 8 year olds were more preoccupied with whose action figure collection was cooler. I was always “weird”, “annoying”, “scary”…and I had to just settle for making friends with my cat, and any other animals I could interact with.

Then, next thing I knew, I now growled and hissed when I was upset, without really even thinking about it. It just…happened. People started treating me like a zoo animal. I definitely got some rumors spread about me.

Likewise, dorumon turned into all kinds of fearsome shaped, many of them dragons, with metallic powers to match. But underneath all that, he was still just a misunderstood creature, who still had it in him to be kind to others who didn’t attack him first. He’s die for the few friends he made. And I guess I felt the same way about my friends, once I finally got some human ones.

No matter how many teeth they had, all those big, intimidating dragons still had a layer of downy fur to cuddle into.

These days I’ve changed. I’ve gotten friends that I intend to hold very, very closely. I even have a boyfriend who I love deeply, he’s someone who loves me for me. I’m more interested in Gazimon now, who was always a second favorite for me even back then. Now he’s about even with Dorumon for me.

Why gazimon? Well, partially because he hits some of the same outcast vibes, but he also strikes me as more scrappy. He’s been dealt a bad hand, he has less impressive strength than dorumon and is better suited to being a malicious prankster rather than an actual threat. His main skill is to just stun you and run away. Dorumon gets to launch metal projectiles out of his mouth. Gazimon is an underdog. I love me an underdog.

What’s more, virus types with a demonic theme are definitely more my aesthetic. Christians hated me plenty, especially with the hissing and all, as you can imagine. Weird that they told me to go to hell, then acted surprised when I decided to embrace devils and hellfire as an aesthetic.

Gazimon is also my favorite color. Pale grey. He has that basic wild animal motif that always felt more “me”.

Icarus in particular has the following digivolution tree:

Zurumon

Pagumon

Gazimon

Devidramon

Mephistomon

Ornismon

Gargoylemon (Armor digivolution)

[talenlee]

Corrindale: A Place For Places To Happen In

Hey, what’s in the Pacific Ocean?

I mean that sounds funny doesn’t it? There’s nothing in the Pacific Ocean. Not really, I mean, there are places like Macronesia and Aotearea and Hawaii and Samoa and Guam and Japan but those aren’t in the Pacific Ocean, even if they’re literally surrounded by it. There’s several mountains, there’s a seam where the ground is being made brand new, the Mariana Trench, the Tonga Trench, and the Phillipine Trench, to just mention ones I’m reasonably sure still exist since I was in high school. Despite the presence of people living in the space within the boundary declared as the edges of the Pacific Ocean, the Pacific Ocean has a population of close enough to zero as to make no difference.

We think of the Ocean this way for a reason, mostly because we can’t put anything there. If someone did build a city in the ocean somehow, all Bioshock Style, it wouldn’t work as a fill bucket tool, a sort of capture the flag rules set up of filling in all the ocean as their territory – it would just be another place which, probably, had territory extending out to the edges of what they’d built a bit, like any land mass has.

This is how the people of Cobrin’Seil think of the Corrindale Forest. It is not a place, of its own, and nor should it be considered as such. The southern parts of the Corrindale forest rest at the equator and lick warm sea coastline. The people of Kyranou see the Corrindale forest at the edges of land when they go fishing. The people of Dal Raeda’s northern borders can stand on the beach and look across the bay at the southernmost parts of Corrindale Forest. Slinging to the opposite side of the continent, though, the only thing that stops the Corrindale forest going north is the inevitable boundaries of frozen ground: The forest thins out as it creeps up mountains and then tumbles down the far side of the mountain into the region that you’d call ‘arctic.’

That is to say, in comparison to Earth, the Corrindale Forest in its entirety reaches from about Mexico to Nunavut.

The character and temper of the forest changes, along this vast spread. When you stand anywhere in the forest you might imagine what you see is entirely homogenous, vast trees that create a dark and silent cloak in their midst, but travel a few kilometers north or south and you find the foliage different, the wildlife different, but once agian, homogenous. The vastness of a forest of this ilk is hard to explain. People avoid going off paths and trails in the forest because it’s so big, and so deep, that it’s entirely possible to be completely lost just by the environment itself.

There are beasts in the Corrindale forests, but the forest is, itself, the great, oppressive vastness that’s most disquieting. As one floats in the ocean and sees the emerging shape of a vast banking whale, so too one can stand in the Corrindale forest, and see stretching out all around, trees, offset to one another so that there’s no way to see anywhere that you’re not seeing a tree, no single sliver of visual space that is not occupied by trees near or far, and that when something emerges from the greyness and the fogginess created by the canopy of the Corrindale forest, that you do not know how far or close it really is…

Nor how big.

The forest was once this vast because of nature alone; leave enough trees alone for long enough, before people existed, and you’d get something of this impressive breadth. Now the Corrindale Forest is a thing maintained. People peck at its borders, logging and deforming and changing its shape a little, but that’s done as an act of daring, knowing that the forest has people who live there who will retaliate. What’s more it’s not a given? You don’t know who or where or on what time scale. What space within Corrindale exists that is definitively not Corrindale is territory that was hard fought for and in some cases resultant of an actual treaty.

Sometimes, you chop down trees to expand your farmland and a bunch of elves come out of the forest to interrupt. Sometimes, you don’t get interrupted and a gang of kobolds show up a week later to let you know you’ve given the farmland to a dragon sleeping nearby. Sometimes, nothing happens at all. Sometimes, something old stirs in the dark, and the treeline is restored and expanded.

Corrindale is a forest but it’s a forest the way the Daintree is a forest, the way that The Deep Dark is a forest, the way that the Moon is an Ocean. There is something about the Corrindale Forest that represents a vastness, a terrifying, ancient, darkness, and a reminder that it was here before every city and, if it takes measures, it will be here after they have all fallen and their parasites and hosts both have all rotted away.

There are, within Corrindale Forest, a network of Elf communities sometimes glibly known as ‘Elvish nations,’ which is a bit like calling a treehouse a fortress. There are the Portal Pathways into the Manses of the Eladrin and down into the linked world of the Drow’s Dreaming Dark. There are orcish communities and there are several druidic orders. Thing is, for each of these though, none of them are wholly contained in the forest. They all reach out and across into other spaces, none of them are entirely contained.

There are cities and there are nations inside the Corrindale Forests’s boundaries. There’s the Wu Kan’s only city, the mountain transplanted by Sunmon Tzu, where if you look behind the waterfall you find a hoard of gold overseen by a horde of monkey people. But, like islands in an ocean, they are not ‘in’ the forest. Corrindale Forest has two long strips of the King’s Highway through it, linking all the Eresh territories within Corrindale Forest. Those strips represent the single largest work project that exists within the Forest, stretched from almost the Dal Raedan borderlands up to the snowy fortress city perched above the snowline. The Ragauzan who patrol it are borderline pagans. The Church Authorities of Olifar have demanded that Raguzans who patrol there be cycled back to more central locations for fear of creating hooting cults of people who wear antlers and imagine themselves as snakes.

Corrindale is a place, but it is a place like an ocean. It is a place for places to be in.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Ok same before BLLK I was like knee deep in JJK (do you have a fav?? I’m personally a raging Inumaki advocate LMAO) but after discovering BLLK and also seeing where the story went…..yeah….i can’t say I’m caught up on all the leaks (everything between Gojo sliced to Yuta copying kenjaku) only because I got so confused and I genuinely have no idea what happened I just know people were dropping like flies left and right…I’m hoping gege has a plan because not to be overly critical but I could not see ANY plot for awhile LMAO it was just kinda an ongoing toss someone into the Sukuna fight tag team whoops they died next person kinda vibe for me too….if I’m being honest I think I was originally captivated by the whole premise of jjk and the fighting curses thing that was most prominent in the content covered up to shibuya but I think I was slowly fading from culling games…something about it just seemed so different from what jjk had built up to be originally (or I just was too hard stuck on its original kinda theme of sorcerer vs curse strictly..simpler times…)

Also I don’t know how much you’ve seen of these but the recent exhibition content?? Where apparently gege clears up some stuff about the camellia being not a camellia and throwing people for a loop like I’m NGL I thought that was kinda ridiculous like huh??? I can’t tell if maybe it’s just a mistranslation but the never ending cycle of “DADDYS HOME”(meme ref I wouldn’t actually call gojo daddy for disclaimer’s sake LOL) to “it’s gojover” burnt me out…but LMAO I def remember reading culling games for the first time and talking to my friend being like yeah I’m just gonna wait for this to be animated because I have no idea how hakaris ct works

I love we have Otoya at one end of the disrespect spectrum yuki at the other and karasu in between LMAO

Ah yes agency my fav word fr!! Whenever I do in depth analysis I find myself gravitating towards talking about agency and will of certain characters I love how you developed this…also talk about scholar?? Pop off the amount of research/knowledge you took into account while writing this omg

And fr!! Bonafide soccer losers I’m sure they’d find their way to a field and a ball no matter what au they’re slapped in LMAO that being said cherry tree is also a personal fav of mine from your portfolio…the characterization for Rin was on point and aligned a lot with what I’ve understood to be his character LOL but yeah that tag is flooding (I could be wrong but sometimes I feel like saes is even more active??) it’s gotta be something about the Emo teal eyed dudes I’m somehow hoping at some point in bllk we see Rin get to redevelop his interests outside of soccer..(like the horror games and his personality kinda pre-sae trauma) but we’ll see how that goes LMAO

Back to research DOWN TO THE PLANTS IN HIORIS FIELD goodbye that’s some next level research I’m honestly living for it though!!! I mean I wouldn’t know which plants are native to Japan off the top of my head but I can imagine if I read something wrong about something I was familiar with I’d be a little irked the dedication you have is too real

SHHSHS GLAD TO HAVE YOU TOO HEHE I’m also hoping tabieitaken nation RISE honestly I’m sure they will I think they’re just kinda like…idk paywalled for lack of a better term behind the anime only/stuck in manga barrier I’m hoping we’ll get to see them in action from ep1!! Also yuki always almost seems like the third wheel to me LMAOA I think he’s just too dignified to stoop to their level of goofiness sometimes he’s just got that air to him….honestly I’m just excited to see all the new s2 characters in action with their dynamics and relations etc….im also kinda a nanase stan I can’t wait to see my headband boy in action…I think it’s funny how Isagi gets surrounded by people with accents and dialects I can fs see him being lost when they use region specific vocab LMAO

THANK YOUUU I know I just braindumped there so do take your time LMAO…I’m excited to read the karasu one shot and your other event works too!!! Will be back for commentary with each release o7

Also that shot of Karasu from s1 has me dying eightbit better give him compensation and do him justice s2 because that’s not Karasu that’s Kevin….like who is that man…..but no you’re blessing the Karasu tag never stop LMAOAO

-Karasu anon

i’m in pretty much the same boat!! i loveddd jjk and was p active in the fandom from like 2022-early 2024. my favs were megumi kashimo and yuta!! but i loved inumaki for a while hehe. i think some of my best fics are for jjk in terms of the kind of story i like to write 🤔 but i do agree that recently i’ve felt v lukewarm abt it

i feel like it’s a trend to hate on things that are popular which i don’t necessarily agree with but i just feel like i don’t really enjoy reading jjk anymore!! and i think a lot of its fans think popular = good which isn’t always the case. i also believe it gets a lot of praise which while some of it is merited (the things jjk does well it does VERY well) some it maybe not so much. for example i’ve seen a lot of people praising jjk for its female cast and honestly i don’t see the appeal. not a single female character is written as well as the male characters (including maki, who as much as i love her and as much as she is def above average for a shonen fc, is not really as well written as people make her out to be imo) and they all have dissatisfactory/vague endings (the way yuki tsukumo’s character was handled was a crime, same w tsumiki). i think a lot of fans think not sexualized automatically means good female character but that’s only one portion of it. jjk is kind of what i mean when i say i’m glad bllk has barely any female characters…i rather they don’t exist than get shelved for the plot/development of male characters/not even fully explored

also the way people were confused about whether nobara died for YEARS after it was shown in the manga and it was only cleared up in an interview is just. idk. i feel like i love what jjk could be (and again, i love a lot of things in it as well!! this is more me explaining why i’m not so into it anymore ig haha) and the things it set up to happen, but the execution isn’t really to my taste. different people will enjoy diff things but that’s just me 🤷🏻‍♀️ i keep up with it just because i feel like i have to?? i want to know how it all ends but i’m not emotionally invested like i used to be. also one thing i will say is i see a lot of analysis posts breaking down jjk and pointing out the different subtle details gege has put into it, and while i admire that level of attention i think those kinds of details should only serve to enhance a main story?? like the plot should be able to stand on its own without needing to have a very very deep understanding of many many nuanced topics. but again all of this is my personal opinion!! at the end of the day jjk is wildly popular and many people do enjoy it. gege isn’t perfect but no one is tbf so while i think criticism is good i would never bash on them for their ideas/work. at the end of the day it’s their story and the way they want to tell it is what they’re going to do!!

if soccer didn’t exist in an au they were put in the itoshi bros would simply invent it HAHAH omg i’m glad you liked cherry tree!! that’s like one of my least fav bllk fics i’ve written LMAO i feel like rin is so wiggly to write about (that makes no sense but basically he’s just hard to capture in my mind) that it was difficult despite being a relatively simple request 😫 yes i do think that sae’s tag is a bit more popular than rin’s!! maybe it’s because sae is being set up a bit like the gojo-type character who’s untouchably skilled 🤔 that kind of trope is always a winner w the fandoms i feel…i have to admire i think his haircut is weird asf 😔 i don’t think he’s UGLY but i also don’t know what everyone sees in him (i have to be careful though because the last two times I said this it was abt kaiser and otoya and. you saw how that turned out.)

PLSSS omg yes i sat there making sure white butterflies even exist in japan and everything 😭 there’s a line in hollyhock too where y/n compares reiji hiiragi to a hornet and originally the line referred to him as a vulture but apparently japan doesn’t have native vultures?? so it wouldn’t make sense coming from someone in the sengoku era to refer to a bird she would have had no chance at ever seeing. my philosophy is that it’s one of those things that people won’t care about if you forget (and sometimes artistic liberties can be taken) but the more careful you are to ensure you’re being as accurate as possible, the more the work really feels cohesive and believable ig?? 🤔 idk i think it just gives a more seamless vibe and you can def tell when an author is knowledgeable or at least did some research before writing abt a subject!! it always elevates a fic to me and i’d like to give that same experience to my own readers hehe plus i’m a bit of a perfectionist so i’d make myself do it anyways most likely

I AGREE i can sense them becoming popular they really are just fandom tropes as actual characters!! as long as their animation does them justices 😭 otoya and yuki looked okay in the last ep but karasu…they did my man a lil dirty icl 😔 omg that screenshot of him is so funny to me idek what it is he just looks so odd!! same in the epinagi movie though not to that extent 😔 i think part of it is that he’s drawn so sharply in the manga that in the anime he looks a little too soft?? for lack of a better word. also i got so used to him having black hair that i forgot his hair is technically purple-blue (karasu with black hair and purple eyes you will forever live in my heart). i was rewatching bllk a while ago and i saw him in that moment (he’s in the background i think he’s either judging shidou or judging raichi and gagamaru) and i had to rewind like HELP IS THAT KARASU?? but he’s kinda cute though…w his little 😒😕 expression…

also this is unrelated but idk how i just realized kurona was number 4 in second selection?? the way he beat literally every relevant character except rin is so funny (although tbf idrk how aryu and tokimitsu got 2nd and 3rd but then completely faded from relevancy after second selection)

[dfroza]

“I am God’s emissary to you, and I honor this call by focusing on what God is doing with and through you.”

growing A pure Tree:

“If the root of the tree is sacred, the branches will be also.”

Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament is the 11th chapter of the letter of Romans:

Now I ask you, has God rejected His people? Absolutely not! I’m living proof that God is faithful. I am an Israelite, Abraham’s my father, and Benjamin’s my tribe. God has not, and will not, abandon His covenant people; He always knew they would belong to Him. Don’t you remember the story of what happens when Elijah pleads with God to deal with Israel? The Scripture tells us his protest: “Lord, they have murdered Your prophets, they have demolished Your altars, and I alone am left faithful to You; now they are seeking to kill me.” How does God answer his pleas for help? He says, “I have held back 7,000 men who are faithful to Me; none have bowed a knee to worship Baal.” The same thing is happening now. God has preserved a remnant, elected by grace. Grace is central in God’s action here, and it has nothing to do with deeds prescribed by the law. If it did, grace would not be grace.

Now what does all this mean? Israel has chased an end it has never reached. Yet those chosen by God through grace have reached it while all others were made hard as stones. The Scriptures continue to say it best:

God has confounded them so they are not able to think,

given them eyes that do not see, and ears that do not hear,

Down to this very day.

David says it this way:

Let their table be turned into a snare and a trap,

an obstacle to peace and payback for their hostility.

Let their bright eyes become cloudy, darkened so they cannot see,

and bend their proud backs through it all.

So I ask: did God’s people stumble and fall off the deep end? Absolutely not! They are not lost forever; but through their misconduct, the door has been opened for salvation to extend even to the outsiders. This has been part of God’s plan all along, and so is the jealousy that comes when they realize the outsiders have been welcomed into God’s new covenant. So if their misconduct leads ultimately to God’s riches coming to the world and if their failure turns into the blessing of salvation to all people, then how much greater will be the riches and blessing when they are included fully?

But I have this to say to all of you who are not ethnic Jews: I am God’s emissary to you, and I honor this call by focusing on what God is doing with and through you. I do this so that somehow my own blood brothers and sisters will be made jealous; and that, I trust, will bring some to salvation. If the fact that they are currently set aside resolves the hostility between God and the rest of the world, what will their acceptance bring if not life from the dead? If the first and best of the dough you offer is sacred, the entire loaf will be as well. If the root of the tree is sacred, the branches will be also.

Imagine some branches are cut off of the cultivated olive tree and other branches of a wild olive (which represents all of you outsiders) are grafted in their place. You are nourished by the root of the cultivated olive tree. It doesn’t give you license to become proud and self-righteous about the fact that you’ve been grafted in. If you do boast, remember that the branches do not sustain the root—it is the system of roots that nourishes and supports you.

I can almost hear some of you saying, “Branches had to be pruned to make room for me.” Yes, they were. They were removed because they did not believe; and you will stay attached, be strong, and be productive only through faith. So don’t think too highly of yourselves; instead, stand in awe of God’s mercy. Besides we know that God did not spare the natural branches, so there is no reason to think He will spare you. Witness the simultaneous balance of the kindness and severity of our God. Severity is directed at the fallen branches withering without faith. Yet kindness is directed at you. So live in the kindness of God or else prepare to be cut off yourselves. If those branches that have been cut from the tree do not stay in unbelief, then God will carefully graft them back onto the tree because He has the power to do that. So if it is possible for you to be taken from a wild olive tree and become part of a cultivated olive tree, imagine how much easier it would be to reconnect branches that originally grew on that olive tree.

My brothers and sisters, I do not want you to be in the dark about this mystery—I am going to let you in on the plan so that you will not think too highly of yourselves. A part of Israel has been hardened to the good news until the full number of those outside the Jewish family have entered in. This is the way that all of Israel will be saved. As it was written, so it also stands:

The Deliverer will come from Zion;

He will drive away wickedness from Jacob.

And this is My covenant promise to them,

on the day when I take away their sins.

It may seem strange. When it comes to the work of the gospel, the fact that they oppose it is actually for your benefit. But when you factor in God’s election, they are truly loved because they descended from faithful forefathers. You see, when God gives a grace gift and issues a call to a people, He does not change His mind and take it back. There was a time when you outsiders were disobedient to God and at odds with His purpose, but now you have experienced mercy as a result of their disobedience. In the same way, their disobedience now will make a way for them to receive mercy as a result of the mercy shown to you. For God has assigned all of us together—Jews and non-Jews, insiders and outsiders—to disobedience so He can show His mercy to all.

We cannot wrap our minds around God’s wisdom and knowledge! Its depths can never be measured! We cannot understand His judgments or explain the mysterious ways that He works! For,

Who can fathom the mind of the Lord?

Or who can claim to be His advisor?

Or,

Who can give to God in advance

so that God must pay him back?

For all that exists originates in Him, comes through Him, and is moving toward Him; so give Him the glory forever. Amen.

The Letter of Romans, Chapter 11 (The Voice)

A set of notes from The Voice translation:

In every generation, God makes sure a few survive the onslaught of judgment. The prophets call these the “remnant.” Paul sees himself living in a critical moment as fewer and fewer Jews pledge obedience to Jesus. But the Anointed’s emissary finds comfort in realizing how God’s faithfulness is playing out in his day. If you ever think that you alone are faithful to God, that somehow God has forgotten His covenant promises, think again. He always has a remnant.

The cultivated olive tree provides Paul with a beautiful image of how believing Jews and non-Jews were organically connected in the plan of God. Life flows from the earth to the branches—some natural, some grafted in—through the rootstock. Paul wants to make sure the grafted branches know they have not arrived on their own; their spiritual life and vitality flow from the root, Israel. God is the Farmer who has tenderly grafted them into the sturdy stock on the basis of faith. So pride and arrogance are completely out of place for those grafted branches. They will bear fruit only as they remain connected by faith to the stock.

Paul says that God’s mysterious plan for the ages is being revealed as the number of outsiders swells in the churches and as a part of Israel is hardened, at least for a time. But let’s not forget that hardening is not God’s unilateral action. Whatever hardening takes place happens first on our side before God reluctantly agrees. That part of Israel now hardened has already rejected God’s Anointed. Yet when the full complement of non-Jewish outsiders enters God’s kingdom, “all Israel will be saved.” But clearly “all Israel” can’t mean every last Jew, because Paul has already shown that not every son or daughter of Abraham is an heir to the promise.

Today’s paired reading from the First Testament is the 22nd chapter of the book of Exodus:

Eternal One: If someone steals an ox or a sheep and either kills or sells it for profit, then he must pay five oxen for the one ox he stole or four sheep for the one sheep he stole. But if the stolen animal—the ox or donkey or sheep—is still alive and in his possession when he is caught, then the thief must pay the owner double. A thief must make restitution for what he has taken. If he has no means of doing so, he must be sold to pay for his theft.

If a person attacks a thief in the act of breaking into his house and the thief is killed during the attack, then the homeowner is innocent of blood guilt. It is different if the sun has already risen; so any homeowner who kills a thief during the day must be considered guilty of bloodshed.

Eternal One: If someone allows his animals to graze a field or vineyard until it is bare and then lets his animals wander over onto a neighbor’s field, then he must compensate his neighbor from the very best of his field and vineyard.

If someone starts a fire and the fire spreads and sets the thorn bushes ablaze, and eventually that fire burns up stacks of harvested grain and everything growing in the fields, then the person who started the fire is responsible and must pay reparations for what was lost.

If someone gives his neighbor money or items to keep for him and it is stolen from his neighbor’s house, then if the thief is captured, he must pay double for what he stole. If the thief is not found, then the person who owned the house that was burglarized must go stand before God’s presence so that He can decide whether he is the one who stole the property.

Whenever there is a breach of trust—regarding an ox, a donkey, a lamb, a piece of clothing, or any lost item—and the contested item is discovered in the possession of a neighbor and claimed by two different parties, then both sides must appear before God. If God finds the neighbor guilty, he must pay double for what he stole.

If someone leaves a donkey, an ox, a sheep, or any other kind of livestock in his friend’s keeping, and the animal dies or is injured or disappears while no one is watching, then the two are to make an oath in the presence of the Eternal. The neighbor must swear he had nothing to do with the loss of the animal, and the owner of the animal must accept his statement and not demand any compensation for the loss.

But if the animal was stolen while in his neighbor’s care, then the neighbor must compensate the owner. If it was torn to pieces by another animal, then the neighbor may use the remains as evidence, and not have to pay any compensation for the torn animal.

If someone borrows an animal from a neighbor and it is harmed or dies while not in the possession of the owner, then the borrower must compensate the owner in full. But if the owner was there when the animal dies or is harmed, then no compensation is required. If the animal has been rented and not borrowed, then the rental fee paid shall cover the loss of the animal.

If a man entices a virgin who is not promised to another man to have sex with him, then he must pay her father the bride-price and marry her. If the young woman’s father refuses the marriage offer because he disapproves of the man, then the man still must pay the amount of money that is customary for the bride-price for virgins.

You are not to allow a sorceress to live.

Anyone who has sex with an animal must be put to death.

Anyone who dares to sacrifice to any god other than the Eternal must be declared under the ban and destroyed.

Do not wrong or oppress any outsiders living among you, for there was a time when you lived as outsiders in the land of Egypt.

You must not take advantage of any widow or orphan. If you do oppress them and they cry out to Me, I will certainly hear them, and My wrath will be kindled. I will make sure you are slaughtered by your enemy’s sword, and your own wives and children will become widows and orphans.

If you loan money to any of the poor among My people, do not treat them as borrowers and act as their creditors by charging interest. If your neighbor gives his coat to you as collateral, then be sure to give it back before night falls—even if he has not repaid you in full. You see that coat covers his body and may be his only protection against the cold. What do you think he would sleep in? When he calls out for Me, I will hear his cry. I am kind and compassionate as you should be when a fellow Israelite is in need.

Do not curse the one True God or any rulers of your people.

You must not hold back or delay your offering from the bounty of your harvest or the juice of your vineyard. Dedicate every one of your firstborn sons to Me. But dedicate your livestock—your ox and sheep—to Me in sacrifice. The firstborn of your livestock may stay with its mother for the first seven days. When the eighth day arrives, give the firstborn to Me. You must be holy before Me. Do not eat any animal that has been torn to pieces by wild beasts in the field. Toss its remains to the dogs.

The Book of Exodus, Chapter 22 (The Voice)

A note from The Voice translation:

The difference between these two situations is the difference between daylight and dark. If a homeowner is protecting his property at night and injures a thief, it is to be treated as a case of self-defense. But if the crime takes place during the light of day, it is not necessary to incapacitate or capture the thief; it is necessary only to recognize the thief and bear truthful witness against him in court. The right to personal property does not eclipse the right to life.

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures for monday, may 13 of 2024 with a paired chapter from each Testament (the First & the New) of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons about the wonders of the heavens:

Shalom chaverim. I took this pic of the Northern Lights last Shabbat after saying kiddush and praying with my kids... I didn't have time to get out my tripod and a do a time-release, but this snapshot gives you some idea of the glory we saw that night (Psalm 19:1-4).

And Happy Mother's Day to all you moms out there. Thank you, Lord, for the great blessing of our mothers!

5.12.24 • Facebook

from yesterday’s email by Israel365

Today’s message (Days of Praise) from the Institute for Creation Research

[horizon-verizon]

Important quotes:

[...] One that hasn’t been suggested, as far as I can tell, is sincere philosophical opposition. A Blackfyre victory is not only a victory for Daemon, but a massive cultural push toward this Prom King of the Seven Kingdoms “better man” ideology. It’s not hard to imagine why Brynden Rivers would want to oppose that. If the just and peaceable King Daeron II, with the might of the Iron Throne behind him, can be overthrown because he doesn’t fit the masculine ideal, what place will there be for someone whose deviation from this ideal is literally all over his face?  If hostility toward the Rhoynar proves this potent a motivation to warfare, what’s next? The Dornish at least keep the Andal faith, which is no small thing; who’s to say that this new regime won’t want a new enemy to rally people against and decide that those weirdo tree-worshippers are a convenient target? I don’t think his motivations were predominantly about principle or self-preservation, but at the same time, if you were in his shoes, wouldn’t you fight tooth and nail to resist that?

................

Bloodraven is a bastard in an era where bastardy is a social flash point, he is a warg in a world of disappearing magic, he is an albino in a world where divergence from a physical ideal is treated as a moral failing. At some point, covering (as I hypothesized that Daeron may) or trying to kick down the door into Normalcy (as Daemon and Bittersteel definitely do) becomes corrosive, self-destructive, utterly exhausting. There is nobody else like Bloodraven, and he lives like somebody who knows it.

................

Archery is thought to be below knights, supposedly because it isn’t considered to bring too much glory. As a skill, it’s literally worth less in their world[...] The more cynical explanation for this cultural attitude is that it’s bluntly classist: people can make pretty effective bows and arrows and even learn to use them on their own, they allow people to be valuable in battle even if they can’t afford expensive armor and well-kept horses, and once those same people leave the battlefield they can also use those bows and arrows to feed themselves. Brute strength is less important, which means maleness and able-bodiedness are nowhere near as much of an advantage as they are in more “honorable” fights. And what does Bloodraven use to strike down foes? A weirwood bow. Foreshadowing things to come, yes, but I suspect the character made this choice precisely because of its symbolism.

................

But the main issue is, look how much of this is scapegoating and outright dehumanization, and how little of it is based on actual events. “He killed his half-brother and nephews on the battlefield" - fair enough, if stripped of the context of Daemon’s kinslaying intent, but then - “and then he made the plague happen and killed the half-brother he was fighting for! Oh, and Baelor Breakspear, who hundreds of reputable sources saw someone else kill! Oh, yes, and somehow he did this overly-complicated magical feticide but still GOT CAUGHT doing it even though he is magical and all-powerful! Also LOOK AT HIS GROSS FACE!” As long as he lives under his own name, he’s going to be demonized. What he looks like is sufficient ammunition against him; if he starts hiding his appearance, he outs himself as a sorcerer, because the way he looked before is very memorable. This exists in dialogue with the social bias that lumps him in with his mortal enemies.

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What’s especially impressive and engaging and above all unusual about this character is that he could, if he wants, cover more effectively than anyone else. He could disappear into the libraries with Aerys; he could either pretend not to have his affinity with ravens or choose to be one full-time. He can pass himself off as a Plumm – or for that matter, probably the Lannister or Tyrell of his choice – or any other person whose skin and hair and eye(s) don’t draw attention. His shape-shifting abilities could be read as a metaphor for the ability to cover, which is learned so well by stigmatized people. But as Melisandre tells us, glamours take a toll. Even with the means to do it, he refuses to crouch defensively and use his abilities to coddle other people’s biases and deny his own identity. He inhabits his own skin, and he throws people by forcing them to meet him on his terms. If people construe your existence as offensive, then the best defense is to give offense. This is radically different from the “wear it like armor” attitude Tyrion Lannister tries to take. Armor is defensive. Armor, like glamors, is something that you put on when necessary but is dead weight to carry when not. Bloodraven wears his difference like a set of brass knuckles. You might resent him for refusing to play by the established rules – but you’ll watch your mouth or lose some teeth.

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When someone who is outside of society is above it and okay with it, then there’s no need to challenge ourselves on what alienation might be doing to them; when they don’t care about the system, they don’t threaten our perspective on how it’s organized. Bloodraven, though, is always playing toward some long game or another, and he always uses the most powerful tools he can get his hands on to do it. He is not a devotee of chaos. He is about order, bare and unflinching -and he stands in starkly visible contrast to what most people assume their social order to be.

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Better Men: Bias and Bastardy in the Blackfyre Rebellion, Part 3

I tried to keep this post from turning into a general deep dive into Lord Bloodraven, the biggest greatest of bastards and the newest of my favorite characters. Given the subject matter of this series of posts and what we know about the character so far, there’s a lot to explore. I’ve tried to limit this one to the character’s relationship to his own difference and how that influences his thinking.

White as bone were the skin and hair of Brynden Rivers, and his eye - he had only the one, the other having been lost to his half brother Bittersteel at the Battle of Redgrass Field - was red as blood. On cheek and neck he bore the winestain birthmark that had given him his name. (TMK)

In some ways, the Lord Hand is a fairly straightforward exploration of the concept of stigma. His face bears a literal mark, which defines his social identity to a point where he’s publicly named for it - a name referencing an animal, no less.

Straightforward,perhaps,but far from simple.This is a complicated subject, inhabited by a very complicated character.

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