#I read some of her work in class a few quarters back

[casuallyanidiot]

Just read your yan! Farmboy piece and i really liked it! 💖 i wanted to give an ask but just ignore if you dont like it or its too heavy for you. (Has self ending option so just ignore if it triggers you or just too much) though- i had an ask similar to another one with the ‘morally grey’ reader? How would danny react to an ‘escaped’ reader who managed to get away before he could have got to them?

In the piece the reader is treated cruelly by basically everyone in town and sometimes even their own parents, right? So it got my gears thinking of a more- off the deep end type? Say a reader who has been sick and tired of being the outcast and target of cruelty despite doing nothing but existing. So they scrounge up every dollar, every penny and quarter they find to save up a good sum for the day they leave and high tail out of there? Bus, cab, or anything would be fine but with barely a backpack of their legal documents and clothes- they set off. Thinking ‘i want to at least try. I wanna at least give myself the chance to be more and have better….. if not- then i dont know what i would do.’ *could go a suicidal route if you want* how would he react to that? How would the town or parents react to it? Id honestly think they would say ‘good riddance’ or sum.

THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME!💖💖 i love ur work and hope your doing well. 💖

Tw. For mentioned suicide

If the reader managed to escape, then I think Danny would lose it. He's pretty in control most of the time, and part of that is based in how predictable he views the town he lives in. But leaving? Actually escaping would be far beyond anything he had expect. Now you'd be somewhere he couldn't control, where he couldn't corner you in a way he knows would work.

I think he'd try to follow you and bring you back. He'd spin the story to be a bit more sympathetic to your situation. The new version of events he'd tell would be like some ill fated pair that were separated by class. "We fell in love. And we slept together. She got pregnant, but she got worried that people wouldn't accept that we wanted to be together. She's confused, scared, and somewhere out there. I need to bring her home."

He gets the support of people in town, and suddenly a missing report is put out for you. You're missing. You're not mentally well. You need to come home. Your own parents back his story up to the police, and he goes to the city to find you.

A few strings pulled here and there, and he finds out the women's shelter you're staying at. He puts in an anonymous tip, and they go there to bring you back into his waiting arms.

I think if you did try and leave like this, he'd be more aggressive about keeping you locked up. Plus, now the town think of you as some poor, mentally unwell girl while he's you benevolent caretaker.

If the reader ended it, I think then that the Danny would be devastated. He'd be angry, but he wouldn't have anyone to direct his anger at. I think that no one would blame him for your passing, but rather blame it on your family for raising you in such poor condition. I think at that point your family would've been chased out of town, and Danny would have nothing.

Like I said in a previous ask, Danny never pictured himself with anyone other than you. I think maybe he'd marry someone else eventually for the sake of holding appearance, but he'd never love them.

[pottersfia]

study buddy

summary: classic study "date" fic, rodrick desperately needs help in english and y/n is happy to help. lots of fluff in this part. both 18

the end of senior year was quickly approaching and rodrick was sick and tired of his parents bugging him about his grades. it was the third quarter of the school year and senioritis tended to affect many people around this time but rodrick had been a victim since the day he stepped foot into high school. 

"if you want, we can work on this together?" rodrick looked over at you who was sitting next to him in his art elective class. you had been talking about your english assignment which, despite you being in honors english and him in regular, was the same. the book they read for the quarter came with study guide questions for each section of the book which eventually would help for the final book report. 

"you'd help me with that?" he asked you. you smiled and nodded.

"sometimes working with another person makes it easier." she replied. he smiled back and the deal was set. you would go over to his house 2 hours after school and start your assignment.

these 2 hours consisted of rodrick frantically picking up in his room, taking an abnormally long shower, considering it's rodrick, and begging his family to not say or do anything weird or embarrassing. a pretty girl was coming over to study with him!! suddenly as he applied deodorant for probably the 10th time already, he heard the doorbell. 

"i got it!" he yelled and rushed downstairs. he quickly caught his breath and looked through the peephole on the door to see you patiently waiting for an answer. he sighed and opened the door. you smiled as you looked up at the boy. 

"hey, y/n." he said. 

"hi, rodrick." you replied. the two of you stood in a few moments of silence stupidly smiling at each other. just as rodrick opened his mouth to break it you were interrupted by a sweet lady who cheerfully greeted you. 

"you must be y/n! come right on in." she smiled and made way for you to step inside, you did so.  "i'm so glad you're here to help rodrick, he's been struggling for quite some time."

"mom! can you please stop talking." rodrick loudly interrupted her, making you slightly laugh. 

"she is a guest in my house, rodrick, i want to greet her. my name is susan, honey. if you need anything i'll be right down here." you smiled again at her. 

"it's nice to meet you mrs.susan, thank you." you replied. 

"ok we have to go, bye mom." he walked towards the staircase and turned around to you. "you can follow me." you nodded and waved bye to susan following rodrick to his room. 

"keep that door open!" she said. rodrick groaned and you laughed again. 

"she's really nice." you said.

"annoying is what she is." he let you walk into his room. you looked around and smiled to yourself as you realized his room screamed rodrick. there were band posters everywhere, dark bedsheets, the floor was cleared off but magazines and comics, a few water bottles, and forgotten school books were scattered around his bedside table and desk. 

he closed the door quietly and sat down on the edge of his bed saying, "you can sit down i have my stuff," he reached to his backpack that was on the floor and pulled out his notebook and the book you were assigned.  you nodded and sat down on the desk chair that was right across from his spot on the bed. you pulled out your stuff too. 

"so i guess we can just start with the questions, do you need to review what we read today?" you asked. he nodded. you smiled and continued on explaining the events in the book.

rodrick was so mesmerized by you. he appreciated your want to help him with his work but how could he focus on anything academic with you right in front of him? he stared at the way you fidgeted with your fingers as you talked. he stared at how perfect your hair looked. he stared at your lips and thought about how good they would feel to ki-

"rodrick?" your voice snapped him out of his trance. 

"what?" he kinda shook his head as he regained focus sending a fluttery feeling to your stomach.

"i uh, were you listening?" you asked.

"oh yeah. i heard everything you said." he tried to lie but you saw right through him. 

"really?" you asked again. he lifted his hand to rub the back of neck a bit.

"i heard maybe half of what you said?" he replied, pretty unsure this time. you smiled and laughed.

"what are you so distracted by?" you asked. it was you. you were distracting his focus from the work but how could he just say that? he shrugged and turned his head away looking at absolutely nothing on the right side of his room.

"maybe if you sat next to me it would be easier." he said and turned back again to see your reaction. you were a little confused or taken aback maybe but nonetheless you stood up and joined him on the bed. 

"is this better?" you looked right at him and he looked back. you gave him a small smile and despite his heart feeling like it was beating out of his chest, he smiled back.

"yeah, i think so." he practically whispered sending another flutter to your heart. 

the two of you continued with the review. laughs and smiles were exchanged constantly and it was probably the most you've ever enjoyed doing school work. 

"you're doing really good rodrick, you just needed to focus some more." you smiled after he got another question right. 

"it's definitely because of you." he replied. you playfully bumped his shoulder and looked for another question to ask. 

"ok let's do another one." 

"i think i should get something for doing so good now." he said. you gave him a questioning look.

"like what, candy?" you replied. he shrugged. then you had an idea. it was a very corny idea but an idea nonetheless. the two of you were having a good time and it wouldn't hurt to ask, yolo right? "what if i give you a kiss?" you kinda cringed a bit at your words but tried not to let it show, anxiously waiting for his response.

the boy was stunned. his eyes widened and your words replayed in his head over and over. "a kiss?" he asked. "really?" 

"only if you want though. it's pretty dumb i don't know." you looked down at the paper in your lap but his words made you look back at him.

"no, it's not dumb. um. yeah, that would be great motivation." he nervously laughs. you laughed back.

"but it has to be after getting 2 questions right." you said. he agreed, and for sure, he got 2 questions right. 

"you've turned me into a genius, y/n." he smiled. 

"you're definitely reaching nerd status." you laughed.

"well, you gave me the best motivation ever." he replied. now it hit you, you actually had to kiss him. you tried to hide the nervousness from your face. there was no turning back now. you turned to face him, crossing your legs on the bed, and placed your hand on his shoulder as you leaned in and gave him a quick peck. he looked at you as you leaned back.

"how was that?" you asked. he was quiet for a moment a little shocked that this was happening with the girl he liked but then he snapped out of it.

"i-i don't know. maybe you should uh, do it again just to be sure." he answered, making you smile.

"if you insist." you leaned in and let your lips meet again. this time it was more than a peck. his hands rested on your cheeks and yours around his shoulders. you melted into the kiss taking in the moment as the butterflies that you constantly felt seemed to go crazy. 

once you finally parted for a breath the two of you couldn't stop smiling at each other. 

"yeah, that was pretty good." rodrick said. you gave him another quick kiss but just as your lips touched the door opened. 

"hey kids, do you want- oh." it was susan and you instantly jumped away from him. "didn't i tell you to keep the door open?" 

"mom! just go away!" rodrick stood up. 

"ok ok, sorry." she walked out but made sure to leave the door very much open. as soon as you heard her footsteps fade away you couldn't help but laugh. rodrick turned to you. 

"sorry, that was a lot." you said. he laughed too and sat back down next to you. 

"i know i'm sorry." he said. 

"it's ok. i just need to make sure to kiss you when there aren't any family members around." you said.

"i agree 100%."

[the-cheese-man]

Log #33-02-PD

Booting sequence initiated.

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Open text document?

[Y/N]

Y

Translate to standard Western Terran?

[Y/N]

Y

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File loaded. Welcome Captain Kara Briggs.

File Creator: Zartha (approximate romanization from the Cret'lli language)

File Creation: 28-502-TriC Standard Galactic Date, ~ 8/23/7499 Terran Gregorian Calender Date

File Title: On_The_Quiet_Thinkers.SGF.Aud.Transcript

Today I found out something strange. Despite being told to in any circumstances avoid looking into the mind of shipmate Sam, I couldn't help myself. Yes yes I know that I shouldn't mind read Class 4 Cognitive Landscapes, too much going through their heads causing your neurons to shortcircuit. And besides, it's not the first time I've done it. It's also not like I died any other time. But that is beside the point, in my [~230 Standard Gregorian Terran Years] I've never met a more fascinating individual, granted, I've also never interacted with a human before boarding this ship. She was cleaning the floor of the hallway, one of her assigned chores.

When I read that humans mind I was fully expecting to be blasted with information, maybe if even collapse right then and there. But something was wrong, all I heard was music, nothing more, nothing less. I was confused, this was a Class 4 Cognitive Landscape? It's silent relatively speaking... But what I didn't realize was that it wasn't because of what she was thinking about, in fact she was barely thinking at all.

She was wearing headphones.

I had been told that some humans can go on, for lack of a better word, auto pilot, barely thinking about their actions as they do them, and Ive been told by other members of my species that when humans do this their mindscapes are nearly completely and totally empty and devoid of anything save the occasional response to new stimuli.

Humans with ADHD, as I was told, were a notable exception. They always had thoughts going through their head, and the few times there weren't were when they were asleep. I avoid humans with ADHD like the plague, but I thought that it might be fun, I've read the minds of class 7 and 8 minds without dying, although I was stuck in the infirmary for long stretches of time afterwards, how bad could a class 4 be?

After standing there entranced for who knows how long Sam finally noticed me, removed her headphones and asked what I was doing, her mindscape nearly went blank. The music was gone.

I responded by saying that I had read her mind, she then gained a look of concern, immediately asking if I was okay, apparently she had researched a little bit about telepathics. I responded that I was fine and that her mind was strangely quiet... Then she told me that whenever she works on menial tasks she listens to music and "switches off" her brain... I eventually went back to my quarters and thought for some time...

Humans make no sense.

Close file?

[Y/N]

Y

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"God damnit Sam. First the prosthetic now this? What's next?"

[gwiyeounsonyeon]

Growing Pains CH2 (MWC Day 8!)

Pairing: RE2 Leon Kennedy x Male(Intended) Reader Summary: College AU/Meet-cute(?) The cute guy that Claire hangs out with finally works up the courage to talk to you. Words: 1,662/200 Warnings: a few curse words but that's to be expected. Notes: Leon is super shy and awkward, I haven't read through it but when I was writing the dialogue and the text between it felt pretty chunky so if anyone has notes about that please let me know, I'm experimenting a little with the paragraphs, let me know if you liked the smaller ones better.

Navigation | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

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Friday felt like it would never end, like you’d never be able to catch a break. You had to feel grateful, though, it hadn’t rained yet and your weather app told you it would be sunny all day. The extreme difference in the weather kept you reeling, back home the temperature and weather were usually consistent with the month, but after moving closer to school you'd noticed that the weather was a lot more sporadic here; yesterday it had been freezing and pouring for the majority of the day, getting as low as 10 °C with a warning for hail. Today was the complete opposite, the temperature had been between 26 and 32 °C with absolutely no clouds in sight. The extreme (and unwarranted) differences in the weather had left you staggering to catch up, you’d woken up that morning absolutely drenched in sweat and blinded by the sun. Having set your thermostat to keep up with the freezing temperatures outside and the poor insulation of your cheap apartment, since it had been cloudy all week you never bothered with your curtains or blinds but clearly that was a mistake. 

You probably shouldn't say you hated Chicago, it was nice sometimes and the students here were pretty respectful. You could count on one hand all of the times you’ve actually had a bad customer experience and all of them centered around finals or exams. You look up as the bell dings and a customer enters, he’s huge, completely dwarfing you in size. As soon as he steps up to the counter you recognize him, his pale skin, and the weird markings on his face. You’ve heard Claire complaining about him time and time again, he was apparently so strict that no one in his classes has ever passed. 

You highly doubted that no one’s ever passed but since she never gave you his name, and only referred to him as the Evil Tyrant of the West Wing, you could never fact-check her. Evil tyrant or not, you still had a job to do and money to make so, you put on your best smile and greeted him politely. He orders a black coffee and a triple shot of expresso, you’re a little intimidated by his voice, and maybe his order but you know plenty of guys with his stature and intimidating aura who are actually sweethearts. The order is simple, youve made it so many times for the poor professors who used to come by in the dead of night, it's pure muscle memory at this point. Getting his order made and totaled up on the register takes little to no thought, he waits like he's got better things to do, and before you can tell him he tosses the exact total onto the counter, paying without thanking (or tipping) you. 

He scoops up his two drinks before marching out of the shop. His footsteps are loud and heavy, clunky boots dropping down hard onto the linoleum like you used to do as a pubescent 16-year-old throwing a tantrum, you think about how every time you did that your mom would call you disrespectful and she’d take away your phone. At that thought small smile forms on your face, you can't help but feel a little amused at the image of your tiny, 5’4 mother disciplining a man about as tall and wide as a skyscraper. “What an ass.” You huff and glance back down at the tip jar, it was a measly four bucks and some change, mostly quarters. You’ve had worse tips, at least this could buy you a water and maybe some peanuts or sunflower seeds if you chose right. 

You lean against the counter and cast a glance out of the big windows at the front, the guy Claire eats with is out there looking like a terrified puppy, he’s gripping the handles of his bike tightly as the tyrant guy chews into him for something you can only imagine. You watch as the tyrant storms off, pretty dramatically, Claire's friend puts up his bike and locks it to the pole before coming inside, he flinches when he sees you watching and shakily pulls off his (stupid-looking) helmet. “You- uh… Did you see all that?” His voice shakes slightly and he fidgets with the helmet nervously “Maybe.” You shrug wanting to cut the guy some slack. “Was it something you wanted me to see?” He shakes his head and you go back to the register, “Then I guess I didn't see anything.” He visibly relaxes but his steps toward the counter are a little shaky, you’re already tapping his order into the register by the time he gets up to the counter. “I didn't even order yet…” He sounds a little flustered and you look up to see that his cheeks have gone pink. “You get the same thing every time.” You counter, tapping the green total button on the register, “What if I wanted something different.” His voice evens out like he's getting more comfortable. “Did you?” - “No.” You chuckle at the absurdity and shake your head. 

“2.95 big guy.” There's a pause and you look up expectantly, he's looking at you star-struck but as soon as you make eye contact he fumbles for his wallet, dropping his helmet in the process. “Um- im so sorry…” He apologizes quickly, handing you a five and bending to pick up his helmet. “S’fine.” you pause to put his cash into the register and pull out his change. “Two-oh-five is your change.” You hand it back only for him to drop it into your tip jar, he smiles and takes his cookie when you hand it to him. “Is- uh. I mean- is Claire not here today?” He fumbles a little, tearing off pieces of his cookie. 

You shake your head “Nah, not yet. Summer’s always slow.” He nods along with you, it's obvious he knows Claire isn't here. You look over at the windows again and check your watch, it's just about closing time. “Why is that?” He breaks the silence as you log out of the register, you look up at him a little caught off guard, “Hm? Why what?” His cheeks go pink and he fumbles for words- “Um… I mean- uh. Why is summer always slow?” You nod, understanding what he meant, and go back to the register with a shrug, “Luis says it’s ‘cause of the heat, no one wants hot drinks.” He nods slightly and finishes off his cookie, crumpling up the napkin as he lingers. It's not hard to see that he wants to keep talking to you and you almost feel bad for him, you finish logging off and nod in the direction of the trash can. “Bet you a free drink you can't get that into the trash from here.” You know you shouldn't be handing out drinks but he's too cute and it's the first thing that pops into your head. 

He visibly lights up, his eyes get wider and his back straightens “Alright.” He looks back at the trash can by the door, taking his attention off of you. You can't help but admire him while he lines up his shot, he's got a cute side profile, he's pretty tall, and his hair looks nice and soft. He raises the napkin over his head and tosses it in, you tear your eyes away from the muscle in his arms to see the balled-up napkin bounce off the window and into the trash. He looks back at you with a shit-eating grin on his face, you shrug and smile back while turning to grab a cup. “I was on the basketball team in high school.” He says sounding more confident than he had earlier, you snort as he reveals this crucial information after he wins your little game. 

“Guess I set myself up then, huh?” You get a cup and turn back to him, “Whatchu want?” He looks proud of himself, his shoulders relaxed and held back confidently. You can't help but think he looks handsome when he’s confident like this, the worry lines on his face disappear, his brows unfurrow, and he actually looks his age. “What if…” He trails off, his demeanor turning anxious again. He swallows hard, his adam’s apple bobbing with the effort, “uh- w- what if… I got your number, instead of a drink?” A smile forces its way onto your face, he looks so nervous he might give himself an aneurysm. You huff playfully, unable to resist, this has to be the highlight of your week. 

You turn away from him to brew an iced coffee, It might be a little mean for you to draw this out, to make him worry more. “You want milk and sugar?” But you’ve always struggled with self-control. There's a long pause, before- “Ye… um yes please.” His voice is small and there's a slight shake if you listen close enough. You feel a little bad for doing this but you continue, you never pussy out. You finish brewing his coffee and in a smooth, well-practiced motion, you slap a sticker on the side and mark it with your name and number, putting a little x underneath. 

You hand it to him and without giving him time to think or breathe you herd him out of the shop. “Gotta close, call me later.” You shut and lock the door as he stands in front of it bewildered, his brain takes a while to catch up and you see him look down at the coffee in his hand and start to turn around but you’re faster; turning off the open sign and closing the blinds with a speed that you should be using for more important things, like getting dressed when you’re late to class, or finishing an essay that's about to be overdue, not being mysterious to the cute guy who still hasn't given you his name.

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A/N: it's getting easier and easier to write already, it didn't take half as long as yesterday's did to get 1,000 words. It feels so much good to actually feel happy writing. I can't help but feel worried it's not going to last forever with my fluctuating mental health but I've been looking up a few books to help improve my writing, grammar, flow, and punctuation and I've been seeing a lot of these writers saying that it's okay for you to be worried about that and to just push through.

[baelpenrose]

Under Avandra's Eyes II: Exile's Path. Chapter VII: About Those Apologies

Neith poisons a garrison and does some social engineering to spare the slaves working there while Liza handles the captain of the city's troops. Beta-read by @canyouhearthelight and @writing-with-olive. Both of whom had some solid suggestions. Sorry about the week long hiatus - I was off getting married!

Neith

Her poisoners’ pouch was heavily laden that night. A foul thing to contemplate - she’d once been a witch doctor’s apprentice, and had gone back to learn more. She’d then learned from others, medical experts in Nistria, medicine men in Asgaria. To take life with the knowledge brought her no joy. To be a master of poisons, to take lives en masse with the arts of the pestle and mortar, the magic granted by the gifts the earth gave, felt almost blasphemous, and yet she’d now crossed that line a thousand times over, on every continent she knew.

And she had to simply live with it. She’d been forced into it by Vixen as a teenager, when the Blight had hit her village - when something so dangerous that not even her mentor could have fixed it had ravaged their home. She’d had to join cause with Vixen then, for a magical panacea that cured the blight. Since then, Vixen had forced her into all manner of quests - always trading one favor for another - never letting her get far enough ahead on her own, though Neith had always been able to get the distance she’d needed to continue her studies of medicine across the world. But Vixen had always found a way to drag her back, force her back into service, always found a way to make her violate some taboo that forced her away from wherever she had been in order to do the right thing.

And now she was preparing a slaughter at a ceremony. Yes, there were going to be daemons, and whatever gods the descendents of Ancient Sargomia held to were darker and fouler than any men should offer prayers to, but poisoning hundreds at a sacred rite still left a foul taste in her mouth. She forced it down. Liza had already dressing herself in a lovely number - strips of silk that wrapped up and around her body, tied below the shoulders, and left plenty of Liza’s supple, tanned skin showing, even as the elegant silk wrap around her shoulders marked her as a higher class.

In Neith’s pouch - lotus oil, a powerful hallucinogen, one that she would lace in all the wine for the rites to be engaged a week hence. Yew paste, to be smeared and mixed into any butter the soldiers had. Hemlock, to be left carelessly among their teas. The deaths would come in numbers, trickling, and weaken the garrison. She’d add other poisons as well - she’d seen normal mushrooms come in to be cooked into a stew, it would be trivial to slip in deathcap among them. To be sure, only a few caps in a hundred would be deadly - but among so many, certainly some would bite the wrong one. 

Marcus had said these men drilled almost constantly and were never seen without their squads, and that was true enough, but this was all the better to her. Gaps in formations they were used to would unsettle them, always make them more uncertain if they were used to intimately knowing who they were fighting with and they had to suddenly reshuffle. To make matters worse, if she slipped poison among other foods the same way, it wouldn’t kill them all, only make them deeply, deeply paranoid about consuming anything. This, she knew, would be deadlier. Some would eat or drink as little as they could out of fear of death - better if she laced the water barrels with something to make men sick, but not kill them outright. Cause confusion. Terror. The soldiers of Sargonny would be weak and trembling by the time they faced off against the team - if they were still even alive. 

So she and Liza strode to the soldier’s quarter. She saw, then, a youth of around fifteen years on the street, pushing a large broom. He looked to be Hykranian in origin, not Sargon - and if the racial features weren’t enough to confirm his status, his ragged smock, unshod feet, and haggard expression definitely were. She’d spoken to enough Hykranians to know that only those with Sargon blood worked stably in the city, everyone else would only find work there only as passing merchants or mercenaries. Anyone else working here wasn’t doing so of their own free will.

She approached the boy, even as Liza wove through the crowd ahead of her. Without particularly stopping, she slipped him a small clay pot. “The next time you or a friend is whipped,” she said, “Apply what’s here to the wounds. They won’t fester.” If she could not stop killing with her knowledge, she could make sure it was more than the only thing she did. She was a healer - and while that had been a small gesture, to someone who could easily be permanently crippled by a festering wound, it probably meant a great deal. Especially if the slaves in question would be free within weeks - which was very much their ambition. It may have been a mad one - but then, once, she’d have claimed that plundering an ancient tower in the middle of the Blasted Lands or finding a panacea for the Blight was a mad ambition, and she’d since then done both. 

Besides, it wasn’t like a small pot of marigold ointment was hard to replace - the flower was common enough that getting a new pot she could seal to her satisfaction to carry would, in truth, be harder to replace than the ointment itself.

She hurried to follow Liza, passing the boy, and shuddering once she realized that the streets were almost eerily clean for a city often pelted by sandstorms so common to this part of the world. How often must people be worked to maintain it this way? Other places had built sewers, had built methods, carted waste out - but no cart could stand the sands of the desert, and this city was far too old to build under. Not that the Sargons need fear - as far as they were concerned, she knew, deaths of their ‘lessers’ in service were simply more advantage for their gods. 

Liza was beckoning to her, and whispered, quietly. “Is there any way for us to make sure whoever they have in there isn’t…doesn’t catch it, from what you do?”

Neith shook her head. “If they start forcing slaves to check, innocent people will die. But it will kill Sargon men in droves. Or…” She chewed her lip. “You talked to Marcus about this? The kinds of people in military barracks?”

“Yeah. He said that with this kind of discipline he’d be surprised if they weren’t cleaning it themselves, or if they had a small cleaning staff do it while they were on drill. Aside from that, he said that he knew of no barracks in the world that didn’t have its share of prostitutes and laundry workers.”

“Did he mention if the laundry workers slept there? Them or their children? For that matter, Liza, you were a courtesan against your will, did you ever meet a man who’d buy your services if he was sick enough to be impotent?” 

“Actually yes, but it was for a very elderly man who wanted my services as a singer while he took poison and died on terms he’d picked rather than letting his sickness claim him. For the general gist of your question - no. But some of the worst nights of my service were with noblemen about to ride to war, or with men just coming back from it. Men become much more brutal when they think they’re going to die - and I don’t envy any woman in those barracks with soldiers your poisons miss. None of which answered my question: what happens when they start simply forcing slaves to act as food tasters?”

Neith had to think about it - the bard knew more of this than she did. “I suspect once the panic sets in they’re more likely to draw food from other stores - most of these poisons take several days, they’ll think it's something else until it's too late. As to slaves - Liza, do you actually think they’re eating the same as the soldiers?”

Liza bit her lip. “I don’t know. I did, but I was a high class courtesan. Many of those bound in debt didn’t, those lower in status. I doubt a soldiers’ washer or a barracks prostitute is going to have the same status as a Palatine’s courtesan, but what happens when they do figure out it's the food? Other thing, many of lower status ate food from the day before, after it went stale, so unless whatever you’re using goes impotent if it isn’t eaten within a day…”

Neith swore. It had been a long time since she’d done this. “Fine then. There’s…other things I can do. Were servants permitted to make themselves tea from their lords’ stash?”

“No.”

“Hemlock stays in. I can get nightshade into wine, which again, will probably not be permitted to the slaves. Can you make sure we’re spilling it, or…”

Liza shook her head. “I’ll do one better. I’ll talk to the officers and flatter them until they come to the conclusion that wine is a luxury for their class and soldiers who’ve earned it - not slaves who should be grateful to have been taken alive.” She gave Neith a flat stare. “You want them to drink more of it, right?”

Neith nodded. “And…there’s things I can do to other rations to make them sick but not fatally, to confuse them, but not be fatal. I don’t think I can avoid that, but it also won’t kill anyone unintentionally targeted. The confusion these drugs cause is more fatal if you’re being attacked. And it takes time to set in.” She felt for slaves who would be undergoing the mind fog she was about to put everything in the barracks through - but by the time of the rite, the soldiers would be helpless, and the people she was drugging would be able to recover.

And she still had to get the really awful hallucinogens into the fancier wines for the ceremony itself. 

Liza gripped her hand and pumped it. “They’ll survive. And trust me, it’ll be better for them to be obviously not part of it.”

“Right.” Neith sighed. “I’m glad you’re part of this. I…needed your expertise for this, and I wouldn’t exactly have wanted to bring…” Left unsaid was the rest of it. The only person who might know what conditions a servant or slave would face was Itene, and neither Liza as Itene’s ersatz-mother nor Neith as her (albeit temporary) bondswoman and companion wanted to bring Itene along for something like this. And besides, Itene couldn’t have gotten her in. This task was one for those with experience in just how brutal the world could be. Itene could keep her innocence a little longer, whatever was left of it. No need to have her mass poison people.

Neith passed her an ointment. “For your lips. Don’t swallow til you’ve wiped it off.” 

Liza grinned.

The door to the barracks was blocked by a man in uniform, and Liza approached him, slinking into the light with the practiced ease of a professional courtesan. Neith watched her with cool professionalism, feeling the same pleasure she did watching anything done well, as the made-up Liza approached the soldier. “Lord Akkadius had a message for the commander on watch, and he sent it with a gift.”

Neith raised an eyebrow. Where had she gotten that name? The soldier seemed to buy it though, saying something too fast for Neith to follow. “I don’t have time for your attitude or doubts, boy. Let myself and my servant through at once. I have urgent business to discuss with your captain.” 

Of course, the elegant cloak hadn’t been for fun. Nor had the makeup. In the torchlight, Liza looked like a Sargon woman, and Neith…oh, clever. The young man stammered something, and Liza got close to him, idly loosening her cloak. “I appreciate your sense of duty. I shouldn’t have been so impatient. But I have business to attend, and I need to be allowed through.” The young man’s face wasn’t fully visible behind the mask of his helm, but Neith noticed the eyeslit of his helmet very clearly tilted downward. 

Then the door opened and Neith muttered, in her native tongue, “How much Khym did she just…”

“Enough to convince a gelded bull.” Liza whispered, in the same tongue. Then she spoke more loudly, in the Sargon tongue, more obviously for an audience. “Make yourself useful to the cooks here, girl. I’ll call for you when it’s time for us to leave.” 

The room itself was full of soldiers, and from the condition of the handful of non-Sargon faces she saw, Neith was glad she and Liza had discussed the conditions of slaves who would be working here well ahead of time.

All at once, a cover story for her to be in the kitchens while the men focused on the more flashily dressed Liza as Neith looked down, cowed, and headed for the barracks kitchen. Only a slight moment later and she’d scattered hemlock among the soldiers’ tea leaves, knowing full well the chances of most of them getting a lethal dose were quite small, and when pressed to go grab a few cups of wine, quickly poured her nightshade into a few barrels. In likelihood it would only kill a few - but it would make many quite ill.

She brought a flagon up to the captain’s room, where Liza and the soldier’s captain spoke like old friends, Liza laughing at the man’s jokes with a grin that never quite touched her eyes. Neith handed her the flagon with a smirk and headed back down, spotting bread dough - and quickly dusted it with ergot. 

She shrugged at the realization that she’d likely be here until Liza finished out whatever she was doing with the captain of the watch - and decided to look for other mischief or ways to make herself helpful. Leaving a bit of tansy in plain sight could be a start, at least for some of the women here. 

The captain, she’d leave to Liza. They’d talk about it on the way back.

[mysticwolfshadows]

Taken - Zutara - Part 98

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Katara wasn't sure what she expected, but it wasn't things going so... smoothly.

She went to see Azula first thing in the morning, telling the night guard that she'd be fine until Ty Lee came. The guard didn't even try to confirm, just... walked off. Leaving Katara to smuggle a few pillows and a guards uniform into Azula's room. While Katara placed the pillows in the bed to make it look like Azula was sleeping in, Azula changed into the uniform. Katara made sure to check the letter that Azula left and it was... short. Literally just "Going to South Pole with Waterbender. -Azula".

Katara could see lots of yelling in her future.

But that was a problem for later, because at the moment, everything was fine. Katara got Azula on board, said goodbye to Zuko without him seeming to suspect anything, and was off to Ember Island to pick up the class. The entire time, Azula stayed bellow deck, out of sight but not out of mind.

When she finally had all the students set up in the barracks, Katara went to check on Azula. She found her in the captains quarters - Katara's room - looking over one of the scrolls that Katara left on the ship for reading.

"What?" Azula sighed, clearly annoyed, when Katara just stood in the door.

Katara couldn't help but shrug. "I just thought... If you were going to run, you would have jumped ship in Ember Island."

"I'm going to the South Pole," Azula said. "It would be stupid to try and get off when we aren't even close."

Letting it go, Katara left Azula to it. She didn't mention that Azula had been reading Katara's copy of Love Amongst the Dragons. Ursa had told Katara, once, that it had been her dream to perform in a production of it, before she left home to marry Ozai. The memory was faint, and she was forgetting part of it, she was sure.

Still, She kept an eye on Azula. Waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It never came.

When they reached the South Pole, Katara led the children off. She was the sole chaperone for once. With Zuko still in the Fire Nation, and Aang called by some spirit business, she was sort of on her own.

The children were looking around, meeting her father and brother, who had gotten into a bit of a routine. As the crew unloaded things, Katara cleared her throat for her father's attention. The man blinked.

"Could you have Bato show the class to the long house? I need to talk to you and Sokka for a second."

They shared a look, but her father nodded. She waited as Bato led the kids away. They were hesitant to go with an unknown man, but Katara was able to get them on their way. Once they were out of earshot, Katara gestured for Rinzo and Taka to follow, as they walked towards her family's home. Azula, disguised as a guard, blended in behind them.

"What's this all about?" her father asked, as they moved to sit in the small living room.

"Did you get another creepy guard?" Sokka asked.

Katara glanced behind her, to where Rinzo and Taka were just realizing that there was a third among them. Azula pulled off the helmet, dropping it to the floor with a huff.

"I always hated these uniforms," Azula huffed, moving around to sit on one of the chairs, which had a nice polar leopard pelt laid over it. "I'll need something else to wear."

Katara frowned, glancing at her mother. "Mom, could you take Azula to my room? We should be about the same size. She'll need some warmer clothing."

Her mother looked around at them, but smiled and nodded and gestured Azula to follow. Katara could see the flicker of emotion in the other girls face, though she wasn't entirely sure what it was. Annoyance? Hesitation? Fear? Maybe some combination of all three. Still, Azula stood, and followed Katara's mother down the hall.

"Katara," her father sighed, pinching his nose. "What did you do?"

"We're just seeing how this goes. If it doesn't work out, then I'll take her back to the Fire Nation with me." At her father's continued expression of disapointment, she added, "we left a note."

He sighed. "You'll be sharing a room, while you're here."

First / Previous / Next / Masterpost

[navtechnicianez]

About Me

Hi! I'm Ezra. I just finished my 3 year Space Navigations Technician diploma. I fix the systems that allow spaceships to find and steer themselves to where they want to go. I thought this job with Pony Express would take me to interesting new places! They didn't tell me I would be working on a historical relic, though...

Silly little Mouthwashing self insert roleplay blog~

Icon by @yimpysdiner ~

Click read more for more info/boundaries!

Boundaries:

first time roleplayer. please be niceys 🥺

private dm roleplays kind of freak me out like feels like theres a lot of pressure. so I'll probably stick to asks and posting.

pretty much no topics are off limits to me.

just dont be weird or mean or rude to me okay

// for OOC

About Ezra (the character):

(subject to fine tuning as I work out the character)

Age: early mid 20s

Gender: nonbinary (closeted; someone with a savvy queerdar might notice but otherwise their femme presentation enables them to go through life as a "woman." To them, it's "not worth the fight".)

Sexuality: bisexual with a preference for men

Pronouns: any, with some preference for they/them. Though for above reasons, most will default to she/her at first.

Backstory: They are a Navigations Technician. Their job is to maintain the sensitive equipment within the flight console that allows the ship to chart its course and steer. Fresh and green out of their diploma course, they took this job with Pony Express over a better paying job maintaining unmanned ships that would have kept them closer to Earth. If asked, they would say they wanted the adventure, but inside they just wanted to get away from their family back home. On the Tulpar, they come to find that not only is the sense of adventure not quite so grand in a small windowless metal box, but the technology that guides spaceships has advanced a lot in the decades since the Type-F freighter 0926WO Class C was in its prime. Simply put: they don't know how to maintain the systems they were brought on board for, beyond a few barebones similarities to the modern technology they were taught about in school. They spend much of their time poring over the manuals and schematics, praying all the while that nothing breaks before they can figure out how the hell to fix it. Add in a dash of autism while being stuck in close quarters with a handful of total strangers and they're in for an interesting time.

Personality: Somewhat self doubting and unsure of themself, their skills, and their direction in life. Preoccupied with being liked, as such has a hard time being authentic at first. This shows as a kind and genial outward demeanor; someone who makes every effort to be polite and accommodating. Though this kindness is often based in a sense of fear, it isn't in itself a facade, more an optimistic "treat people the way you want to be treated" mentality. Tries to be open minded, empathetic, and understanding of people's differences, problems, different life circumstances. When comfortable with someone, they let loose the weirdness, obsessive tendencies and dark humour. Takes a lot to make them dislike someone, but when they do, internally they get really vindictive, spiteful, and all around unforgiving. Prone to bouts of depression, but will try very hard not to show it.

Interests: Likes to read fiction. Particularly fond of scifi. An artist at heart, enjoys creative pursuits all different kinds, but is focusing on improving their drawing and sketching for the duration of the haul, drawing the different environments of the ship and the people within them. Music is incredibly important to them, and it's almost impossible for them not to move to the beat of a song in some way. They are particularly involved in goth subculture, though their music taste expands beyond it. Loves to sing, is okay at it.

Relationships:

Curly: Doesn't quite know what to make of him. Thinks he's handsome and charismatic. His position of authority makes her uneasy. Curly is kind, which counteracts that. But his closed off nature throws her off. So any attempts to get to know him better and build a more comfortable (to her anxious mind) relationship fail. A mix of good, friendly interactions, and very awkward ones when she starts trying too hard.

Jimmy: Relates to his sense of humour and his mistrustful, self-centered worldview (as well as the deep insecurity they can sense within him), though they approach it with a different mindset than he does. Starts finding him very attractive as their relationship progresses, ending up with a pretty significant crush. Is much more willing to look past his faults and negative traits because of this. Lacking in the confidence to pursue him directly, they put in a lot of energy making themself and their attraction noticeable, but not so noticeable that they look desperate.

Anya: Sort of intimidated. Feels a kind of pressure to relate to her on the basis of them both being "women," something they've always had difficulty with, despite the fact that this is not something Anya 100% positively expects from them. Anya is so unfalteringly nice they feel really bad being as uncomfortable on the inside as they are. Is also quite jealous of Anya's passion for medicine and drive to achieve it, as that kind of ambition is something notoriously absent from their life.

Daisuke: Least intimidated by Daisuke out of the crew, they get along well enough, being so similar in age. They both like video games and art. But his energy can be a lot for Ez. Even so, they really relate to his lack of drive, and feeling like they ended up in a place they didn't want to be/weren't ready for in order to appease their parents. So when he opens up about it, they end up commiserating on this topic.

Swansea: Is technically their direct superior, though they don't spend nearly as much time under him as Daisuke does. Reminds them of their dad somewhat, so they end up flip flopping between being taking him for what he is and liking him, being incredibly intimidated and even fearful of his gruff demeanor, and being pissed the hell off by him. Though they were highly unprepared for the reality of working on the Tulpar and start off quite clueless about the workings of the old equipment they were brought in for, being educated on the matter they're still pretty capable, and thus tend to escape his ire.

(headcanon: pony express employees have to buy their own uniforms. this work dress is a style they offer, but is more expensive than the typical jumpsuit, and you have to sign a waiver absolving the company of responsibility for any injury incurred by the improper coverage of this attire. ez also owns a regular pony express jumpsuit.)

About Ez (the roleplayer):

23 | they/she/he

writer. find me over at @xyfanficarchive for more info <3

[gingerbreadmonsters]

cherry leather looker

or: you're a car, you're a woman, you're a drug!

gn!reader, explicit nsfw, vincent-typical after-school shenanigans. bank me like a millionaire, baby! it’s time for some last-minute summer fun, so you know what that means… my vincent is chinese, so don’t be surprised that he’s got a bit more physical description than i usually go in for. for the wonderful rae @sri-rachaa, mutual of my heart everything i do is for her - happy birthday gorgeous girlie!! all my love, and hope you’re having a fab day <3 inspired by sugar soaker by panic! at the disco, and i wonder if you can guess why…? vincent going off-road in just over 5300 words.

i’m aware that the byline implies fem!lovely, but that’s just because that’s how the song goes lol - lovely here is entirely gender neutral, and their body (including their, um, hardware) is basically not described at all.

this fic contains explicit nsfw content, and is very, very 18+. reader discretion is advised. minors dni. thank you. 

Ugh.

Studying.

Exams aren’t coming up for a while yet, but unfortunately that doesn’t mean you don’t have to study. DAMN loves to pile the work on, latent humanborns be damned, and it’s an absolute nightmare once deadlines start to roll around.

“Lovely!”

Sam’s been tutoring you every Friday for a few months now, keeping you hostage once a week for an hour or two after classes, and it’s awful. He’s not bad at it, he’s just kind of boring, you know? He’s so good at this stuff that he doesn’t really know how to teach it very well, so he ends up doing that infuriating thing where he just reads stuff out of the textbook, nods like of course you’ll have understood that, and moves onto the next thing. It’s infuriating!

You’ve got to be at his place in, like, twenty minutes - normally Vincent would come and pick you up, but he’s got some meeting in town with a client, so Sam’s coming to get you instead. It’s not fair! When Vincent comes to pick you up, he always lets you choose the music, and he brings one of the cars that’s fast enough to get you there in half the time, so he can make out with you in the back seat for ten minutes before you have to go. Sam? Uh, no thanks, for several reasons. Long story short, you’re really not looking forward to studying with him tonight-

“Tianxin!”

…Wait, what?

The car park isn’t full, but it’s certainly not empty. It must be, what, about half twelve? Quarter to one? You’ve just come out of your Introductory Mental Disciplines lecture and your brain is kind of fried - Professor Albright’s a wonderful teacher, but he can be a little… intense, to put it lightly - so it’s not exactly a surprise that it takes you a minute to figure out where that voice is coming from.

“Lovely! Over here!”

Hazard lights flash behind you, and a good handful of other students turn with you to see - ah. Yeah, okay. You really should have known. Vincent Solaire, the picture of romance, big round sunglasses perched amid gracefully-dishevelled hair, waving madly from the driver’s seat of a very red, very shiny, very expensive convertible.

“Get in!”

Well, he certainly doesn’t have to tell you twice.

He’s already got his foot on the pedal as you slam the door shut, chucking your backpack over onto the back seat, and he pulls you in for a breathless kiss while clumsy hands fumble with your seatbelt. As soon as he hears it click, that’s it - before you really know what’s going on, you’re racing out of the car park and down the road out of town, music all the way up and pedal all the way down.

“How did - where-” You’re still a bit dizzy from the speed of it all - how the hell is he here? “What happened to your meeting?”

“Got Alexis to do it,” he says breezily, one hand reaching up to adjust the rearview mirror before slipping down to sit high on your thigh. “I just about stopped Fred catching her and Christian having some fun in the dining room after the clan meeting a few weeks ago, so she owes me one.”

Ah. That would explain why Vincent couldn’t keep a straight face when Sam’s mate had asked if he knew why the dining room table was away for repairs the other day. You don’t really want to know what he told them.

“Actually, that reminds me!” Regrettably, he takes his hand off you to put his sunglasses on properly - only Vincent would be caught wearing sunglasses at night unironically, just because they look cool, baby, look! He does an awkward sort of wriggle as he fishes his phone out of the pocket of his jeans, tossing it lightly into your lap. “Can you check if it’s on silent, please?”

“Yeah, hold on. It’s… no, it’s not.” It only takes a few seconds - you offer it back to him, but he shakes his head, so you just put it in the centre console. “Why?”

“Because…” Vincent’s grin gets impossibly bigger, laughing as you race down the A-road that leads into the woods surrounding Dahlia. “I’d know that old thing a mile away. Say hello, lovely!”

He flashes the hazards again, sticking two fingers in his mouth for a piercing wolf-whistle before flipping off the truck going the other w- hold on, that’s Sam’s truck, why’s he heading out now if you’re meant to be-

“Better luck next time, old man!” Vincent shouts over his shoulder, and there’s that vampire hearing - true to form, his phone lights up with an incoming call, the familiar piano loud as it vibrates. “Finders keepers!”

Twisting round in your seat, you laugh as Sam’s truck disappears when you turn the corner, leaning over to kiss Vincent’s temple partly in shock, but mostly in elation. “Breaking me out of prison, hmm?”

“For you, baobei?” He threads his fingers between yours, that lovesick look you know so wonderfully well, gently pulling your hand to press his lips to your wrist. “I’m stealing you all for myself.”

His other hand flicks the left indicator on, which is a bit of a surprise. Isn’t home in the other direction? “Are we not…?”

He scoffs theatrically, and it’s unfair that he can make it sound so cute. “Going home? No. What’d you wanna do that for?” Your phone starts buzzing, Sam clearly having given up on Vincent answering, but you both ignore it. “I thought we could, uh, go on a little adventure tonight. Just us.”

“Oh, is that what we’re calling it?” He flushes slightly at your tone, cheeks slowly turning pink, and your smile widens as he deliberately avoids your eyes in the mirror. “Last time we went ‘adventuring’, we ended up fucking up the suspension so much that even you said you were gonna have to pay someone to fix it. Sure you wanted to bring this car?”

“I - you-!” Flustered, he stabs clumsily at the centre console, pointedly turning the volume up even as his blush deepens and deepens with your wicked laughter. “ Just- just pick a song!”

The drive isn’t too long, all things considered - it’s only about an hour, maybe a bit more. It’s not like the roads are all that busy at 1am, you know? At first, you’re not really sure where he might be taking you, but about twenty minutes in he turns down onto the coast road, and it clicks.

“At this hour? It’ll be freezing!” He really thinks he’s slick, doesn’t he? And okay, yeah, he kind of is, but there’s no way you’re telling him that. Got to keep him on his toes, after all.

“Mmm, it will be, won’t it?” Up ahead, the lights turn red at the junction. Ever a man of opportunity, he wastes no time - the car’s barely stopped before he’s kissing you, one hand under your jaw and the other sliding down to rub teasingly over your hip. “Gonna keep - nnng - gonna keep me warm, lovely?”

“Haahh-” Soft, always so soft. Pulling slightly against your seatbelt, closer closer closer - ooh, is that strawberry chapstick? Between the fizz of his hands on your skin and the sweetness of his mouth against yours, it’s kind of hard to come up with a coherent response. “Yeah, mmm, yeah, just- hm?”

Unfortunately, he breaks what was shaping up to be a very nice kiss as a motorbike speeds past, straight over the junction. Oh. Right, yeah, the traffic lights. You’d sort of forgotten about that. Thank goodness there’s nobody else behind you. Vincent’s gaze meets yours, washed in green light, lips already slightly pinker than normal - you’re so tempted to ask if you can pull over. Come on, nobody’s looking. Just for five minutes?

(Well, maybe ten. Fifteen. Twenty? Maybe just a bit longer-)

The glovebox clicking open knocks you out of your pleasant reverie, watching Vincent rifle awkwardly through the mess of CD cases before extracting a half-empty bottle of chewing gum.

“Want some?” He rattles the jar towards you, popping two in his mouth before grimacing in surprise. “Wait, this-”

Pushing his sunglasses back up into his hair, he looks properly at the label this time, and you’re not saying his age is catching up to him, but… “Fuck, I forgot I ran out of strawberry.” Undeterred, he takes a third one before handing you the bottle, stepping on the pedal as you put it back in the glovebox. “I think it’s spearmint? Peppermint? Oh, I don’t know - the one Lexi had the other day.”

“Did she get it for you?” You’re surprised. When Alexis and Vincent buy things for each other, they’re normally one of two things: specifically designed to make the other’s life noticeably worse, or costing at least several thousand dollars. Somehow, you doubt that this particular jar of chewing gum was either of those things, but Alexis Solaire is nothing if not full of surprises.

“Nah. Nicked it off her desk,” he declares, looking far too pleased with himself as he flicks the indicator down. “She likes that awful cinnamon-flavoured shit more anyway, so really I’m doing her a favour.”

(Yeah, okay. That sounds more like the pair of them. You won’t mention the industrial-sized roll of tin foil that you saw her and Christian dragging into Vincent’s room at Will’s house.)

Humming along to the CD player, he turns off down one of the side roads - you know the sort, one of those that’s not really a road at all, just a sort of gap in the hedgerow. It’s just dirt, and it’s kind of bumpy, but it gives Vincent an excuse to go and fuss over his precious paintwork, so he’s fine with it. Sam complains about it every time he comes down here, but that’s what you get when the suspension on your truck is practically prehistoric, isn’t it?

“Wanna go inside for a bit? Or straight out to the back?”

“Uh…” As nice as the house is - and make no mistake, it’s really nice - you’d rather get straight to it. It’s not everyday you get to spend some time at a place like this. “Straight through?”

“Sure.”

The house belongs to William, but it’s not associated with the business as one of the actual, like, ‘Solaire Properties’. Really, it’s just for family or clan stuff - you’ve been down here several times before, mostly for birthdays or celebrations or whatever. Vincent’s never gone into too much detail, but from what you’ve heard about William’s life before the whole rich-vampire-king palaver, he’s always liked the sea. He loved it from afar, as Vincent puts it, but you gather that he never really had much of a chance to enjoy it.

That’s why he bought this place, apparently - a long-held dream fulfilled, and you’re not going to begrudge him that. It’s not very easy for vampires to really do beach holidays. Good on him for finding a convenient (if eye-wateringly expensive) way to do it.

(When she’d mentioned it to you the first time, Alexis had called it a nice little summer house. Your definitions of ‘nice’ and ‘little’ clearly aren’t quite the same. For starters, you probably wouldn’t include a multi-million dollar beachfront property in one of the most beautiful places on the California coast, but apparently that just shows how much you know. Turns out the dollar really is almighty, and William Solaire certainly has a lot of them.)

“Hope you brought your swimsuit, baby,” he says innocently, fiddling with his phone and unlocking the gates. His wry grin betrays him, though - he forgets every time that you can still see him in the rearview mirror. “Water’s nice, this time of year.”

“You little…” Oh, he’s going to be for it in a minute. “Who on earth do you know that brings a swimsuit to a Dreamwalking lecture?”

“My lovely, caught unaware? Surely not!” He gasps in faux surprise, now not even trying to hide the smirk spreading across his face. “I reckon you had this planned, you know.”

“Yeah?” This should be good. “And how did I do that, hmm?”

“Oh, it’s very simple,” he proclaims, free hand gracefully pulling his sunglasses off and tucking them in his shirt pocket as he turns down the drive. “You’ve lured me out here with your effortless charm and stunning good looks, with the promise of getting to take a swim all alone with my gorgeous lovely, only to turn on your heel and deprive me of the one thing I’ve been looking forward to all week.“ It’s unfair how cute that stupid pout of his is, sighing plaintively as he laments your supposed scheming. "You’re so mean to me, you know that?”

“Am I, now?” It’s always fun, playing along with him. “I’m sorry, my love,” you say mournfully, leaning across to press a kiss to his cheek and smiling as he tries not to blush. “However could I make it up to you?”

“Well, I do know one way we could make this work…” he says, valiantly ignoring the flush slowly spreading across his face at the absolutely shameless once-over he gives you. “I mean, you don’t have to be wearing anyth- hey!”

“Nice try, loverboy,” you announce, haughtily settling your newly-acquired sunglasses atop your head. “Like hell you’re getting me in there with nothing on - it’s fucking freezing!”

Vincent sighs, plaintive and airy, like it being 1am and pitch-black outside shouldn’t matter. Ooh, he’s lucky he’s so pretty. “Too bad, sha gua, too bad. Guess I’ll have to find some other way to get you w- okay! I’m st- I’m stopping!”

Bastard. One-handed, he bats away your hands from his hair as he pulls up by the sand, fingers flexing on the wheel when you manage to get just close enough to kiss the corner of his mouth.

“Rude.” He huffs, giving you that stupid, cute pout that really shouldn’t be as attractive as it is. “I thought that was pretty good, actually.”

You give him a look. “I’m not sure pick-up lines have ever been - hey - waitwaitwait!”

You’re never going to be used to that vampire strength, are you? The angle is ridiculous, but his hands lock around your waist before you can protest, and somehow he manages to manoeuvre you over the centre console and into his lap without too much fuss.

Vincent opens his mouth, smug as anything, but he only manages a sort of garbled half-noise before your hand quickly shuts him up.

“That does not count as a pick-up line!”

He stares, cross-eyed, down at your hand for a surprised second, before petulantly trying to lick your palm in retaliation. Luckily, you’re wise to his tricks by now - you pull your hand away just in time and fix him with the best glare you can muster, although it’s probably undercut by the fact that you’re trying really hard not to laugh.

Undeterred, he smirks up at you, brushing the hair out of his face with a satisfied flourish.

“Yeah, but you thought it was hot.”

Fuck. He’s right. You stutter into an excuse for a second, but it doesn’t come - instead, you just slide your hands up his chest, over his shoulders and up to his jaw, before just leaning down and kissing him. It always works.

True to form, he melts into your touch, letting you kiss the mint-flavoured smirk right off his face with a pleased sigh. Quick fingers twist into the fabric of your shirt, and you’re just running your tongue over his bottom lip when-

“Wait - just - just a sec-”

He pulls back unexpectedly, reaching over and fumbling around in the glovebox for a second, one hand holding your hip to keep you balanced in his lap, before extricating an old receipt. Neatly, he drops his gum into the paper, folding it in half to stick it to itself before depositing it into the cupholder to throw away later.

“Okay!” He grins up at you, blindingly beautiful, and you almost have to blink away the sunspots in your eyes. “Where were we, again?”

This time, you don’t bother trying to hide your laugh - instead, you just muffle it in his shoulder, letting him nip affectionately at your neck against the gentle sound of waves lapping at the sand. “Hate you.”

“Yeah,” he replies airily, and you don’t need to look to see his smile. “Hate you too.”

You pull back and he ducks his head slightly to kiss you again, tongue brushing lightly against your lip until you tilt your head slightly to - yeah, that’s a better angle. Vaguely, you’re aware of him guiding your legs around his waist, and you can feel him standing up and getting out of the car, but most of it is forgotten as the warm haze of his kisses swirls through your brain and makes your fingers go all tingly.

Although your eyes are closed, you can tell that he’s walking somewhere from the movement of his body against you, the sound of sand under his feet, but where’s he going? Into the house? Cracking one eye open, you can see the dark shape of the garage in front of you - so he’s heading towards the water, then. Wait, but why would he - oh, no fucking way-

“Mm - mmf!” Swallowing a giggle at his stunned face, you wriggle out of his arms with a sharp twist and a burst of vampiric speed, before turning and scrambling away across the sand. Shocked, he’s not quite quick enough to grab your arm as you dodge out of the way, and he laughs in surprise as you make him chase you further and further towards the sea.

“Oh, I don’t - I don’t think so-!”

“Catch me if you can!”

As fast as you’re going, it’s basically no distance at all until you’re splashing into the shallow water. Spray kicks up around your ankles, soaking into your shoes and socks, but it can’t weigh you down. You dance out of his way regardless, heart pounding giddily as adrenaline rushes through your body, dipping your hand down to flick water at him whenever he looks in danger of getting slightly too close.

“Still - fuck! - still too slow!” He almost manages to snatch the back of your shirt, and you stick your tongue out at his wounded expression as you back up into the slightly deeper water. “See, I told you I was faster…”

“You - get - get back here!”

He lunges for your waist, but he’s too slow - with a splash, he topples through the space where you used to be and goes face first into the freezing water. Luckily, it’s deep enough that he doesn’t just hit the ground, and you wade gingerly towards him as your body starts to register the cold.

“Lovely!” Spitting out a mouthful of seawater, you’re met with the distinctly-bedraggled shape of a very wet Vincent Solaire, blinking the salt out of his eyes. The shock of the cold water forces the breath out of him, but for some reason it can’t make him any less unfairly attractive. You don’t bother to hide your satisfied smirk at the sight of him raking his soaked hair out of his face with one hand, white t-shirt now slightly see-through and clinging to his chest.

“You - you!” he gasps, pointing accusingly at you with as stern a glare as he can muster. “Oh, when I get my hands on you, I-”

He’s cut off by your gleeful kiss, throwing yourself through the waist-deep water at him and knowing that he’ll catch you. Mmm, he’s such a sucker.

“Yeah?” you say between kisses. “You’ll what?”

“I…”

After a pause, he shrugs half-heartedly and gives in to let you kiss him again. “Probably - mmm - yeah, uh, probably that…”

Moonlight sparkles on the water as he clutches you tighter, drinking in the familiar taste of you. Cold currents come and go, but neither of you really notice, far too swept up in each other for it to matter - besides, the warmth of his body against yours is more than enough to keep you happy.

After a little while, he moves to kiss slowly down your neck, leaning you back slightly in his arms to get a better angle. Your fingers tangle in his hair, dark and dripping, and he sighs happily against your skin when you pull slightly, just the way he likes.

“Tianshi…” he murmurs, fangs digging gently into your skin because he knows it makes you shiver. “You shouldn’t tease, you know.”

“Mm, you started it,” you reply. “Whose good idea was it to go swimming in the middle of the night, again?”

“Hm.” You can feel him pouting, muttering quietly into your shoulder. “Like ‘m giving up my lovely for some stupid tutoring.”

He makes a good point. This is much nicer than whatever boring textbook questions Sam was supposed to be making you do right now. In your magnificent generosity, you reward your saviour with a benevolent kiss to his temple, before your hand trails down over his neck, his shoulder, across his-

“Did you-?”

“Hm?” Tilting back just a little, he looks down at himself like he’s as surprised as you are that his shirt has disappeared. “Oh, yeah.”

Biting back a laugh, you smack his arm with a quiet slap. “Now who’s the tease?”

“What? Do you like wearing wet jeans?” he asks smugly, smirking as he hears your heart speed up - the dark water comes up to about his waist, so you dread to think what other bits of clothing he’s got rid of while you weren’t looking. “That’s what I thought.”

You roll your eyes good-naturedly, patting him on the shoulder in consolation. “Remind me to send him flowers when we get back.”

“Who said he taught me? You don’t know! I could’ve, um-”

His cry of indignance is swiftly cut off by your flat stare. You know exactly where he got this from. After a brief stand-off, he sighs in apparent defeat, bending down slightly to scoop you up so that he’s properly carrying you. “Yeah, it was Gavin.”

“Knew it!” you sing, cheerfully kicking your legs as he starts to walk back out of the water, up towards the sand. “You think I haven’t seen him trying it with Freelancer before?”

He pretends to sulk, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. “And here I thought you were looking at me…” The sand crunches quietly underfoot as he carries you towards the car, and the slight breeze is pleasantly cool against your warm skin. “What do I have to do to get your attention, hm?”

Sneaking a downwards glance, you raise an eyebrow. Turns out he wasn’t lying about the jeans. “I could think of a few things.”

“Only a few?” He scoffs, before leaning down to press his fangs to that sweet spot just under your jaw. “Keep up, tianxin, and you’ll get more than that.”

A burst of magic fizzles over your body, warm and crackling shivers from head to toe. Before you can blink, you’re both completely dry, and one look at him tells you exactly what you need to know - ooh, he’s been practising that one. He preens under your gaze, tossing his head proudly to flick his now-dry hair back out of his eyes.

God. He’s so pretty.

The walk back to the car isn’t far, but he doesn’t put you down - instead, he opts to lean down and lay you gently back against the hood, kissing you down against the warm, smooth metal. Back arched slightly over his arm, it’s a little uncomfortable, so you have to shift around a little bit in order to-

“Mmm…”

Maybe he thinks it was on purpose, or maybe he knows and he just doesn’t care - whatever the case, he rocks his hips back down to meet you, and that’s when you notice that he’s got rid of your clothes, too.

“Haah - Vincent!”

He doesn’t even have the good grace to look appropriately chastised at your muffled shout, just grabbing your wrists before you can try to slap his side and pinning them above your head with a devilish smile. Any protest you may have had quickly disappears when he grinds against you, thin cotton all that separates you, melting into a soft moan that drips off your fangs and runs down your chin.

“What - nnng! - what’s the matter, lovely?” he says, breathless. “Having second thoughts about your study session?”

“Yeah, yeah…” Lost in the heat and the hardness of him, it’s getting more and more difficult to put words together. “Think you - mmm, think you should persuade me…”

You don’t have to tell him twice - the world blurs around you as he lifts you up, depositing you on the passenger seat as he slips down to kneel in the footwell, and you hastily grab his shoulder in surprise as he presses the little button on the seat, sliding it back to give himself a little more room.

“We have - fuck! We have a bed in - inside!” Your half-hearted protests go ignored in favour of strong hands impatiently tearing the rest of your clothes away, shredded fabric littering the floor beside him.��God, that shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

He lifts one dark eyebrow, challenging, although he can’t quite keep his eyes on your face. “You want me to wait?”

“No, no, this is - no, this is fine-!”

Words melt away as he eagerly grabs your hips, pulling you forwards to the edge of the seat and burying his face in you with a long, drawn-out moan. Mmm, he really doesn’t waste any time - your fingers unconsciously find their way back into his hair again, twisting and tugging with every flick of his tongue, sloppy, sticky kisses that make your cheeks burn and your insides twist with need. Your nails digging into his scalp only seem to encourage him, wonderfully warm as he licks a slow, burning trail all the way down before speeding back up until you’re shuddering in his enthusiastic hold.

“I - oh, I - ahhh…”

Almost too fast for you to notice, a tiny burst of magic swirls around his fingers - oh, you definitely remember Gavin teaching him that one. Gently, he eases his middle finger into you, stretching you ever so sweetly, and you have to clamp your hand over your mouth to stifle what you’re sure would be an embarrassingly loud whine.

“Baby…” Vincent clearly disagrees, though, nudging your legs up over his shoulders and nipping at the soft inside of your thigh in disappointed reprimand. “Wanna hear!”

A graceful hand runs blindly up your body to tug your hand away from your mouth, depositing it firmly back in his hair where it belongs. You can’t complain - and even if you wanted to, the high-pitched keen that fills your mouth as a second finger slips inside you leaves no room for objection.

It doesn’t help that even like this, he’s still so fucking beautiful - crescent-moon eyes closed, groaning in pleasure at the taste of you, achingly hard but refusing to let go of you even for a second. Your head falls back against the headrest, back bowing as you roll your hips slightly, and the change in angle lets his fingertips press just right - fuck, just right against that spot inside you that makes your breath stick in your chest and your eyes go all blurry.

“Yeah?” The look he gives you is wicked, filthy grin all smeared and sticky. Fuck, he sounds absolutely wrecked, words lazy and languid as he kisses the words into you. “Right there, xingan?”

You nod frantically, nails scraping harsh lines into the tanned skin of his shoulders. He hisses with the pleasurable sting, and you watch them fade and heal over almost as fast as you can make them. “Mm-hmm, mmm, yeah-!”

It’s too much - deft fingers curling and stroking, the vibrations of his voice thrumming over you, all warm and wet and messy. Fuck, it feels like your whole body is burning, trembling in his grip, skinbuzzing like a livewire. The leather underneath you sticks and catches as you writhe under Vincent’s attention, and a flood of heat rushes through you at the reminder that you’re just out here in the open, entirely at his mercy.

“I - oh, fuck,” you gasp out, curved forwards over him as your body greedily tries to pull him impossibly closer. “It - ahh, it’s-”

“I know, baby - I know,” he chokes out, sounding almost as desperate as you feel. “Come on, come on, lovely - nng, please!” Mouth full, sentences all slurring together as he buries himself in you, it’s enough to make you wail with each breath, the delicious stretch of his fingers and the sharp tease of his fangs. “Please, want it, I wanna see-”

He strokes his thumb over your thigh, silent question obvious as he looks pleadingly up at you - you must nod, or tell him yes, yes of course, because the next thing you know is the white-hot ecstasy of the bite, needy and glittering, and all of a sudden you’re falling apart. Legs trembling, eyes slammed shut as you sob through your orgasm, all you know is the familiar kiss of Vincent’s mouth on you, strong hands trailing warm, comforting patterns over your skin, and the distant sound of your own cries.

For a long moment, you’re floating, a joyful balloon on a satisfied string. Vincent takes you in his hands with a soft smile, and slowly pulls you back down to earth.

When you finally blink back to yourself, you’re slumped loose and heavy over Vincent’s shoulder, flopped forwards against where he’s kneeling up in front of your seat. He hums quietly as he feels you stir, one hand smoothing comforting circles into your back, and you nestle your face into the side of his neck with a pleased sigh.

“Back with me, baobei?”

“Mm,” you say eloquently. “Yeah.”

“Good.” He kisses the side of your head before tenderly nudging you backwards a little bit, giving himself a bit more room to clamber out of the footwell. He almost manages it, too - the effect is ruined slightly when he trips over the lip of the floor, stumbling awkwardly into the open door and nearly smacking his face against the handle, and you giggle at the indignant glare he shoots at the side of the car.

“Ooh. Smooth.”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” he grumbles, though there’s no heat behind it. “Only the best for you, xiaogongju.”

You take his offered hand with a flourish, letting him guide you up and out of the seat and onto shaky legs - after a few steps, he decides to take matters into his own hands and just lifts you up into his arms like a bride, your head back on his shoulder. From here, you gaze idly out at the dark line where the sky brushes the sea, just barely visible even to your enhanced eyes, and let yourself rest in the gentle sound of the waves.

(A quick look back shows you - oh, that’s going to be a bitch to clean out of the leather. Whatever. It was worth it.)

“Love you,” you murmur through your hazy smile, fingers brushing back and forth over the dips and hollows of his collarbone. “Gonna get you back later.”

“Love you too, baby.” Waves lapping at the sand, salt and heat and happiness, the chill of the breeze. “I look forward to it already.”

He catches your lips in a short kiss, sweet and soft and painted in moonlight. Vincent carries you into the house, closing the door behind you, and all you can think is that this is much, much better than a study session.

masterlist

this is an original work by @gingerbreadmonsters - please do not repost or misattribute

[jaemified]

SNOWED IN ! [ep.iii] | forced proximity

“literally hate you jeon wonwoo”

a barista xu minghao x receptionist reader smau

‘welcome to first class resort’

previous | MASTERLIST | next

updates ; every saturday-monday (new schedule bc work is kicking my ass</33)

synopsis ; after a long first week of their first quarter at work, y/n and her department just want to go out for burgers before being snowed in the hotel thanks to an unexpected snowstorm.

🏷️ ; @minhui896 @snowcake666 @kissesfrmwonwoo @wonqr

couldnt tag ; @/heelarious @/minghaossv

note - if u see those blank pages below this then the tweets ur phones not glitching its just to fix the format:)

read below the cut !

before any of the staff realized, their first week of the new quarter had flown by, and it was time to go home for the weekend (or, just saturday since they had to come back sunday).

the first concierge/receptionist unit (aka miyeon, y/n, minnie, chan, soonyoung, sakura, and mingyu) finished cleaning up their stations, before miyeon and y/n went to explain the night shift to the manager of the second unit from the other department.

“finally, just barely 20 minutes overtime. its only 10:20 but does anyone want to go for a late dinner with the other staff from our department?” miyeon suggested to her team of 6.

“yeah sure, ill need to find seungkwan first? he’s my ride home.” chan said as he started to walk down the hall as soonyoung called out, “make sure he brings down all of his staff too!”

“alright is that a yes from everyone else?”

“except for me, my auntie is visiting from japan and i need to be the one to pick her up from the airport.” sakura said while waving at everyone as she walked towards the exit.

the unit began to converse amongst themselves as they waited for the other staff in their department before they felt the ground shake the walls harshly, the winds howl as their speeds increased and the front doors be pushed open.

“earthquake! everyone get under the desk!” miyeon yelled out, her staff being her priority as manager.

they all took cover underneath the receptionists desk before hearing a loud thud after a few minutes, leaving the glass on some of the doors shattered.

everyone got up to see what the noise was, only for their faces to freeze in shock.

“s-snow?!” minnie exclaimed. “there wasnt any snow in the forecast this week at all! and its barely the first few weeks of winter..”

“im sure you’re just as shocked as any of us are. i hope sakuras safe, im just glad she got out. uh- y/n! call sakura while i try to reach seungkwan and josh? and someone go to check out the side and back doors! don’t go alone! the powers iffy right now.” miyeon safely instructed off the top of her head, trying to remain calm in front of her staff.

you pull out your phone, dialing sakuras number as you tap your foot repeatedly against the floor in impatience and worry.

she picked up after the first few rings, “hello?”

“sakura! where are you? are you okay?”

“no, yeah im fine. im just off the side of that bridge a few miles away from the hotel. but the real question is, are you guys okay?”

“you felt it? we’re fine. splitting up duties to ensure safety. and why are you off to the side off the bridge? i assumed you wouldve been at the airport already.”

“everyone in seoul felt it. but i think it hit you guys the hardest since it came closest from that direction. you know, some cars were flipping over as i was about to pull out the parking lot!”

“just glad youre safe, but if you see the hotel, how bad does it look like we’re snowed in?”

“pretty bad.. looks snowed in on all sides and that wall of snow is so tall it goes beyond the 9th floor. that’s at least 7 meters thick going outwards.”

“shit. alright. i gotta go, but get home safely okay? bye!”

after getting off the phone with sakura, y/n goes back as she sees some of her coworkers returning from opposite directions after looking at the exits.

“theyre all blocked. completely. the garage tunnel is entirely blocked through the stairs, elevator, and side door too.” mingyu and soonyoung reported with minnie following not far behind despite being told not to go alone.

“should we call the police?”

“ill try, i just got off the phone.” you said, but just as you swiped emergency call, you immediately had no bars. “what? anyone else have service?”

everyone pulled out their phones and held it in the middle so you could see, “guess the signal just dropped.” you muttered as you dialed 119 anyway.

‘we’re sorry, the person you are trying to reach is-’

“has anyone noticed chan hasnt come back yet? its been like, well over 20 minutes.” mingyu questioned while looking around the darkly (and eerily) illuminated halls.

as mingyu walked closer, he let out a loud scream as he saw a big snd ominous silhouette coming towards him before he realized it was the rest of the staff from their department.

miyeon walked passed mingyu, playfully slapping his back before meeting up with the other managers seungkwan and josh.

“hi wonwoo.” you smiled, wrapping your arms around him brightly as you were now reassured your childhood best friend was safe now that he was in your arms.

“hi y/n. you’re not hurt or anything right?” he asked while looking around your body as he kept his hands on your shoulders.

“no im completely fine. what took you guys so long to come out though?”

“we still had a lot to clean up, but then chan went to kwans restaurant then jun just HAD to make a quick meal for him before coming to us and it always takes long if the cafe is the last stop.”

after everyone discussing what had to be discussed, such as agreeing to try calling for help in the morning, etc, etc, wonwoo announced to everyone they’ll have to check out rooms for each other and that they had to be paired up into twos.

so of course, he made you and minghao be ‘roommates’ for the time being.

“are you serious??” minghao whisper shouted as he pulled wonwoo into a corner, watching as everyone walked towards the stairwell.

“you were the only two left.” wonwoo shrugged, playing it off even though he was aware minghao clearly knew about his schemes.

after climbing 29 flights of stairs (seeing as the elevator broke), you were all beyond exhausted.

so, you took your room key from miyeon before following minghao to your shared room.

you opened the door and sigh in relief as you saw the two beds separated by a nightstand, taking off your shoes before lying down.

minghao ran a hand through his hair as he walked out from the bathroom to get himself ready for bed.

he went under the white sheets and muttered a grumpy, “dont even try talking to me.” before turning out the light, leaving you with your thoughts in the darkness.

[mjrtaurus]

Hot takes on the RA that I need to share

- they have a book club (it’s very bad and mainly consists of y/n x monkey d dragon fanfction and bodice ripper romance novels)

- Iva is a collector of said y/n x moneky d dragon fanfiction (whether for blackmail or entertainment no one is sure)

- Hack and Dragon have gotten white girl wasted on wine together

- koala had the biggest fattest most mortifying crush on dragon for about 3-6 months when she was 14-15 (she will take this to her grave)

- Inazuma organized orgies before

- there is an ongoing game of hide and seek/tag currently sabo is it

- dragon has been voted to have the sexiest forearms on base

- Karasu maintains that he can talk to pigeons

- sabo has fallen alseep upright during meetings

These are very good hot takes and I definitely would like to pitch in a few if that’s good with you:

- Dragon is very much aware of the book club (and the scandalous content within) but lets it continue because shutting it down would be tantamount to closing a public library, and it would lower morale.

- Some of said bodice ripper romance novels have found their way to his personal quarters. None of them are the y/n x him genre, but morbid curiosity is slowly but surely getting the better of him.

- Morley is the number one book club fangirl. She reads everything and offers very in depth reviews and gives a lot of helpful constructive criticism if asked. She has written a few of them of her own under a pseudonym. Nobody but Iva and Inazuma know this.

- Hack is a loud drunk, and Dragon is a silly drunk. Both are known lightweights. They need adult supervision as they are like a pair of Dennis the Menaces working in perfect sync.

- Lindbergh will fuck with Sabo and Koala by using his electro like a hand buzzer. He tried it once with Dragon as a test, and sure enough the man was totally immune to it. His hair was slightly more unruly from it, though.

- speaking of Lindbergh, he went Sulong on base exactly once and scared the shit out of everyone. He doesn’t recall anything but he was told he raided the pantry and then started taking rudimentary measurements of his claws.

- Koala is probably the most foul-mouthed out of everyone there. She can cuss even the most hardened of sailors under a table and right back up over it like it’s nothing. She yells “FUCK” at the most minor inconveniences. Sabo thinks it’s hilarious.

- Karasu was born with a cleft lip and his hatred of being misunderstood stems from the difficulty he had in learning to speak. He’s since had surgery to correct the malformation, but wears his mask to hide it because he gets mistaken for a mink due to where and how the scarring rests on his upper lip.

- Dragon and Sabo both suffer from restless leg syndrome and swap tips and tricks on how to manage.

- Inazuma sews stuffed animals for the kids that they bring in. First she asks them during class what each of their favorite animals are, and then he draws up patterns of them and gets to work. The kamabakka help, as many of them are skilled tailors and seamstresses.

- Iva organizes drag shows for boosting morale. Every single one of the commanders has dominated the stage before. Dragon had to lose a bet with Kuma before he joined in on it (with the caveat that if it did feel genuinely Uncomfortable™️ at any point he could freely back out), but ended up enjoying the experience. He sets aside time whenever a show is coming up to consult Iva on what his next look ought to be.

- Dragon rarely ever gets sick, but when he does, it hits him like a brick at sixty miles per hour. The first time it happened, Sabo was convinced he had some deadly disease that was going to end his life, but no. He just happened to get the flu for the first time in like… twelve years.

[mrs-sharp]

The Eyes of Graphorns

Can't believe we've already reached chapter 7 of this story.

Read part 1-6 here.

Pairing: Aesop Sharp x MC

tw: angst, mention of pain, alcohol, physical touch

Summary: Elaine finds her colleague, Professor Sharp, in a state of distress. Dealing with physical and emotional pain, Sharp reluctantly lets Elaine help him - developing a deeper connection to her.

Chapter 7 - Firewhisky and Despair

The school routine had Elaine in its grip completely. Dinah Hecat was always there with advice, yet she spent almost every free minute occupied with preparing lessons, checking homework, correcting written works, and helping her students prepare for their OWLs or their NEWTs. Soon enough, October had passed. For several days, it had been raining incessantly. Elaine had just finished her last class for the day and was on her way to her accommodation in the teachers' tower. She stopped outside the door. She still hadn't gotten used to living in Fig's old quarters, and every time, she hesitated before entering the room. Most of the time, she pondered if she had forgotten something to have an excuse to go back. She turned around, leaned against the wall, and let out a sigh as she sank to the floor.

Elaine glanced at the stairs in the corridor and reached into the pocket of her coat. She pulled out a small vial containing a potion. She turned it in her hands, held it up to the light, and examined the label. Maybe today she would gather enough courage. Maybe today was a good day to…

Suddenly, she heard voices from above. She couldn't understand what was being said, but her senses told her something was wrong. Without further thought, she ascended the stairs - swiftly - but not too hastily, so as not to attract attention in case she was mistaken. Outside Professor Sharp's quarters, Elaine encountered Professor Garlick, nervously knocking on his door. Next to her were Weasley and Ronen.

"Could you please open the door? I have the ingredients you asked for," Garlick said.

No response. This time, Professor Weasley tried her luck.

"Aesop, please, let us in."

"I'm busy!" echoed from behind the closed door.

Elaine remained in the corridor behind her colleagues.

"Is... everything alright?" Elaine asked cautiously. All turned simultaneously. Just as Elaine caught their concerned looks, she heard a sound from Sharp's room that made her shudder. In her years as an Auror, she had heard many things, from the breaking of bones to the rattling breath of Dementors, but none had ever startled her like this. It was a mixture of a cry and a groan.

Garlick shook her head, "We had an appointment, but he won't open the door. He's locked himself in." Her voice trembled slightly as she spoke. Her gaze darted indecisively between Ronen and Weasley, as if hoping one of them had a solution.

"Perhaps we should leave," Professor Weasley began, "in this state, he's... unpredictable." In her gaze, Elaine sensed a mixture of concern and tension. Again, a cry of pain could be heard from the room. Elaine still held the vial tightly clenched and now let it slip into her jacket’s pocket. She looked determinedly at the other professors.

"What's this?" Elaine asked, gesturing to the ingredients Garlick held in her hands.

"Oh, this? Just a few Abyssinian shrivelfigs and some watercress," Garlick replied. As she spoke about the plants, Garlick immediately seemed calmer.

"May I?" Elaine began and approached the door cautiously but purposefully. Garlick stepped aside. Elaine knocked.

"I said I'm busy!" echoed from the room. Sharp’s voice sounded different than usual, angry, disturbed, and irritated, and Elaine suspected it wasn't just because of the pain.

"It's me, Professor Hopkins," Elaine spoke calmly, "May I come in?"

For a moment, silence filled the room. The other professors had also noticed it and held their breaths eagerly until suddenly the click of an opening padlock was heard. Garlick, Weasley, and Ronen looked at each other in surprise until Elaine said to Garlick, "Quickly, give me the ingredients."

Elaine reached out her hand toward Garlick, and with the other, she cautiously pushed the door ajar so Sharp couldn't change his mind hastily. With one last nervous glance toward her colleagues, she disappeared into Sharp's quarters.

"Are you sure you…" Professor Weasley started to say, but before she could finish the sentence, Elaine had already quietly closed the door behind herself.

She looked around. The sight that greeted her inside the room tore her apart internally, although she had already had an idea of what to expect. First, she noticed the overturned chair, along with several partially empty bottles of Firewhisky scattered around the room. Then her gaze fell on Sharp. He sat slumped against the wall next to the open passage to the back room. Beside him lay his coat and his jacket. Sharp clutched his leg with both hands, his eyes squinted, his head bowed to his chest. He had pulled his uninjured leg close to his body. As she approached, Elaine noticed that his face was pale and had a pained expression. She could see from his shoulders that he was breathing quickly and shallowly.

She set aside Garlick's ingredients. Slowly, she approached her former teacher and knelt in front of him. When he felt her proximity, he looked up at Elaine. There was a kind of despair in his face that Elaine hadn't known from him before. His eyes stared at her, wide and full of fear, as if begging for help, but this plea couldn't escape his lips. Between his eyes lay a deep furrow. A deep sigh escaped his throat.

Elaine placed her hand on his shoulder and gently stroked the fabric of his vest with her thumb. She felt the warmth of his body and the trembling.

"It's alright, I'm here."

He responded to her words with a soft whimper. Despite his pain, he remembered that these were the words he had said to her almost ten years ago when he had found her in front of Fig's lifeless body. It embarrassed him to be seen in this state, but he felt that her touch calmed him, and she was the only one he could bear to be near right now.

Elaine reached into her pocket, pulled out the vial of potion, and placed it next to herself on the floor. The hand that had rested on Sharp's shoulder now gently rested on his hands, which still clutched his leg. She carefully released his tense grip and held his left hand for a fraction of a second longer than necessary. Their eyes met briefly before they both shyly looked down. Elaine gently touched the spot on Sharp's leg that he had been holding tightly. She bit her lip as if searching for the right words.

"May I?" she finally asked. She gestured to his leg and met his dark, heavy gaze, which drew her down into its depths. For a few seconds, silence reigned between them, interrupted only by Sharp's irregular breathing. The smell of alcohol filled the air. Elaine knew that Sharp had noticed the vial on the floor and was aware of what she intended to do. Sharp swallowed. Then he nodded, though he still hadn't managed to say a word. Elaine made him feel understood even without him speaking.

"Please, trust me."

Elaine's words wrapped warmly and softly around Sharp's tense shoulders, leaving a gentle burning sensation there that calmed his trembling a little, though he feared what was about to happen. He felt Elaine skillfully unfasten the buckles of his boots. She made great effort to keep his leg still, knowing that any movement would exacerbate the pain. Elaine placed one hand under Sharp's knee, and slowly slid it under his calf. With the other hand, she pulled on the boot, and somehow she managed to pull it off his foot in one fluid motion. Sharp cried out briefly but quickly composed himself. Elaine looked at him to gauge how intense the pain was. To her surprise, Sharp seemed to have calmed down a bit, but he still couldn't move, and his fingertips tried to find some grip on the wooden floor. He looked at her with a mixture of exhaustion and anticipation. Elaine hesitated.

"Carry on," he suddenly interrupted the silence with a raspy, rough voice, "I trust you."

Elaine turned away so he couldn't see how much his words and the sound of his voice touched her. With a discreet motion, she hastily wiped away a tear from her face. Once she had regained her composure, she began unbuttoning the buttons on the side of his trousers. She worked slowly, gradually exposing Sharp's scarred leg, trying not to pay too much attention to the intense tension in his muscles, which showed as gentle curves under his pale skin. Elaine cautiously placed a hand on Sharp's leg, feeling for where the tensions were worst. Eventually, she paused at the deepest scar.

Elaine reached for the vial and unscrewed the dropper. It contained a liquid that strongly resembled unicorn blood in colour and consistency. She dripped some of the potion onto the wound and gently massaged it into the scarred skin of his leg.

Sharp found himself secretly enjoying each of her touches. At first, he wondered if it was due to the pain-relieving effect of the elixir, but shortly after, he was sure that it was primarily the feeling of her warm skin on his own that calmed his mind. His trembling disappeared a little more with each stroke of her soft fingers. His breathing slowed and transformed into deep, steady breaths.

He couldn't understand it. How often had he viewed his injury with contempt and disgust? But he could read none of that in Elaine's face. There sat this talented, intelligent, and beautiful young woman in front of him, touching what was most vulnerable about him without flinching. She only seemed to care about his state insofar as she unconditionally accepted it. On one hand, it scared him to be so exposed to someone, but on the other hand, this moment was full of trust and security. He felt his face and his whole body filling with warmth. Her worried expression, the determination in her eyes, her fingers on his skin. All of this deeply touched him.

When Elaine was done, her hand still lingered on Sharp's leg for a while. She tried to prolong the moment a little without giving herself away. It was risky, but ultimately she didn't know how much time she had left and when she would be this close to her colleague again, who meant so much to her. Elaine didn't realize that he, too, hoped this moment wouldn't end too soon. Sharp tried not to move and even stopped breathing for a few seconds as if he could slow down time that way.

Elaine closed the vial and let herself sink to the floor next to Sharp, leaning her shoulder against his upper arm as casually as possible. He didn't seem to mind. Sharp closed his eyes and let himself be enveloped by her scent. She smelled of soap, cotton blossoms, ink on parchment, and the smoke of burnt wood. Presumably, she had been practising "Incendio" with her class before. Elaine pulled her legs to her body and wrapped her arms around them. For a while, they silently sat next to each other. Neither of them spoke about what had just happened until Sharp eventually broke the silence: "Thank you."

Elaine looked at her knees for a while. Perhaps now was a good time? She gathered all her courage.

"I... I was wondering," she began hesitantly, "if you might be interested in, perhaps, visiting me. I have a small cottage down in Cragcroft. We could cook something together. What do you think?"

Elaine bit her lip. Barely had she spoken the words, she already regretted it feeling like making a fool of herself. Sharp looked at her in astonishment. She had just seen the worst side of him, had experienced how weak and vulnerable he was, she had seen him scream, rage, and suffer, on top of that, he was drunk, and now she was inviting him over?

"I... I can understand, of course, if you don't want to…"

"Absolutely," he interrupted her before she had a chance to reconsider, "I mean... I would really like to visit you in Cragcroft."

And then Elaine did something Sharp hadn't experienced since they had been to the Room of Requirement: she smiled.

"I should go now," she replied after a while, but her facial expression told him she was looking forward to their reunion, "Will you be alright?"

Sharp nodded, "Thanks again. For everything."

When Elaine had left the room, he noticed she had left the vial behind. He wanted to get up and return it to her. After all, she probably needed it more urgently than he did, but then he noticed a note tied to the neck of the bottle with a fine string. He untied the parchment, unrolled it, and immediately recognized Elaine's neat handwriting:

"I brewed this potion from the ingredients I encountered on my travels. It cannot heal the curse, but it should alleviate the pain more effectively than a Wiggenweld potion. Please keep the bottle and consider it as a gesture of gratitude for what you did for me during my school days."

Underneath was a recipe. Sharp glanced at the list of ingredients: Dittany leaves, saltwater, juice of sleep beans, an immature air-dried poppy seed pod, devil's claw root, a decoction of acconitum leaves, a thunderbird feather and comfrey blossoms. Some of it was easy to obtain, but he knew devil's claw and thunderbird feathers was nearly impossible to get in Britain. So, he had to use the potion wisely. Sharp clasped the bottle with his hand and pressed it to his chest. Then he leaned his head back, stared at the ceiling, and let himself be filled with gratitude.

-> This way to Chapter 8 - Intuition

[ejzah]

In Miss Blye’s Class, Part 26

***

As principal, Sam Hanna made the call home about Caleb’s behavior, which meant Kensi didn’t get the opportunity to glean any details from the conversation. She also didn’t see Deeks during car rider pick up since since she was on bus duty.

The whole time, her mind kept drifting back to Caleb. He’d remained emotional the rest of the day once he returned from his chat with Sam, nearly breaking into tears a few more times, and mostly keeping to himself. It hurt to see him so off-kilter and upset

For the first time since the day she met Deeks, she found herself angry with him. He should have warned her about this; they talked nearly every day. He’d certainly had the opportunity, so it seemed an intentional oversight. As much as she tried to separate her responsibilities as a concerned teacher from her personal feelings, she couldn’t. It hurt that he’d hadn’t said anything. After everything they’d discussed and shared, he’d kept something this important to himself.

She tried not to be jealous of Monica, an unknown she’d never fully considered a threat. Maybe she should have.

Her phone buzzed while she was putting in some of the fourth quarter grades. A banner with Deeks’ name popped up with a message that disappeared too quickly for her to read. She briefly considered ignoring it to spite him, but then picked the phone up, reminding herself she was a mature adult. Playing games would solve nothing.

Deeks: Hey, can you come over tonight?

Kensi felt a wave of relief, and started typing, then erased, repeating that process several times before she settled on a very eloquent, “Ok”.

***

When Deeks got the call from St. Bridget’s he immediately thought something terrible must have happened. Though it was a relief, he was almost more shocked that Caleb was in trouble. He rarely got into disagreements with other kids, let alone acting aggressively.

Kids made mistakes though, even “good” kids. He didn’t want to come down too hard, but also couldn’t just ignore it.

He spent the drive to the school and in the car line, debating how to handle the situation. Caleb made the decision for him when he walked out, head down, and got into the truck very obviously doing his best not to look at Deeks.

“Hey kiddo, how was your day?” Deeks asked, deciding to forgo mentioning the incident for now.

“I got in trouble,” Caleb muttered into his knees.

“Yeah, I know. You want to talk about that?”

Caleb looked up for just a second, barely making eye contact, and shook his head before folding in on himself again. He stayed quiet the whole ride home, refusing to tell Deeks what was wrong or answer any questions beyond the fact that he’d thrown a toy at a classmate.

“Ok, go get started on your homework,” Deeks told Caleb when they got home, dropping a kiss on his head. “We’re going to talk about this throwing thing more later, ok?”

“Ok.” Caleb gave another nod, gently bumping him head against Deeks’ chest.

“Love you, kiddo.”

Deeks watched Caleb shuffle down the hallway to his room, then closed his eyes, blowing out a long, slow breath. Frustration mixed with a heavy dose of anger burbled up inside him.

He could hazard a guess that Monica’s surprise visit played a part in Caleb’s unusual behavior. Deeks had spent the entire hour she’d stayed trying to conceal his feelings like he always had in the past when Caleb was involved. He’d always told himself that he wouldn’t say or do anything to tarnish Caleb’s opinion of his mother, but maybe he’d been wrong.

Twisting his head side to side to try to alleviate the growing ache at the base of his skull, he settled his hands on his hips. He still needed to make dinner and finish some work. He also really needed to talk to Kensi. He didn’t quite know why he’d put it off, but the longer he waited, the harder it seemed to tell her about the latest development.

Deeks raked a hand through his hair, sending a text to Kensi, asking her to come over, then headed into the kitchen to figure out what he could throw together.

***

Kensi arrived at Deeks’ house shortly after five. He answered her knock with a spatula in one hand, and a smile that seemed less genuine than usual.

“Hey.”

“Hey, come in. I’m just finishing dinner,” he said, gesturing her in. Kensi followed him back into the kitchen, where a covered pot sat on one burner on the stove and a pan of what looked like mixed vegetables sizzles in a skillet. Deeks stirred the contents a few times, giving the pan a few shakes instead of using the spatula.

“Sorry about what happened with Caleb at school today. We’re going to talk about it a later when he has a chance to settle down a little. He’s been a little…off the last couple days. Though I know that’s no excuse,” Deeks explained, focusing on the food.

Kensi studied him as he worked, noticing the tight set of his shoulders and slightly stilted movements.

“Yeah, I noticed,” Kensi responded, hesitating briefly before she forged ahead. “He mentioned that his mom is back in town.”

Deeks stilled, his head falling forward for a moment, and she heard him swear under his breath.

“I was going to tell you,” he said.

“So, why didn’t you?” She kept her voice perfectly even, though the confirmation that he was keeping this from her made her chest tighten with a strange kind of pain. “If for no other reason than Caleb’s sake. He was kind of a mess today.”

Flipping off the front burner with a sharp twist of his wrist, he turned to face her. “To be honest, I’m still trying to process all of this. Monica just showed up without warning, like not even a call, and asked to see Caleb. I don’t know how to feel about any of it.”

“Oh.” Her dismay at this revelation obviously showed, and Deeks’ head snapped up.

“Not like that,” he clarified adamantly. “I’m not in love with Monica at all.”

Kensi studied his expression, searching for any lie in his statement, even if he didn’t realize it. She saw confusion, frustration, maybe even anger, but nothing that suggested he was concealing feelings for his ex-wife.

“I believe you. I’m sorry—”

“No, it’s ok,” Deeks interrupted quickly. He chuckled softly, tiredly. “It’s been a weird few days.”

Moving towards the table, she pulled out a chair, and motioned for Deeks to sit down. The corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly, and he sat with a heavy sigh while she took the seat next to him.

“Tell me what happened,” she prompted.

He brushed at his hair a few times before settling his chin on his folded hands.

“Two nights ago, Monica showed up, and asked to see Caleb. It’s not the first time she’s done that, but usually she gives some kind of warning. Or asks if she can come beforehand.” He rubbed his thumb along his bottom lip, his eyes distant.

“It’s been so long since we’ve seen her, I think I assumed she just wasn’t ever coming back. Once I got over the shock, I realized I really didn’t want her in the house, but she convinced me to let her in.” He shook his head. “She tried to act like nothing had changed, flirting, asking about my job, and the more she did, the more…” he trailed off.

“What happened with Caleb?” Kensi asked gently.

“Oh, the poor kid was so confused,” he said bitterly. “You know, he used to talk about her, even a few months ago, but he hasn’t recently. I think he finally came to terms with the fact that his mom is not a consistent part of his life, and then she just rocks in her wanting to do play games and read him a bedtime story. I don’t blame him for being upset.”

“It’s a lot for a little kid.” Kensi reached over and tapped one of his hands with her fingertip. “And how does the elder Deeks feel about it?”

Deeks smiled more genuinely at her question, rubbing his hands over his eyes. He looked tired in a way that went beyond the physical. The last of her irritation faded away as she cupped her hand around his.

He tipped his chin up, pursing his lips against his teeth. “Oh, I am…worried about my kid, frustrated, and beyond angry. I’m so sick of Monica disrupting our lives.” He gave Kensi an abashed look. “That probably sounds incredibly selfish.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Kensi assured him, sliding her hand up to curl around the back of his neck. “None of this is fair, and it makes perfect sense that you want stability in your life. I’m not judging you.”

Deeks leaned into her touch, and she gently brushed her thumb along his skin.

“Speaking of guilt, I never meant to keep this from you. I’m—”

Kensi pressed her finger against his lips, gently silencing him.

“No apologies, Deeks. I understand.” Leaning forward, she wrapped her arms around him as much as she could at such an odd angle. His head fell onto her shoulder, his breath warm on his skin, and she just held him tighter.

“You’re way too good to me,” he murmured.

“No, I’m not. I just love you,” she told him, running her fingers through his hair several times. She felt him relaxing in her arms after a few seconds.

“Ugh, I need to finish dinner,” he said without making a move to get up.

“How about I order pizza?” Kensi suggested. “Then maybe you can have that talk with Caleb.”

***

A/N: Drama. That’s it. Oh, and maybe a little bit of emotional whump.

[blackhakumen]

Mini Fanfic #1209: The Ultimate Two Winged Lifeform (SSBU X Sonic)

Mario Family GroupChat

Shadow: I've arrived home from work early.

Shadow: But I need you all to come outside for a sec if you can

Mario: Sure, but-

Mario: Is everything alright, son?

Peach: You're not hurt right now, are you?

Hat Kid: 😟😟

Shadow: Don't worry. I'm not injured or anything.

Shadow: I just wanted to show you something is all.

Shadow: The details themselves are complicated to explain, so you'll have to forgive me if I seem nervous or uneasy to each of you.

Sonic: Relax man, we won't judge!

Sonic: How crazy of a surprise u have in store for us could possibly be?

1:56 p.m. Smash Mansion's Front Yard........

Peach: ('GASPS')

Hat Girl: Woooooooah........

Mario: Mama Mia.......

Sonic: Siiick!

The Mario family's eyes were widening up in surprise and awe at Shadow sporting a black, supernatural looking wings in his back.

Shadow: (Soghs While Facepalming Himself a Bit) I suppose that's one way of putting it.

Mario: Shadow.....You have wings this entire time?

Shadow: No. I obtain them more recently actually. It all started when I was finishing up my training session back at G.U.N's HQ. It was a normal run-through at first, did a fair enough job holding my own against every obstacles coming my way.

Flashback

Shadow: It wasn't long before I found myself getting surrounded by a group of low to mid level robots. I prepared myself for battle until my body suddenly starts shaking and rattling out of control for a brief second, as if something was desperately trying to come out. So leaped myself up to the air-

And these two...alienated looking wings you see before you, emerges from out of my back before I swooped back down to the ground, destroying every remaining robots and obstacles left on sight.

End of Flashback

Shadow: I was then taken to the lab to run a few tests on me and apparently the one quarter of my DNA has been playing the part in all of this for quite some time. (Hands Mario and Peach the Written Results Given to Him Earlier Today)

Mario: (Reads the Paper Alone with Peach) Let's see.....80% Hedgehog.......

Peach: .........100% Ultimate Lifeform.........

Mario/Peach: (Eyes Begins to Widened at What They're About to Read Out Next) 34% Alien!?

Shadow: (Closes his Wings) Yeah. Apparently, Professor Gerald had a bit outside help in creating me all those years ago. (Sighs While Pinching the Bridge of his Nose) And it's from Black Doom of all people......

Hat Kid: (Tilt her Head and Raises an Eyebrow in Confusion) Black Doom?

Sonic: (Turns to his Little Sis) He's this creepy lookong evil alien guy Shadz and I faced the past. He even got squid eye looking thingy he uses to follow him everywhere with. (Shows Hat Kid a Picture of Doom's Eye) See?

Hat Kids: (Intrigued by the Picture Shown to Her) Ooh~ Freaky.

Sonic: I know, right? It's like it staring directly into in my soul if i stare at it for too long (Stares Directly into Doom's Eye Until-) Wait. (Looks Back Up at Shadow) So if the professor and that Doom guy were responsible for creating you the first, wouldn't that technically make both of them your dads, right before our dad?

Shadow: In a technical sense perhaps. (Crosses his Arms Together) I detest the idea of Doom being a father figure if anything......

Peach: (Already Has a Darkened Glare on her Face) Did he hurt you in anyway?

Shadow: No, not until he transformed himself into a giant grotesque monster to try and destroy our entire world he hasn't. He'd usually have his a few of his strongest Black Arms soldiers to fight me, just to see if I'm worthy of their cause or whatnot. (Rolls his Eyes a Bit in Annoyance) Then he would always get mad at me whenever I defend myself against lower classes trying to kill me on numerous occasions.

Sonic: Seriously? You guys have like the same DNA from one another.

Shadow: I have SOME of their DNA, Sonic. They'd probably saw me as an outside the moment they laid their eyes on me. Not like I ever cared to begin with. I don't associate myself with them, their leader, and their cause nor do I want to seen as of one of them.

Mario: (Frowns Worryingly) Is that why you were nervous to tell us this? You think we would see you as an evil alien hybrid?

Shadow: ('Sigh') Somewhat. It's just (Frowns a Bit as He Looks at his Wings Behind Them) These wings.....Whether I like it or not, they're part of me now and given that there's still a few more information about me that I have yet to discover, I.....couldn't help but think that it could possibly make you all think of me in a more negative li-

Both Peach and Hat Kid rushes over and give Shadow loving hugs before he could even finish the rest of sentence.

Peach: Oh my poor, sweet baby....Is that what you've been stressing yourself out all day over?

Shadow: Mother, I wouldn't exactly say I'm THAT stressed out over-

Peach: (Gives her Son a Soft Glare Along with Hat Kid) Shadow.

Hat Kid: Be honest.

Shadow: ('Sighs in Defeat') Yes, it has. It freaking me out more than anything, if I'm really being frank here.

Sonic: (Forms a Bit of a Teasing Smirk on his Face) You, the Ultimate Lifeform, getting cold feet over a bunch of wings on your back. That's a shock.

Shadow: (Gives Sonic a Deadpinned Look on his Face) You'd be like this too if you have them looking like this.

Sonic: (Casually Shrugs as He Walks Over to Shadow and Co.) It's freaky looking for sure. But it's definitely not something we'd be running away, screaming over in the long run.

Shadow: Really? Are you sure?

Hat Kid: (Happily Nodded) Mmhmm!~

Peach: (Gives Shadow the Sweetest Smile She Could Muster) You could never scare us away, sweetheart. I promise. (Gives Shadow a Loving Kiss on the Cheek)

Sonic: (Gives Shadow a Reassuring Grin) See? You have nothing to worry about here, Shadz. You're fine.

Shadow: I will be completely if you quit calling me that.

Sonic: Would you prefer being relegated back to being called "Faker" again instead?

Shadow: Can't believe I'm saying this, but I do actually. Sounds less annoying in comparison.

Sonic: (Joins in on the Group Hug) Faker it is then.

Mario: (Gives Shadow a Reassuring Smile on his Face) They're all right, you know? You being half alien and those of wings are not gonna scare us one bit and it doesn't change the fact that you're still you at the end of day. Try not to let all of this bother you too much, okay?

Shadow: (Simply Nodded ti the Command) I'll try. (Smiles a Bit) Thanks. All of you.

Mario: (Happily Join in on the Family Group Hug) You're welcome, son! We love you so much.

Shadow: Likewis-

?????: Oh. My god.

The family looks up to see Rouge using her wings flutter herself down on the ground.

Rouge: Shadow, is that really you down there or am I seeing a hedgehog angel of some kind?

Shadow: It's me, Rouge. I have wings now believe it or not.

Rouge: Oh, trust me. I'm believing it already. (Walking Around Shadow While Examining his Wings) Hm.....Okay......It's freaky looking alright. But I dig it. It goes along with your color scheme and cool demeanor pretty well.

Peach: (Happily Nodded in Agreement) I agree. It looks wonderful on you, dear. You'll get used to them eventually.

Rouge: What? They got you stressed out or something?

Sonic: Yep. Poor guy worried we'll see him as a freak now that he has them on him.

Rouge: (Turns to Shadow) You, Shadow the Hedgehog-

Shadow: Worried? Yeah. Shocker. I'm over it now.

Rouge: Well, i hope so. (Playfully Pulls Shadow's Cheek a Bit) You'll always be our soft grumpy of a hedgehog, with or without wings~

Hat Kid: (Giggles Softly at Shadow's Dispense)

Shadow: (Already Has a Deadpinned Look on his Face) Much appericated, Rouge. Now hands off my face.

Rouge: ('Sighs in Defeat') Alright. I'm gonna, you big baby. (Lets Go of his Cheek Before Giving it a Small Peck) Now, given that your sudden development, I believe flight lessons will be in top order.

Shadow: (Raises an Eyebrow) You're gonna teach me how to fly?

Rouge: Well, who else is gonna teach you? Your dad?

Mario: (Points at the Mansion Behind Him) I could grab the Wing Cup from the-

Rouge: Upupup, no need, Mr Mario. (Forms a More Confident Smile on Her Face) With grace and guidance, we'll have your boy flying around in the blue skies in no time.

Shadow: (Whispers into a Giggling Hat Kid's Ear) I'll give it one week tops before she calls it quits.

Rouge: (Glares at Shadow) I heard that! You should have more faith in me than that, you jerk!

Peach: (Gives Shadow a Motherly Glares) Shadow, don't be rude to Ms. Bat!

Shadow: (Turns to Peach) Mother, please. Do not encourage her foolishness any-

Rouge: Ooh~ Ms. Bat?

Shadow: ('Sigh') Too late.

Rouge: Such profession and sophistication it sounds. Love it. (Turns her Attention Back at her One and Only Student) Shadow, you'll now address me as Ms. Bat for now on, starting today.

Shadow: (Raises an Eyebrow in Confusion) Today?

Rouge: Yep. We're gonna start our very flying lesson starting right now.

Shadow: Seriously? I JUST got by from HQ today!

Peach: (Hugs Shadow Again) And we missed him dearly~ Can you postpone it for tomorrow instead?

Rouge: ('Sigh') Fine. First thing tomorrow morning, 9:30.

Shadow: That...doesn't sound nearly as early as I thought.

Rouge: Hey, a girl needs a lot a beauty sleep to get through the next day. Take it or leave it.

Shadow: Well-

Mario/Peach: Shadow!

Mario: Give it chance.

Peach: Please?

Shadow: ('Sigh') Fine. I'll take it.

Rouge: (Smiles Brightly) Good. We're gonna have ourselves a good training session going forward, hon!~

Shadow: (Rolls his Eyes a Bit) I'm already regretting it as we speak.

@bestpony666

@albion-93

@theweebmaster31

@ma-lemons

@decibelcoatl

@caleb13frede

@minetsudeku112

[renee-writer]

The Diary Part 2

A/N This continues @ladymeraud and I's previous work, The Diary. It is a one shot in the same universe. Enjoy.

AO3

Dr. Frank Randall loathes Scotland. It is where his ex girlfriend lives with her husband. Both are successful, damn their eyes! She runs a small hospital and he a quite successful wine and whisky company. Yet, he finds himself entering the University of Glasgow. He knows universities, having a Professorship at Harvard though without tenure. This nags at him as he enters the lecture he was searching for, book in hand.

 

A Dr. A. Reed was teaching. He isn’t sure if he is searching for a man or woman, as the book has no author’s photo. He just knows he needs to speak to this A. Reed. He has some questions. So thinking, he slips into the back row.

 

She is an older woman, he discovers. She wears jeans, a large tie-dyed t-shirt, and doc martin boots. Her long grey hair is in a ponytail.

 

“Okay everyone. This is the last class before yule and Hogmanay. You have your folders for next year when we will start the study of South America and Africa. Now would Master William and Mistress Amber please come up to the lectern.” The two walk up. Frank notes that William has red hair like his nemesis, Jamie, his Claire’s husband. His eyes narrow as Dr. A Reed continues, “Master William and Mistress Amber have the highest GPA this quarter. I am proud of them and all of you, as you all have A’s. Well done, the lot of you!” The class applauds itself and it’s star students. Frank just rolls his eyes. On the lectern, she hands William and Amber bags of things they will enjoy.

 

Everyone stands to leave. William says to his professor, “You are coming to Lallybroch for Hogmanay, aren’t you. My brother will be very disappointed if you don’t . He and Claire are looking forward to you being there.”

 

“You may tell them that I will be there and to ring me if I need to bring anything.” He nods and walks away as Frank approaches. “Hello, I saw you enter my class but I don’t think I know you.”

 

“Professor Frank Randall, of Harvard.” Arrogance drips from every word. Dr. Reed forces herself not to roll her eyes.

 

“Dr. A. Reed. How may I help you Mr. Randall?” No master honorific for him.

 

He holds up her book. “You write about the atrocities that you say the British committed against the Scots. Do you really believe this?” He refrains from showing his disgust by spitting on the floor  “What prove have you?”

 

“Mr. Randall, a relative of a certain lieutenant, I presume?” She raises her eyebrows and he nods, curtly, “Follow me. I will show you several diaries that prove it.”

 

She opens a door in the back and leads him down a small hall and into her office. It is bright and cheery. The walls are lined with bookcases. Several contain binders. Off her desk, to the side of it, is a white box. It is hermetically sealed, with twelve books in it.

 

“That one,” she catches his glance of it, “I can’t open. The books inside are over three hundred years old. Their contents, however, are in these binders. She pulls a few down and offers him a seat across from her. “You said you needed prove, Mr. Randall and here it is.” She opens the first page. It is a photocopy of the front of a diary, showing it belonged to Jonathan Wolverton Randall, aka, Black Jack, of his Majesty’s  Light Dragoons. “In his own words.” She turns a few pages and finds what she is looking for. Without preamble, she starts reading.

 

“The woman slapped me! She is English but married to a Barbaric Scot. I will have fun with her. I have Jamie in my hands. I was going to hang him but I think I will have some fun with him first, then hang what is left of him. That witch of a wife has taken my prize. I will find him!” She closes it. “It goes on and on. I have copies of Jamie and Claire ‘s diaries, from the same time period, that authentic what is in this one. I do my research Mr. Randall. Oh, several of the men working under him found that they enjoyed his brand of governance. I have their writings as well.”

 

“May I have copies of these? I have some questions about my family that I believe they will answer.” He is quite a bit humbler now.

 

She nods. “I will make you some copies.”

 

He left Glasgow with the copies in his bag. Entering his hotel, he orders dinner and some gin. It will be a long night.

 

Reading them through, he discovers that he is a relative of Black Jack’s and that Jamie Fraser lived in France and was only in Scotland by chance. He knows, as he boards his plane back to Harvard, that he will need to look into the history of the English and Scot’s in a different way.

[byneddiedingo]

Lillian Gish at MGM

John Gilbert and Lillian Gish in La Bohème (King Vidor, 1926)

La Bohème (King Vidor, 1926)

Cast: Lillian Gish, John Gilbert, Renée Adorée, George Hassell, Roy D'Arcy, Edward Everett Horton, Karl Dane, Mathilde Comont, Gino Corrado, Eugene Pouyet. Screenplay: Frédérique De Grésac; titles: William M. Conselman, Ruth Cummings; based on a novel by Henri Murger and an opera libretto by Luigi Illica and Giuseppe Giacosa. Cinematography: Henrik Sartov. Art direction: Cedric Gibbons, A. Arnold Gillespie. Costume design: Erté. Film editing: Hugh Wynn.

Bohème without Puccini, except for a few themes from the opera interpolated into the piano accompaniment for some contemporary prints. The screenplay by Frédérique (billed as Fred) De Grésac is said to be "suggested by Life in the Latin Quarter" by Henri Murger, which is also the source of the opera libretto by Luigi Illica and Giuseppe Giacosa. But the librettists took liberties with Murger, combining several characters and incidents, that are copied in the movie, so it's pretty clear that De Grésac paid at least as much attention to the opera as he did to Murger. It's very much a vehicle for Lillian Gish, making her debut at MGM. She wanted John Gilbert to play Rodolphe to her Mimi, but sometimes seems to be playing an anything-you-can-do-I-can-do-better game with her co-star. There is, for example, a scene in which Gilbert acts out the proposed ending to the play he is writing, with much swashbuckling. Then, a few scenes later, Gish acts it out again with similar verve for a potential backer for the play. Their courtship is a surprisingly hyperactive one, particularly in the scene in which they and their fellow bohemians go on a picnic that involves much running about. And Gish is not content to die calmly: On hearing that she won't live through the night, she makes a mad dash across Paris to be reunited with her lover, at one point allowing herself to be dragged along the streets while hanging onto the back of a horse-cart. Gilbert poses with feet apart and arms akimbo much too often, and the starving bohemians are given to much dashing and dancing. (Among them is the endearing and enduring Edward Everett Horton as Colline.) It's all a bit too much, and I have a feeling that the print I saw shown at the wrong speed, giving it that herky-jerky quality we used to attribute to silent films before experts corrected the speed at which they should be projected. The costumes are by the celebrated designer Erté, who is said to have had so much trouble working with Gish that he gave up designing for Hollywood.

Lars Hanson and Lillian Gish in The Scarlet Letter (Victor Sjöström, 1926)

The Scarlet Letter (Victor Sjöström, 1926)

Cast: Lillian Gish, Lars Hanson, Henry B. Walthall, Karl Dane, William H. Tooker, Marcelle Corday, Fred Herzog, Jules Cowles, Mary Hawes, Joyce Coad, James A. Marcus. Screenplay: Frances Marion, based on a novel by Nathaniel Hawthorne. Cinematography: Henrik Sartov. Art direction: Cedric Gibbons, Sidney Ullman. Film editing: Hugh Wynn.

I'm pretty sure that any high school students who think they can get by watching Frances Marion's adaptation of Nathaniel Hawthorne's The Scarlet Letter instead of reading it are likely to be disappointed in English class. That said, no film version is going to reproduce the depth of characterization, the symbolic force, or the intellectual density of Hawthorne, so we should be grateful for what this one does give us: one of Lillian Gish's greatest performances. This was Gish's second film for MGM, after La Bohème, and it suggests that her talents were better suited to a contemplative director like Victor Sjöström -- or Seastrom, as MGM insisted on anglicizing his name -- than to King Vidor's more action-oriented style. If her Mimi in La Bohème was disturbingly hyperactive, her Hester Prynne is a marvel of understated acting. She uses her eyes and mouth and the tilt of her chin to convey a miraculous range of emotions, from stubbornness to fear, from strength to frailty. It's a pity that her Dimmesdale, Lars Hanson, doesn't match her in subtlety. He's more successful in this regard in their 1928 collaboration The Wind, which was also directed by Sjöström.

[rhythm-catsandwine]

Life Finds a Way

Master list

Chapters

Read on Ao3

Summary

It can be dangerous and lonely in the black. The only thing you can do is cling together and protect those you love. Reavers aren't the only thing to fear in the black.

Will life find a way? Or will they die an early and horrific death?

Notes: This is a Firefly Au with a few additions and changes of my own. They are in a polycule, but the main couples are Danny/Maynard and Justin/Adam.

I also have no clue how many chapters there will be, and if you think something is a reference to something. It probably is.

Chapter One: Inspection

 Justin opened his eyes and stretched. “Adam.” He gently shook the man sleeping next to him. Two weeks ago he had his own bunk. A tiny space on the ship to call his own. Now he slept in the captain's quarters, but he was just the pilot. “Adam, wake up.” 

Justin opened the hatch to their bunk and climbed up to the walkway that led from the galley to the bridge. The crew bunks lined the walkway. The two biggest were across from each other where the four of them slept.

Maynard smirked before stepping down into the kitchen to make breakfast. “You two still fucking like cats in heat?”

“Least I don’t fuck Danny in the engine bay. With the door open.” Adam squeezed Justin’s shoulder before heading to the bridge. 

“You're the only one on this ship who doesn’t.”

“You two should just move in together,” Danny said.

“We already did.”

“When?” Danny his way towards the gallery, stomach growling.

“Bout a week ago,” Justin answered then turned to head up to the bridge. 

“I told you they would.” Maynard held his hand out to Danny. “Come on, pay up.”

“How? Thanks to you we have one account. How would that work?” 

“Then you do laundry for a month. Cover both our turns.” 

“Why laundry?” 

“I need a break from washing your stinky socks." Maynard turned back to the pancakes cooking on the ship’s small stove. “Pancakes, Pancakes, sure do love them pancakes.” He handed the ship foodie the first plate of his sweet delicious creation. “Pancakes, pancakes, Danny loves my pancakes. “ 

“Danny! Will you wake her up? Breakfast can wait.” Adam’s voice came from the bridge. 

Danny mumbled through a mouthful,  that sounded something like “But a growing boy needs his breakfast.”

“Fine! I’ll do it.” Their captain grumbled as he passed the other two. Once in the engine bay, he ran his finger over the metal of her hull. “Time to wake up. It’s everyone’s least favorite day of the year.” He pressed the button that made the engine start spinning. “It’s only for a couple of days then we’ll find a job, and you’ll be flying through the black again.” Adam made his way back up to the bridge.

Justin flipped a few switches and started driving the ship forward. "Wot time is her appointment?" Their boat was due for her yearly inspection. So once a year every ship had to go to a moon located in the inner planets and let the feds look all over their beloved home. 

"Hour and a half," Adam answered.  He fell back into the captain's chair. Across from where his young pilot was. "When is-"

"Atmo in one hour. Go change.” The green and blue planet and its grayish mood slowly grew bigger amongst the stars. “ N braid yer hair it makes you look a bit more polished.”

“Only for you.” Adam left the bridge once more to pull the long coat that identified him as a captain out of his entirely black wardrobe. He was only captain because he owned the ship and he made some of the tough decisions as well as found jobs that put food on the table. Other than that they voted, without rank. 

They landed softly in their inspection slot. Adam walked down the cargo bay door which doubled as a ramp. 

"Registration for ship and crew?" The inspector asked. 

Adam handed over the paper sheets. "Firefly class B midbulk cargo ship. 6th model. "

"Name?" 

"Shadow."

"Crew?"

“Adam Thomas Jones - Captain. Danie Edwin Carey - Mechanic (and one half of security), Maynard James Keenan- medical ( second half of security and cook ) - Justin Gunner Walter Chancellor - Pilot. (the pretty one )”

"License?" Justin handed over the little metal rectangle. The inspector studied it and read the notes that came up on his handheld screen. His eyebrows raised and his mouth and lips curved down into a frown. He then looked at the man in front of him. Long curls and dressed in shorts and an old t-shirt. "You've got remarkably high marks. And you sure look a little young to piolet a ship by yourself."

"Mum said I was born to fly." He grinned. 

"I'll need one more person to look at this. "

Adam sighed and rolled his eyes." yeah. So he graduated top of his class and is already one of the best pilots in the verse. No need for that. How long will we be here?”

“Well, these Firefly models have quite a few hiding spaces. Common for smugglers and pirates to fly. So it will be two days. But I’ll give you extra night credits since you were early. How many do you need? 4?”

“Two.” Adam took the two plastic hotel keys from the inspector. Then walked over to the rest of the crew. Grumbling about paranoid and corrupt government.

"You're the paranoid one," Danny said just loud enough for him to hear.  

"Someone always stays on the ship."  That was the only rule Adam had. “Someone could steal her.”

"Only your paranoid ass thinks that."

"She was once!"

"Paul's fault," Maynard added.

"You mean the betrayer?" Adam hissed.

“Least it only happens once a year.” Justin tried to soothe the irritation in the air.

"So once a year we all have to be off the ship. Big deal!”  “ It's just a ship."

"Her name is "Shadow!"" The other three said together. 

They had split up. Danny and Maynard to stock up on food. Justin and Adam went to check into their room for the night. 

"Ask Miranda" was graffitied on a few walls, trash bins, benches, and signs. 

"Wot zackly happened with Miranda? I only heard rumors as a kid." Justin asked, walking next to his captain, shoulders almost touching. He was the youngest of the crew, and just a kid when the verse changed forever. 

"So I guess a Firefly like ours but the  3rd model went there. Found out the feds created the reavers. Apparently, they fucked with the atmo to make people more relaxed.  Some went too far. Didn't care about anything.  Not food. Breathing.  Just laid down and died. But a small population went the opposite way.  Went insane and became cannibalistic. And the reavers were born. Then they stuck the memories in the verse-wide broadcast channel. So everyone knows what they did. There were rebellions. Nearly started another war."

"But why ask Miranda?"

"Cus that was the planet where it happened.  And they had a government-created psychic that as it and which made them go there." Adam pulled the other closer by the hip.” More on this later. I need a distraction from all this stupid shit.”

“Strawberrie galaxy?” Justen read the name on the bottle of lube. “Again?”

“It’s basically tradition at this point.” Each time they had to stay in the hotel waiting for inspections to be over they fucked. Distractions could hold back any paranoia. And Justin was always the main part of the distraction. Normally Adam wanted to last longer than he did. Justin liked to push them both toward the edge and then jump over it, dragging Adam with him. This was different. The longer they fucked. The less everyone had to deal with the paranoia. 

“Where ya going?” Adam wrapped his arms around his pilot's bare hips. Dark hair out of their braids, hanging down in slight waves.

“Shower. Want to join?”

The huge tub had a bench built into one side of it. Perfect for Justin to sit on the bottom and Adam to reach down and wash those long curls.

“This feels good?” a content hum answered him. “We both needed this.” Last time they were there they weren’t an official thing. One night after they fucked on the bridge under the stars, that changed. On their last job, Justin nearly died and realized how much he cared for the captain. “Okay, rinse.”  Justin sunk down under the warm water, letting the suds flow out of his hair “No. let this sit.” Adam kept him from washing off the lavender-scented conditioner. 

“Why do ya, always do this?”

‘Cus I don’t want your curls to turn into a ball of frizz.”