#I’m going nuts over all the little details I’m eating it up

[c0smickidd0]

I’M SOBBING THEY LOOK SO GOOD!!!! Awww I love this SO much THANK YOUUU 😭💗

my @ishimondoevents secret santa gift for @c0smickidd0 !!

taka’s just tryna read and mondo’s getting kinda bored watching tv, or something like that. idk they’re just hangin out :p

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

Ok so- I need some period fluff with Peter Quill. I saw you do it for Tangerine, and while I’m not a part of that fandom, i thought it would be really sweet to do it with Quill.

It’s totally okay if you’re not interested or too busy or something! Just a thought!

~Bear🐻

hii bear!! I just had to do this first (again sorry to all the others in my inbox, I’ll get there, I promise) thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

if anyone wants the tan fic, link is here

“shark week”

Peter Quill x f reader

wc || 0.8k

warnings || periods but no specific details, fluff

I don’t usually struggle with titles, but this one I did (could you tell?) 😭 I’ll change it if I think of something better

masterlist + rules

taglist

When it was your time of the month, you had a tendency to be quite sluggish and withdrawn, only ever leaving the bedroom to get more snacks or to use the bathroom. So when Peter noticed that you were confined to the comfort of his apartment on Knowhere, he was naturally a bit worried. You and Peter had been dating for a little while now, so your periods weren’t exactly foreign to him. It was just something that usually slipped his mind as he’d often be confused by different calendars amongst various planets.

Today was your least favourite of all, the day of your period that left you feeling debilitated. So for that very reason, you had spent the majority of the day snuggled in Peter’s sheets, drifting in and out of sleep and eating copious amounts of Zarg Nuts.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you see Peter standing in the doorway looking at you with an uneasy expression that instantly softens once he sees you awaken. “Hey,” he says softly, making his way over to the bed and taking a seat at the edge. “You doing okay?” Lacing his hand into yours, brushing his thumb over the back of it.

“Yeah.” You reply, sweetly smiling at him. “Just feeling shitty.”

“Why?” He tenderly questions, eyebrows furrowing as if to analyse your face.

“Bleeding.” You whisper, softly chuckling.

His eyes blow huge, darting over you with caution. “Oh— oh” he responds, finally catching on. “Shark week… again?”

“Yeah Pete, that’s how they work.” You laugh hard, abruptly cutting off when you feel something you shouldn’t have.

His reaction mimics yours, eyes widening when he sees your parted lips. “What? You okay?” His gaze follows you as you bolt out of bed. “What’s going on?”

“Just need—“ your reply muffles behind the bathroom door.

“Need what?” He sweetly questions, nuzzling his ear to the door.

“Shit.” You mumble. Now talking loud enough for him to hear. “In the nightstand, top drawer… there’s a—a paper type box, please can you bring it to me?”

Within seconds, he’s back and knocking on the door with your box of feminine products. “Do I put it under the door, or— or close my eyes? I don’t know what to do, what do I do here?” He replies, his tone flustered as he presses back up against the door.

Adjusting yourself and hiding the toilet paper. “You can come in.”

He slowly opens the door, hand clutched over his eyes as he wavers the box towards you, using the space around him as a guide. Accidentally bumping into a few things along the way. “Put your hand out… what can I get you? What do you need?” He warmly asks, gingerly backing out to give you a moment of privacy.

Stifling a snicker as you watch him leave. “I think I’m okay for now… maybe some tea? Steal it from Mantis, she has good tea.”

“On it.” Running away only to return a second later. Enunciating through the door. “I love you!”

“I love you!” You loudly reply, a wide smile spread along your lips.

When you return to the bedroom, you see Peter bundled under the covers with snacks spread across the bed, holding items to help with your cramps and pains. “Get in.” He grins, opening the covers so you could slip yourself in beside him. Snuggling next to him, he lifts your head so he could support your neck with his bicep, holding you tight against him. “I don’t know if you need this now, or…?” He starts, pulling a hot water bottle from under the sheets.

“Was that on your stomach?” You ask, a giggle held behind your lips.

Chuckling. “Yeah… feels really good.”

“Yeah, I know.” You laugh, nuzzling the side of your head into his chest. “I don’t need it right now, you can keep it.”

“Oh, you’re the best.” He smiles, resting the flat bottle over his abdomen. “Just take it off me if you need it.”

Hiding a grin, you look up at him, gazing in admiration. “I need it now.” Watching his smile slightly fade. “I’m just kidding.”

He fakes a laugh with accentuated and playful features. “Do you need anything? … medicine? Back rub? Foot rub? Kisses? Bath? Sleep? Food? Chocolate? Tummy rub? Tea? — no we got tea. I think making out will help, yeah making out will definitely help.” He aimlessly lists, staring up at the ceiling.

“Yes.”

“To what?” He boyishly grins, twisting his neck to kiss your temple.

“To it all.” You reply, wrapping your arm over his chest. “But I think a nap first, that okay?”

“I’m always down for a nap.”

[thoughtsonkm]

i’m not a fluent in korean by any means but i do love to learn about languages (korean being one of them) and the way a lot of jikookers have morphed the meaning of the ramyeon thing drives me a little nuts lol. yes, jikook have oddly charged moments where they seem to say one thing but mean another but the ramyeon thing is just honestly not one of those imo. first, the ramyeon euphemism in korea is meant to be used in the form of a “do you want to go back to my place?” line with the full expression translating into “do you want to eat ramyeon at my place?” another similar euphemism that i often see misinterpreted is the “do you want to see my cat?” line. koreans do not use the cat/kitty/p***y slang so the euphemism is not intended to mean “do you want to see my [redacted]?” its meant to be interpreted as “lets go back to my place where we would end up having sex”.

the same way the word “cat” is not meant to be interpreted as p***y, the word “ramyeon” itself is not code for sex.

second, just bc a word can be used as a sexual innuendo in certain languages does not mean it should be suspected of being an innuendo most of the time. in many latin american countries the word concha, which translates literally to seashell, is used as slang for p***y. concha is also a popular pastry in some latin american countries. assuming that someone saying “do you wanna eat a concha?” would be a sexual innuendo (modt of the time lol) would be quite far fetched and silly.

there’s other great things to highlight about that interaction of theirs (mainly the way jimin teases jk about his diet in a flirty way) without having to over analyze and add context that is unlikely. bc why would they be implying that with all of their staff AND th around?

I do get your idea, but every translator (even google) through the years has defined it as a slang for sex. A equivalent for Netflix and chill and I don't think there's anything dramatic about it.

Jikook have a history of using double meanings and playing with innuendos just because they feel like it (this also gives them leverage when doing it in front of staff and cameras cause it's just jokes at the end of the day right, who's gonna suspect anything)

This is why I didn't talk about it at length originally, because this situation doesn't make or break jikook. To me is just just yet another funny detail that happened during the episode. We're bound to talk about everything AYS during this period and I don't think ppl are blowing it out of proportions or smth. Just my two cents.

[theprincelyking]

TADC Headcanons (Mostly about their memories)

I’ve been thinking of headcounts for the circus. Just tiny parts of their lives that shine through in one form or another. If you want me to expand more on the specifics, let me know.

I think subconsciously they do retain some vague glimmer of their memories, which contributes to their personalities. And that small things can trigger something primal and unknown within them, for example:

…

Pom: “Ugh, we really are gonna be stuck here forever.” Jax: “Glad you managed to figure that out toots! After all, you gotta get used to the next how many years we’re gonna be in here.” Pom: “I’m gonna be old enough to be someone’s grandma.”

She looked over to see Jax’s eyes welling with tears, that threatened to spill out

Pom: “Ahh! Are you okay? Did I upset you?” Jax: “Ugh, right. Fair warning. Random words can set us off. For some reason, my body starts bugging out everytime I hear the word, "grandma". Tried to get Caine to fix it, but no luck.” . . .

But it can also be wholesome I betcha …

Ragatha was sitting at the table bored. Seemingly unimpressed with her plate of digital food

Pom: “…Are…Are you going to eat that?”

She slides it over to Pomni and she gingerly eats it

Pom: “Uhh…This place sure has…well food.” Rag: “Yeah. Nothing too interesting.” Pom: “True. I wish they had something more diverse…Like something seasoned, or something like desert. Ohh, I could really go for some beans.”

She smiles warmly at that

Rag: “I don’t know why, but everytime I hear the word "beans’" I feel weirdly happy. It’s almost nostalgic.” Pom: “Do you like beans?” Rag: “I don’t know. But I like that word a lot.” . . .

And some can be just plain weird …

Zooble was walking back to their room while Pomni followed

Pom: “So…What’s it like having…A body like that?” Zoo: “Hard to keep track of when your roommate keeps using your hand as a back scratcher. Also walking was a NIGHTMARE when I first got here.” Pom: “I can only imagine. It looks like a lot.” Zoo: “Yeah. It’s so annoying.”

Pomni nodded

Pom: “Well, maybe we could do something to get away from the others.” Zoo: “Not interested.” Pom: “Oh, that’s okay. Uhh, I guess I just wanted to forget about the whole…In a video game thing.” Zoo: “sigh I know it’s hard. But I’m not really the person you wanna hang out with.” Pom: “I’m sure your not a drag or anything. Ehh…I guess if you need me, I’ll be outside the tent. I think I saw a bunch of weird stuff outside. Balls, Board games. I think I even saw a pair of skates-”

Zooble immediately bursted out with laughter, almost falling to the floor, beating their mismatched feet on the ground as they wheezed hard at the word

Zooble: [censored] [censored] [censored]- Oh [censored], don’t say that word around me. It drives me nuts.” Pom: “Huh? Skates?” Zoo: WHEEZE . . .

And some are just…Completely out of left field … Pom: “Marco!” Rag: “Polo!”

They were in the digital lake, going on another one of Caine’s adventures. Thankfully today was rather simple. A pool party in the digital lake. Nothing more.

Pom: “Marco!” Jax: “Polo.”

Jax was using a giant rubber ducky to swim away from her immediately after that

Rag: “Hey! That’s not fair!” Jax: “Oh please, she’ll be fine.” Pom: “Marco!” Gang: “…Help?”

Pomni unblindfolded herself and could see Gangle, sort of stuck to the surface of the water…It didn’t seem like she could move. Pomni picked her up and she wrapped herself around her head, sort of creating a cute little bow on her head

Gang: “Oh that’s better, so cold…” Rag: “I was wondering where she was.” Jax: “I wasn’t.”

Pomni akwardly patted her mask and put back on the blindfold. She drifted in the water a bit before yelling out again

Pomni: “Marco!” Kinger: “I’ll have the Neapolitan cappuccino, More Cappa than Chino. Make sure it's got no more than 4oz of milk, The beans won't have the right texture otherwise-“

He explained in disturbing detail a very lengthy coffee order, which completely stopped the game.

Pom: “…Okay, maybe we should take a break.” Zoo: “I agree, especially since Jax is using my FACE AS A F[censored]G FOOTREST!”

Looks like Zooble also came apart in the water. And was not happy about it.

Rag: “I got your arm!” King: “…Oh!”

He paddles over with their torso, using it as a board to propel himself across

King: “Here you go!” Zoo: “…Gee. Thanks.”

They sneered a bit

[https-evan2]

grover requests huh? I gotchu! here's two ideas for grover, you dont have to do both, or any. but since you were asking for requests; 1. Grover x Child of Demeter!reader. (next one is more detailed :)) 2. Grover x reader who isn't too fond of nature, scared of it, even. Grover tries telling reader about how lovely it is, and tries to get them... more comfortable in outside environments <3 hope u have a lovely day!! stay nuts and berries!! (the titans curse reference...)

I’m going to go with the second one but might do the first one later because i love ‘em both

no pronouns gor reader + no description of appearance (my fics are for everyone)

warnings: poor grammar and misuse of punctuation. Excuse me if grover is ooc!

requests are OPEN

You tried to keep your cool every time you went out with Grover but no matter how hard you tried you just could never seem to get over your fear of the wild. It terrified you just the fact that you didn’t know when or if something was going to jump up from bushes or if you’d be stepping on ground wasp nest.

You managed to avoid forests for most of your life still going outdoors just in the more open parts. But now it’s near impossible because you just so happen to be dating the lord of the wild, Grover.

You love him so much but he never realised how someone could fear nature and all its critters.

You tried spending most of your dates in your cabin or around camp but Grover was a bit bored of it.

He loves you so much so he wouldn’t even say anything at first but later when he got selected for the role of lord of the wild he realised just how much time that he couldn’t spend with you because of your fear.

He tried talking to you snd trying yk get over your fear for the entire time of your relationship but now he felt it was extra important.

One evening he tried to show you how beautiful nature could be instead of explaining.

.

.

“Grover i don’t like this…” you stammered as you were clinging onto him as if your life depended on it. With every move you jumped closer to him and you couldn’t bear to leave his side as you were shaking in his arms.

“Sweetie it’s fine, everything is completely okay” he reaffirmed as he rubbed your back tracing circles around your skin. He sat down and picked up a pretty big bug.

”look! It’s a praying mantis! This little guy has given everything hes got to the ecosystem without even knowing it! Isn’t that amazing that this small critter can help maintain all this” Grover exclaimed obviously passionate about the wildlife

“P-put it back on the ground please its legs freak me out”

You, still being absolutely terrified tried to not step on the bug he just showed you know it would decrease the chances of marriage by 50% and maybe a break up.

“T-that flower is pretty” you stutter pointing at a wild pansy. You might find nature terrifying but you had to admit thst it could be beautiful.

“And so is everything here you just got to look for it” after Grover made that statement he took your hand and you started walking around just looking for the smaller stuff as Grover pointed out some of them snd facts about them. You loved seeing Grover really get into a subject that he’s passionate about. He could easily be pushed aside at camp but when it was just you and him he felt like he wouldn’t be in the shadow.

“hey Grover, are these safe to eat?” You point at a bush of lingonberries.

“yeah there should be a bunch of edible stuff around here i like to go here when I’m hungry before dinner”

“Grover, you’re always hungry”

With that you both began picking berries and other edible goodies. When you were done you ate them together as you looked for animals around.

Safe to say nature wasn’t as bad as you thought

[lafiametta]

Im so glad im not the only one still stuck on anora x igor😭😭 love them sm

As for a 1 word prompt i think hug could result in something sweet or even unexpected, but i could also leave a word-vomit here and maybe you’ll feel inspired by one of them:)) so let me just

ride, dinner, dance, call, sweatpants, beach, couch, deli

Haha, thank you for all the prompts! I’m going with the first one, but I may come back to some of the others because they’re so good! :)

She wakes a little before two and shuffles into the kitchen. It’s quiet, so Vera must be out somewhere. There’s a quarter of the Honey Nut Cheerios left, which she eats while absently scrolling through TikTok. None of it’s particularly interesting, so she flips over to her texts. There’s one from Vera (“went 2 nico’s. get more tp at the store thx”) and a string of messages from Lulu, detailing some kind of crazy shit that went down last night involving two of their new dancers, a stolen g-string, hair-pulling, and a broken bottle of Cristal.

The last one, sent an hour ago from a contact she put into her phone as Hunchback Weirdo, is in all-caps, as if he didn’t fully trust himself with punctuation.

COME BY AT 3 OK?

She holds down the text and sends a thumbs-up reaction. He’s been coming by her house every Sunday at three for the last month and a half and he doesn’t really need to text each time, but she knows he likes to check with her to make sure it’s alright.

They don’t ever stay at the house that long—normally she just grabs her jacket and meets him on the porch, then they head in the direction of the beach. It’s only a few blocks to the boardwalk, a wide expanse that somehow feels just big enough for the two of them to walk side-by-side. It was awkward at first—neither of them really knew what to say after everything that had happened in his grandmother’s car—but after a while the quiet grew easier, and they learned how to talk in ways that seemed safe. He talks about his grandmother a lot, and about growing up in Russia. Ani’s childhood stories are far less heart-warming, so she avoids them, instead detailing all the things Vera—or Vera’s shitty boyfriend—had done to piss her off that week, along with anything fun or outrageous that had happened at work. She’s got a job at a new club now, secured through a glowing reference from Jimmy, and like any place full of drunk men and insecure women, there’s always drama.

They don’t ever talk about what happened in the car.

She thinks about it sometimes, the memory pulling deep and hard in her chest, a strange mixture of shame and sadness and gratitude that she doesn’t know where to put. Being around him makes it a little easier, which is why when he comes by she always goes with him, despite how fucking strange the whole thing really is.

A minute after three there’s a knock at the door—Ani’s already in her jacket, fingers flipping back the deadbolt.

It’s warmer out today, a tiny promise of spring, but the wind is brisk and tugging against her hair and cheeks, and she sinks deeper into the bulk of her jacket. Igor’s only in a black hoodie; she doesn’t ask him if he’s cold.

Along the boardwalk, there are older men in rumpled suits and women in headscarves sitting together on benches. A kid runs along the beach, trying to get a kite to lift into the air. For a moment, they’re walking close enough that their fingers brush together and Ani quickly stuffs her hands into her pockets, doing her best to ignore the unsteady feeling in her stomach.

By the time they get down to Coney Island the feeling has subsided enough that she lets him buy her a pretzel, which she eats piece by piece against the metal railing overlooking the beach while he smokes.

She’s already told him about Nico, how he had clogged their toilet two days ago and then fucked everything up more by continuing to flush, the whole thing overflowing and ruining their bathmat.

“Fuckin’ idiot,” she mutters. “I can’t believe my sister lets him fuck her.”

She laughs a little, although it’s mostly a sigh, and then lets the silence settle around them as they stare out at the mostly empty beach. He hasn’t finished the cigarette yet, so she reaches out for a quick drag.

“So how’s Garnik doing?” she asks as she hands it back, not realizing until she asked that part of her was actually curious. She wasn’t surprised he hadn’t mentioned Vanya or the Zakharovs at all, but it seemed a little weird he never said anything about the two Armenians, who he probably still saw all the time.

“Garnik?”

“Yeah, Garnik. His face still look like a fuckin’ raccoon?”

Igor shrugs, then drops the cigarette butt to the ground and stomps it out with the toe of his sneaker. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know how your boss’s face looks?”

There’s a tiny shake of his head, and he turns to lean back against the railing. “I don’t work for him. For any of them.”

The words cut through her more strongly than the wind, leaving only questions in their wake.

“Since when?” she asks.

He turns his face to finally look at her, those blue eyes trained on hers in a way that always felt like she was something worth looking at. She had hated it at first—the intensity behind it—but now she’s wondering what it was really trying to convey.

“Since we come back from Vegas.”

For a moment she’s uncharacteristically speechless. He hadn’t worked for them since Vegas? He had quit his job—for what? For her? No, that made no sense. What was she to him? She had been a problem he had been sent to fix, a rock in someone else’s shoe, and then she had fucked him and cried all over him and run away. And now? She still has no fucking clue what they are. But she had thought she had been left alone to handle all of it, and he’s telling her that she’s not alone, that he walked away to meet her on the other side. And he’s here, with her, knocking on her front door every Sunday, trading stupid stories with her as they follow the path along the beach, looking after her in a way she hadn’t really understood until this moment.

He’s standing here, next to her, the March wind whipping against the fabric of his hoodie.

Ani steps closer until she’s right in front of him, her arms reaching out to tightly curl around his back. She remembers the feel of him, the warmth, and leans in, her cheek pressing up against the top of his shoulder. There’s a moment of hesitation—she hopes it’s only out of surprise—and then his arms wrap solidly around her, drawing her into the hug.

“Hi,” he says, the sound soft, like laughter.

“Hey,” she says, like she’s saying it for the first time.

[send me a one-word Anora x Igor prompt]

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

Introspection

Summary: Moon Knight Comic universe. A study of the Interpersonal relationships between Marc, Jake, Steven, Mr. Knight, and Moon Knight.

They don't always get along. Sometimes they have no choice but to hold things together while one of them seems determined to take them apart.

Pairings: Gen fic, Brief mentions of Greer and Marc.

Warnings: Dissociation

Word Count: 4715

A personal note: I started this as something else and then had a small mental health event and continued to work on this. So it didn't go where I had planned on going. But here it is for whatever it's worth. I hope it's worth something.

----

MARC

Sometimes I remember life one way and sometimes I remember it another. It’s hard to pin it all down. If you asked me what I did this morning I’d be hard pressed to tell you the fine details but I can guess the usual. 

Each awakening starts the same. I listen to just about every joint in my body pop and creak as I crawl out of bed and wait for sensation to return to my body. I imagine it much like watching someone claw their way out of a shallow grave. When I am sure that the body is mine, I chug the coffee that by now must be two days old and reheated so many times the burnt smell only makes me think it’s stronger than it is. 

It does nothing for my headache but at least the double vision blurs into one and I can do more than make further zombie sounds. This does little for the popular notion that I am a dead man that has returned from the grave so many times that I sometimes catch myself glancing in the mirror at the symbole on my forehead. Is it still a moon? Am I sure? Is it the crest of a god or the word of another? Perhaps it is the truth. 

I try not to think about it if I don’t want to spend the next hour fading in and out of that dangerous void. 

Today is a bad day. I can’t stay out of the past. It happens. The past is a long dark tunnel or a glimpse of a street light I once stood too long under. 

I can feel the annoyance as I fade and cling at the same time. He calls me a pain as I dig my heels in. I’ve been told that I have a nasty tendency to dig my grubby mitts in so hard that it takes a considerable fight to knock me out of place. He says I have control issues. 

I don’t do it on purpose. I frankly wouldn’t know how to stay if I wanted to. I tend to come and go like a nasty habit you just can’t get rid of. Every time you think you’ve kicked it, it comes crawling back. 

Sure, I can give it up for them when we talk. When we talk. I remember the silence. Confusion and blanks written off with a shrug. Then I remember the yelling. There used to be so much yelling. Like siblings yelling from one room to the other over a barrier of invisible walls and doors that rattled on old hinges. 

We don’t yell anymore. Mostly. He calls me short sighted. The other one calls me a Schlimazel. He thinks he’s funny. I snapped and called him a Meshuggeneh once and he laughed about it for two weeks straight. He takes a special delight when I speak in that tongue. 

I think there is a popular opinion that we act like a big family full of love. Just a bunch of brothers that look out for one another. Bullshit. We are not brothers. Brothers in our situation would have probably killed each other years ago. The truth is that we are three grown men all trying to drive the same car and decide on where it’s going all at the same time. 

Sometimes we want to go to the living room and end up on the fucking roof. And it’s always anyone’s guess on how we got up there. When was the last time we ate? Did the other one go nuts on eggs again or did I have the reins and forget to eat for three days because I’m an idiot? It’s anyone’s guess. 

It has taken us a very very long time to figure out how to function. How to work as a team. How to care about one another. We certainly didn’t come into this wanting to help the other guy stop crying. It was just annoying listening to him cry all the time. We wanted him to stop. I wanted him to stop. I wanted to stop. He wanted me to stop. We were just kids. Just kids learning to share and… 

Here I go again, floating into the void and I think we’ve been staring at the same spot on the wall for ten minutes. He’s fucking yelling at me to get my shit together. 

I know what would really piss him off. I don’t want to piss him off. But I do. I piss him off by existing sometimes. He used to wish I would go away. He could put up with the other one but me? I was unacceptable. I used to wish I would go away too. I hated how much I was present. Always there. Always waiting to be angry. Waiting to punch something. Waiting to find a reason. 

They both tell me I need to stop. I needed to learn how to exist. I existed enough. It’s how we got into this mess. I existed. My name was put on a paper: Here Elias begat Marc and all the trouble that came with. 

I’m the trauma. I’m the reason. I’m the one that ran. I’m the one that made the decisions. I’m the one that lost… 

Now here’s the territory that he won’t let me near. Says I get too close and hurt myself too much. As if I can’t help but shout out “Here I am”. 

And as I sit and stare into the fire of my trauma, he finally pulls me and it feels like a relief as even the body lets out a sigh. 

STEVEN

It takes a minute. It doesn’t always. When he cooperates it’s like lightning. That’s the problem though, isn’t it? Marc Spector cooperating? The very notion of it makes me smile. 

Like the notion that Marc might actually take the moment to be more aware. I’d laugh if I wasn’t so pissed off. 

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not pissed at him. Not really. It’s hard to be pissed at him these days. Back at the start, though? All you had to do was imply his presence and I was pissed at the man. 

I think he still strives for that. He wants us to be angry at him. Give the man a stick and find him in the woods poking a bear for kicks. 

I’m pissed because I have to do this. I’m pissed because this is something that we still have to do. What brought it about this time? That’s always the part I hate the most. Trying to figure out why Marc had to be pulled. 

We know our places now. It wasn’t easy to figure out. There was a certain level of trust we had to reach to figure it out. When Marc was needed, we knew it was going to hurt. We hardly ever asked for his help. It was pride not to. 

Me? Needing his help? When I could just avoid the situation all together, why would I need his help? 

My denial was deep enough to drown us. My pride, the anchor that brought us down. 

Marc thinks I’d have been the perfect son. I was better. I was the one you introduced to your friends. And in this corner you see Steven Grant, poised and perfect. Just don’t ask him where his family is from. A nod and a wink and we can pretend he’s something else, right? 

Marc forgets how outright obnoxious I used to be. Forget the bruised knees and black eye. That was someone else. My creases were all pressed and my shirts were the whitest. “Yes teacher or course teacher right away teacher”. With grades and posture, I could look down my nose at the world. 

So why wasn’t I the perfect son? Because that was someone else. The real mensch. Yeah, he came a little late, but that’s the nature of him, isn’t it? While Marc and I circled the drain, he sat back with the plug yucking it up with the locals. He doesn’t know our trauma. Our pain. He shifts in and out like it’s nothing. That’s his job. 

Now I’m beyond annoyed. That spot on the wall still hasn’t moved and I’m stuck playing put the lid back on everything Marc opened up. 

I don’t tell him. He has enough to beat himself up over. I don’t tell him how it all carries over. I don’t tell him how his tears sting a little bit more when I’m the one shedding them. I don’t tell him that my hands shake just a little bit as I flush out our wounds. 

There’s a new bruise and I swear it lines up with someone’s fist perfectly. The night was long and now here we sit with ice and a fog that I can’t make go away. Images of our father float in and out and I hear something that I don’t know the words to. 

The fact that Marc does makes me angry. Angry at myself. 

Marc will never know how much he reminds me of our father. Not because he is like the man. No, they couldn’t be further from night and day. But Marc, full of vengeance and fire and bloody fists… No one worships like he does. Only our father, a Rabbi, could have more faith. 

I’d never tell him this, though. He wouldn’t understand. 

The wounds are clean and the bandages applied. My job is done and there is still so much more work to do. I do what I can. It’s not enough. It’s never enough. 

The mensch wants to know what’s going on. He doesn’t pay attention. He doesn’t have to. It’s my turn to be the stubborn ass and it isn’t till I feel the warm comfort of his embrace that I realize there’s more needed than a desperate need to make amends. 

JAKE

Bubbeleh, take a rest, eh? 

What’s going on up here? Why are we so worked up? I step out for a second and look at this mess. Stomach sounds like a grinder and I feel like we did ten rounds with that gorilla at the zoo. 

Steven makes a jab at my choice in food. What part of our life has been Kosher? Why start now? I think we’ll be forgiven if we break a few rules. Ah, there’s the issue, isn’t it? 

Memories. 

I can sit back and watch them. They play like an old flickering television with a bent antenna. 

No guess on who let these out of the box. He sulks in the back and I can feel his pain radiating across the whole void. 

Marc… If it was ever possible for someone to embody the word Schlep it would be Marc. I sit back quietly for a bit, letting the food soothe the body first. That quiets Steven down. Always worried about the body. The body relaxes and so does Steven. 

Steven settled, now comes the hard part. 

I do remember. I see the boy struggling and I see the other one rebelling in his own way. I remember stepping in more times than they know. I remember what it was to wrap ourselves in a large warm blanket and cry ourselves to sleep. 

The mustache goes on. Steven hates it. Hates what the adhesive does to our skin. I tell him to grow it out naturally; but then you’d have two problems instead of one. I’m a problem fixer. My problem can be fixed with adhesive and a hat.  

I pull my sweater closer and adjust my hat. Marc would riot if I wore the other hat. It was easier to dip into older traditions. It feels right. It feels like it holds us down and gives me the silhouette I know is right. 

Steven thinks I don’t know. I know more than he does sometimes. I never settled on denial. I just settled on acceptance. 

I whisper the right words. The ones that finish the song Steven forgot. They say there is a prayer for everything. Meditate on it long enough and there is a blessing for every situation. 

Sometimes a simple blessing is one that simply soothes the soul. It doesn’t have to make sense or even be appropriate. Just a notion that you do belong and that the good you do is truth enough to exist. 

“May it be your will that I lie down in peace and rise up in peace.” It isn’t the whole prayer. I don’t even remember the whole thing, but the whole thing isn’t what is needed now. Words are like that. Like a lullabye or a magic spell, we settle in peace. We know the truth to those words. 

And we do rise. We always rise up, but never in peace. But for now… At least we can lie down in a sort of peace. 

Cat naps, really. I close our eyes in the reclined seat of the cab as the sounds of the city soothe us into a slumber that keeps the dreams away. 

A yawn and a blinker later, we tour the city. This is my peace. Chit chat with the locals, a tip here and there from the underground. I smile to the fare and impart knowledge on the tourists. We were all dazzled by the city at one point or another. 

By the time my tour is over, we feel rested and refreshed. As much as is capable for us to feel anyways. I think if we ever really did rest we might not ever get back up again. 

Steven is quiet and back in place where he can pretend that maybe this time Marc might behave. I wish I lived in that bloke’s world. At least I know he won’t spiral for a bit. He likes to at least space out his breakdowns a bit. Adds flavor for when they really do build up. 

And a look up at the rising night sky assures me that Marc is also quiet, resting and pretending that he won’t be needed again. I don’t know how to tell him that he’ll always be needed. That he’s wanted. That I wouldn’t trust anyone else to watch my back. 

But now another bloke is stirring and asking questions. 

Yeah buddy, we got this. Just a hiccup or two. The usual. 

He relaxes and I let him stretch. He’s the shy one of the group, which is ironic considering just how flashy he is. 

You want denial, just ask him who lives under that mask. 

I relax back. He does better when we aren’t watching. Maybe someday he’ll feel confident enough to etch out his own place. It’s really enough to make me want to come up with a new prayer just for him. I was never a wordsmith though. Blessings were more of Marc’s territory anyways. 

MOON KNIGHT 

He gives us the information we need. He asks if we want to know about the day. We don’t. We appreciate the offer. He has a lot to share, but these things don’t mean anything to us. He has a lot of strength to offer and we appreciate him for it… But sometimes we enjoy just sitting in silence as we feel the moon and city and justice. 

We don’t know what we did today. We don’t know how the body is doing. We don’t know how they are doing. That isn’t really our business. Our business is up here under the sky under the mask. We can feel the bandages and know the fussy one has taken care of us. We feel energy and relaxed and know the chatty one has done his part. We also feel the anger and need to punch something and know our companion is ready. 

He isn’t always there. Sometimes it’s just me and I feel like a ghost, sliding through the moonbeams and haunting the streets. I don’t know how I feel about these times. 

Our companion helps us. We help him. He pretends to be us and we let him. He can pretend that he doesn’t exist and we are blended until his needs are ours and our actions are his. 

Sometimes he bleeds through. Sometimes the mask becomes heavy on his skin and we have to assert ourselves. We act on behalf of the system. We act because it’s what he needs. When his needs hurt, we let the others take him away. 

We aren’t sure when we became me. When I became individual. We prefer him to be there. We remember a time when we were one. Now we aren’t sure who or what we are. The fussy one prods at us sometimes. Questions us and tries to find out what we know. He asks us a lot of questions. Right now he dismisses us as essential to our companion and lets it go. The chatty one spends a lot of time trying to talk with us. He does not care for the mask and often sits back and just talks. I think he thinks we are a good way to see how our Companion is doing. 

Our companion sometimes resents us. We are the job. We are the work. We are the way for him to let off steam. We are the action to what needs to be done. 

But we are only here when the sky is dark and when justice is needed. When we slip away, it is just him and that is when the mask becomes too heavy. 

That is when we aren’t sure…  There is another we. 

Mr. Knight

I am not Marc Spector. This much I know. Marc doesn’t know this. It’s a recent development. Steven calls it ‘failure to trauma process’. Marc hides behind us. It is difficult to know when he is he and I am me. He is the man under the mask that does not wish to be there. I am the mask. 

The problem was that he would not take off the mask. We became new. 

I’m not sure what I think of things. Only Marc wears the mask. Jake doesn’t care to wear us. Our style doesn’t really match his, but he’s still supportive. Steven was exasperated by us at first but now he finds a useful transfer of information through us. The actual Knight? We’re a team. Sometimes we talk. Perhaps we have the most in common. We have jobs. Our job? We protect Marc. 

The Knight is difficult to speak with sometimes. He’s a bright white light in the dark and sometimes formless. I honestly can’t tell if he is one person or many pretending to be one. Maybe he’s all of us? Maybe I’m really just Marc pretending to be someone else. 

Steven tells me I’m too self aware for that. I asked Steven about the Knight once and Steven didn’t have an answer. 

Sometimes I am Marc. When his blood boils and he walks the street in search of something to hit I very much am Marc. I’m a thin shield over him, much like gauze over a wound. I don’t have fists. I am just the gloves that soak up the grime. 

I become myself when Marc checks out. He still loses time. He won’t admit it. Staring at the far wall while he sits in his chair or waters his plants. My plants. We keep things tidy. Perhaps that is why Steven likes us. 

I keep up appearances. How would it look to find ‘Mr. Knight’ standing in the corner staring at the dust on the leaves for the past twenty minutes? 

I think the others notice. The vampire? She knows. Once she met Steven she caught on real quick. Jake and Steven? Easy. Those two idiots couldn’t ever pretend to be someone else. They fought too long and hard to be independent. She isn’t sure about the Knight. It’s hard to tell with him. Perhaps she sees him as something else completely. Maybe he is. 

Me? She watches me carefully. Jake calls me ‘auto pilot’. When Marc goes ‘space case’ someone has to drive. I think the vampire avoids me when she doesn’t sense Marc there. Maybe I am an auto pilot. A way for him to watch the world without having to take off the mask. I’m okay with that.

The Tiger has noticed me but doesn’t say anything. She’s more familiar with Steven and Jake. Jake chats up anyone and everyone. Steven likes communication. Any way for him to ‘settle the system’ he takes it. The moment the Tiger officially became a part of the picture, Steven and Jake got involved. They like her. She is on edge around the Knight. Perhaps she senses something different about them. It’s hard not to. With me? She asks me to step back. She got Marc to take the mask off the other day. It was nice to step back. I’m not sure what will happen to me if Marc stops wearing the mask all the time. Maybe we become ‘Just Marc’ again. 

 I’m here as long as he needs me. 

Right now he needs me. We’re having a rough day. I say we because when Marc has a bad day, we ALL have a bad day. 

Marc is having a panic attack. 

His mask is off and he has locked himself in his room. The first line of defense steps up. 

We can all feel him assess the body. Marc digs in hard. In his worst moments it would take an act of sheer force to pry the body away from him. 

Steven is cool and collected as he looks the situation over. He talks to Marc and we all watch. It gets crowded up in the front during these times and Jake hangs back. He likes to show his support but also make sure no one else gets in the way. 

We had an incident a month back where we all tried to have opinions. Talk about loud chaos. 

Marc starts to yell and Steven shakes his head, not wanting to force it but not wanting to let it continue. 

The Knight simply watches, formless and bright. They don’t understand these things. They do understand that it can affect how they function though. 

Jake saunters in, hands in pockets as he talks to Marc and Steven. They all have history. 

Marc reaches for me. He wants to hide. I soak up the tears and cover the scars. 

Steven sighs and I can feel his pull as we wordlessly talk. I am auto pilot as Marc fades back and the body carries on. We feel tired. The information travels up the ranks and we all decide what to do with it. 

The Knight shares in his own strange way the memories of a full night. Jake shares memories of a full day. I sit in the chair and watch as the mission moves around us. 

Steven gives orders. Sleep. Short and sweet. 

Convincing Marc to sleep is a chore for the others, but not for me. 

When Marc thinks he is me, I can simply stand and move us to the sarcophagus. Climbing in, Marc settles back and we all feel the body sink in. 

We aren’t perfect, but we are a team. We have to be. 

Tomorrow Marc will wake up again. Tomorrow we will all find our places and tomorrow there might be more of us or less of us. Just gotta roll with the punches. 

Marc

Here we go again. Alarm. Awake. Headache. Confusion. Fight through. 

Fight through. 

Pain and aches and old blood and this deep fog that mutes all light and sound and color and feeling. I live here. I live in the blur. I work best in the blur. 

Muffled and soft. It lets me breathe. In and out. I can’t hear my own pounding blood rushing in my head. I can’t feel the cracks and pops as my legs bend and snap into place to lift this shell. 

I move past the room filled with plants I don’t remember buying. Past the decorations I don’t remember setting up. Hand tracing the ever breathing and changing walls of the living mission. 

I pause. 

“Good morning.” We understand one another. A haunted shell. Walls that hold nothing and too much. 

The walls breathe and I wait. I breathe with them, meditative and peaceful. A moment for me. Only for me. This is how I ground. I connect with the ghost in the walls until I too can inhabit my home. 

Good morning.

Coffee. Chatter. Energy. Noise. Movement. I’ve surrounded myself with movement. I remember a time when my life was non-stop movement. 

Come and go. Through the door as Steven, out the door as Jake, in the sky as Marc and… I try not to think too hard about that part. That time in my life is hard for me to pin down. I wasn’t the one driving most of the time. Then when I was, it was filled with pain. 

Now I’m sitting here and they move around me and I am waiting. The movement has slowed down. When I do go, it isn’t the constant shifting, changing, and rushing that it was. 

It feels… Languid. 

I gaze out the window. It’s a quiet night. I don’t trust the quiet ones. They drift slow and I’m left pacing like a caged tiger. 

“Marc. Sit.” Speaking of caged tiger… She watches me and gestures for me to join her. Calm and peaceful and domestic. 

I hesitate. Domestic was not something I could do. Domestic was his. 

They say cats can sense the switch. Maybe it’s chemical. Maybe it’s just sensing the mood. 

I try not to. I try domestic. I don’t deserve domestic. Domestic and Marc Spector do not belong together. 

It’s just sitting. 

Mr. Domestic chimes in. Of course he would. I stop and she watches. The mask hides the fade. I wonder if she can sense it because her tail starts to twitch. 

I’m grounded. I have no reason to give in. There is no danger. I have no reason to stay. All that stands before me now is the one thing Marc Spector has never been able to handle: Happiness. 

She isn’t gonna be happy if you don’t put your butt in that chair.

The other guy. Mr. Charm. As if he were a professional at making people happy. 

Take off the mask. 

We should patrol. 

Let’s go out and have a drink. 

We need to take a day off. 

The people need to see us. 

I’m so tired.

Needless to say we all have opinions. More than I would think there would be. Some that come softly and others that rock through us like a megaphone to the brain. 

I sit with her. She rolls up the mask just enough to touch the face. Our face. My face. 

Slowly. Like peeling back layers of grime and sand and blood and pain and trauma I let her take the mask away. She places it just in reach of me. As if she knows something I don’t. Something that makes my fingers twitch towards it, longing to touch it. To press it to my heart and keep it safe like a gentle friend. 

I take a breath. Let the air fill my lungs. Let the fog fade. Let the world settle. Let the Me I am becoming fight the Me I have been back and into submissive silence. 

There will be days. Days where that me wins. Days where I do not sit with her. Days where I flinch away and pull the mask back down. Days where the past pierces through me and I am lost again. 

“It’s quiet.” I close my eyes and lean back. 

“Quiet?” She gently curls into me. Warm and soft and heavy at my side. 

“For now.” I relax and feel my foundation shift, letting these old walls settle as they continue to hold it all up. The body sighs and I look at her. Me and him and the other and they and them and us. “Here I am.” 

We rise in peace. 

I let us be at peace. 

[petruchio]

I'm the anon from earlier who wants to be you (and I miiiight also be the anon who wanted to drink wine and eat cheese and talk about the hunger games a while back but hush im shy), idk how to explain it's just. you feel like Pinterest to me. but an actual realistic and still messy one? not curated but still ideal? you seem so sure of yourself, even when you admit you're going nuts over a crush or whatever. cool older sister vibes, I feel like im visiting you wide eyed in your city apartment and playing dressup in your wardrobe. this reads like a love letter. The way you feel about yourself is how I wanna feel all the time.i love you let's have wine please

ANON!! oh gosh. im seriously going to cry. as cheesy as it sounds it really means a lot to me to hear. honestly it really does!! (and to be a living pinterest board?! be still my heart!!!! my actual dream.)

what’s funny is that i am actually a younger sister!! im the youngest of two and actually among my cousins who i grew up with i’m the youngest of FIVE!! but i’ve also always had a lot of friends younger than me who i love to go all “wise professor” on so i can def see how i could give off a big sister vibe ;) i actually love it that i do. and i really do loooove giving advice as we know LOL!

also it would be a lie to say that even i feel like this about myself all the time!! i spoke a little about my mental health ups and downs recently and i won’t get into the details but i definitely had a difficult winter! (and fall and parts of last summer as well if im being honest.) i make a lot of effort to do right by myself when i’m feeling low, but it really is HARD sometimes! but it makes me so happy to know that my recent feelings of joy have been coming through even just on my blog :)

i was taking a yoga class a few weeks ago and the teacher said something that really resonated with me — she said, “you can train your brain to look for love and joy and light in the world. and it’s your brain. you have the power to do that.” now, you can get all woo woo about it (and i love that woo woo stuff, i do; i meditate all the time and i have a crystal on my bedside table for luck and i love flipping tarot cards. (what’s life without a little magic/subconscious belief/superstition. do i believe it’s “real?” not really. but it gives life those little sparkles that make it fun.)) but anyway, the yoga teacher said you don’t even need to approach it from a spiritual or woo woo perspective. in fact, it’s neuroscience: your brain will build fat around the pathways you use the most often. so you can build a practice of looking for love and joy and happiness, your brain will respond, and it will become almost second nature to find the light in your life. of course it’s easier said than done… but it really resonated with me. so that’s all to say it’s been something i’ve really been trying to cultivate in myself and my life lately!! of course it’s not perfect — i still get down on myself a lot. but it’s something i found really lovely to think about.

anyway that was a bit of a ramble i guess. but i just am so touched by your message 🤍 i am genuinely honored that you see me this way. it’s really special and i’m really so grateful that you took the time to write this to me!! it means the world 🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

[abronzeagegod]

Untitled YA Project Chapter 4:

First Chapter || More

7:44 PM local time

Training Barracks, House Kaiyantsh, Si Yátz

Rafe delivered on her breakfast promise. She always had a way of finding the good jukulu nuts and the kershkal berries that were Hira’s favorites. Hira dug into the offered sweet fruits, eagerly breaking through the tough exteriors with her mandibles before eating them with relish.

“Slow down,” Rafe said a little sternly. “Don’t choke yourself. Also put the ice on your face. The jodn will kick my butt if he finds out I injured you during training.”

Hira gave Rafe a flat expression, her antenna straight out and to the side, but she did as she was told.

They ate breakfast pretty quickly, the other squads were coming in from their daytime patrols and settling in for their dinner. Rafe and Hira had to work the very boring and less nighttime shits as they were the youngest, the newest, and in Hira’s case she was alway doing poorly on her shrar tests.

“I know why I’m stuck on this crap detail,” Hira said, “I failed three of my placement tests.”

Rafe let out an amused little chirp. “Did spend any time studying? Just spent all your time reading about the past?”

“Something like that,” Hira muttered, dropping both her gaze and antenna. “But why are you stuck here? You always do great in the physical stuff, and you know all the codes by heart.”

It was a question Hira always wondered about. Rafe was a good shrar, great even. But she was stuck with Hira in this dead end post in a dead end time.

Rafe looked away from Hira, showing similar signs of shame that Hira just displayed a moment earlier. “I’ll tell you later. Maybe if you beat me in the flying drills tonight.”

Hira immediately grew suspicious, her eyes narrowed, antenna stretched out towards her comrade, trying to sense any kind of lying. There might be some subtle vibrations or movements that she was desperate to detect. “Are you lying to me?”

“Maybe. So what if I am?” Rafe asked back, clearly trying to contain her sense of joy at teasing Hira.

“You’re just trying to taunt me with a mystery, trying to get me to do more work in the drills.”

“And if I’m not?”

“Our House isn’t that big, I would have heard if it was something good.”

“Kaiyantsh is a House that has almost fifty thousand members. Our zone is big enough to support four different preparatory schools. If I remember correctly, we never attended the same school, so you don’t know what mischief I got up to before I knew you,” Rafe countered.

Hira buzzed in disappointment. Because she did want to know, and badly, so that meant that she would do anything to solve that mystery. Even if it meant doing well in an extra drill after work. Rafe knew that she had Hira caught in her perfect little trap.

“Eat your jukulu.”

Their breakfast went by quickly, which disappointed Hira because that meant work was to start soon. The two went to their separate, small rooms to change and get ready for their nightly patrols.

The dark green and maroon colors weren’t Hira’s preferences for color, but they were the House colors. The crest was sewn into the back, which was that of a scepter and a zhisht, the specific flower that the House was responsible for cultivating, crossed over a concentric circle pattern. The clothing had long slits along the sides and back for Hira to put her arms and wings through, so that the garment went over her head and hung on her shoulders, leaving it somewhat loose and flowing. House Kaiyantsh protocol held that every shrar had to tie the clothing once on, with a small regulation belt. Hira always had trouble finding the right hold for her arms and wings on the first try. It was a constant struggle and she felt that she would never learn how to do it right the first time.

She put on her uniform pants, making sure to get her stinger through the hole before tying up the pants this time. Finally came the standard issue boots, which always felt a little too heavy for Hira. One day she knew they were going to mess with her balance while flying.

Despite all of her difficulties with the uniform, Hira was ontime to meet with Rafe so that they could go to their meeting with the jodn and get their orders for the evening.

Their jodn, their commanding officer, was a stout man. He was also a shrar, like the two of them, and was only of average height, just under five feet tall. A brusque, older zlilfian, he was of very little patience.

“Dralf Natúdrafe,” he said loudly when the two presented themselves to him for their nightly orders. The other two zlilfian squads lining up behind them. “How was shrar Hiraksyua this evening in training?”

Rafe settled into a perfect ready position in front of her superior officer, something Hira was always trying to mimic. “She did well, sir. Pinned me once in training.”

“That’s good news! Maybe you’ll pass your next assessment,” the jodn exclaimed loudly, making Hira’s antenna twitch. “Now, your orders are to patrol area AN-1, along the coast. Do the standard patrol routes on your way to the coastal wall, then I want inspection pattern C, followed by a non-standard route back to the HQ by the end of the night. We have ha reports that some of the plants have gotten particularly hostile and one took a small chunk out of one of the adths this morning as they were harvesting what was likely your breakfast. You are to assess and deal with as appropriate. Do you understand shrar?”

“Yes sir!” the two young women called out.

Hira felt a little sick to her stomach now that she knew that one of the gatherers had been injured in their collection duties.

“Good! I expect you to return here and give me a full status report in six hours! Grab your gear and head out! Dismissed!” the jodn yelled.

Hira and Rafe immediately turned to go off and complete their orders.

They grabbed their weapons supplied by the House. Two dlondzhii, which were wooden batons that were strapped to each forearm, and could be extended or retracted with a quick hand movement. Hira always thought about how zlilfians with their three fingers and one thumb, didn’t have the exceptional grip strength that humans did so they had to develop different methods and weapons. While humans made guns and swords and all sorts of other things, zlilfians made these batons to attach to their arms, and not have to worry about being so easily disarmed, and leaving their hands free for other tasks.

After one quick inspection by the jodn, they were off on their patrol.

Rafe always made sure that they were the first two out on their tasks, as it was the easiest way to impress their jodn and make sure they were considered for getting off the late posting.

The patrol was long and boring. This wasn’t the first time the pair had been sent on this particular route to the sea wall that surrounded the island. Their House and it’s territory was in the farthest northwest part of Si Yátz. 

The patrol route took them almost three hours to reach the sea wall. It was a 40 foot wall of volcanic rock that dropped almost straight down to the sea. A perfect natural defense of their island.

And as always Hira paused to just look out over the dark and beautiful water.

Rafe was always respectful of Hira’s little moments of solitude looking out at the ocean.

“It’s very pretty tonight, with the full moon and all,” Rafe said quietly. She didn’t want to ruin the moment with her voice, but at the same time she couldn’t not say anything. “But we do need to get moving, especially if we have to deal with some zlilfian eating plants on the way back.”

“Yeah,” Hira said with a sigh as she finally tore herself away from the view.

Rafe led the way back into the dense zlilfian jungle on the route designated by the jodn.

“So what is so interesting about this part of history that you’re reading about now?” Rafe asked quietly, trying to pass the time with small talk.

“Well the Spanish were the first to really find this part of the so-called New World,” Hira started, because once she started she always found it so hard to stop.

Rafe let out a small laugh at the concept of the two continents of the western hemisphere being called “new” when the zlilfians were here for at least 3,000 years before the humans of Spain found it. And even then there were the hundreds of different tribes of humans that already lived here.

“And they made contact with several other islands and parts of what are now the United States and Venezuela. Then they started exploring, going wherever they wanted. And you know that no humans are allowed on the island, especially back then.”

“Let me guess…”

“Yup. That, and they heard some rumors about a city made of gold. And there’s this island, full of zlilfians, who they see as strange devil creatures with our gold patterns, so clearly we must have a city made of gold.”

“I’ll never understand humans,” Rafe commented. “Least of all the Spanish.”

“Can you even imagine how cold a city made of gold would be?” Hira shivered at the thought of sleeping in a city made of metal and gold.

“And gold is not a hard metal, it’s soft isn’t it?”

“It is. And I’m just about to start that conflict which I hope will inform me about why there is so much ill will between our people and the Spanish. Like why did we just… leave the Spanish alone to do whatever they want in Cuba and other islands and Florida. Ugh, the whole Florida thing makes me so made. And-”

Before Hira could continue, Rafe cut her off with a sharp hand movement.

In an instant they both crouched down and moved slightly apart. Huddled in the underbrush of some very large plants that had been very specifically installed by the ancient zlilfians when they came to this island, the pair waited and watched.

After a moment, Hira saw what Rafe had seen first. What looked to be a deer. At least all Hira could see of the animal were the thick antlers.

“It’s just a deer,” HIra said, but Rafe shushed her with a motion and then pointed back at the animal.

She looked again, and when she noticed what was going on she was repulsed.

The antlers slowly fell to the ground with a sickening shluck, as the tendrils of the choon plant dropped the bones and cartilage of the consumed deer to the ground. It was an unpleasant sound and an even more unpleasant fate.

The choon plant created some delicious sweet fruits, but the defenses for the fruits was a carnivorous pod and tendrils that could easily capture and consume an unwary zlilfiant, or in this case, one of their domesticated deer.

Luckily for Rafe and Hira, this choon wasn’t very big, little more than a few years old. But it was still a danger. It had already consumed one of the deer that lived in the area, and it almost killed a zlilfian working the jungle this afternoon. This plant would have no problem eating a pair of young zlilfians on patrol.

In a stroke of luck for the two, the choon had likely just consumed the deer, so it wouldn’t be immediately ready for another meal, needing at least a day or two for the sack that consumed the meat to digest it and refill with the necessary enzymes.

Rafe used a series of quick hand signals to indicate where she Hira to move and strike. Hira nodded, she understood.

The two creeped away from each other, Hira flying up into the nearby trees. Quietly they snuck up on the carnivorous plant from two different directions.

They had to be careful because while the choon was full and hopefully sated for now, it would eject whatever was in the stomach sack if it was threatened and try to grab any threats and swallow them. So stealth was the best option.

Hira and Rafe coordinated their attacks on the unsuspecting plant very well. Hira hitting the plant from above, Rafe darting in from below. With a quick series of blows from the two of them and their dlondzhii batons, the plant was sufficiently stunned. And with that they could go with trimming the plant to keep it from being dangerous again, which mostly consisted of taking off the tendrils.

As they got to work on trimming the choon, Rafe suddenly stopped, turning away from her work. Her antenna alert and searching along with her eyes for some kind of sound or movement within the dark forest behind her.

The momentary lapse in attention meant she missed the rousing of the plant, which expelled some of the sticky sap the choon used to subdue its prey all over Hira.

“Natúdrafe!” Hira cried out as she was covered.

Rafe quickly shushed her and ripped out the last tendril from the choon before pushing Hira back into the darkness of the jungle.

“What?” Hira asked as she tried to wipe off some of the sickly sweet substance, but it was a losing battle. It was already in her hair and clothing. It wouldn’t come off easily.

“There’s something in the jungle with us.”

“You sure?”

“Pretty sure.”

“Should we call it in?”

“We need to establish a visual at least, can’t just call in a sound I heard,” Rafe said. “Could have been another deer.”

“What’s the plan?” Hira asked.

“Stay close. But I want you up in the canopy. Go off to the south a bit, and I’ll head towards the east. Keep within visual range at all times,” ordered Rafe. “And be quiet.”

“Of course,” Hira responded. She quickly shook off her wings to dry them off before taking flight.

She flew up into the treetops, carefully looking out for both Rafe and whatever else was sneaking through the dense plant matter. Hira thought that it was likely another surprise drill from the jodn like that surprise “human” attack from a few weeks back.

Hopefully they wouldn’t fail nearly as badly this time.

Hira kept her eyes open, and her antenna attuned to everything around her, but she didn’t hear or see anything. Sixty feet below her, Rafe was sneaking through the underbrush, searching for the thing she heard. There were a few animals around that could have made the noise she heard, but there didn’t seem to be any around.

“It’s a bit too quiet,” Hira muttered to herself.

She thought she spotted something, movement, something moving fast, at least according to her compound eyes.

Rafe said to stay close, but in order to investigate, Hira would have to go slightly further away. What was another ten or so feet?

She quickly flew over to another branch and settled down. She looked, listened, and sensed but there was nothing over there. No disturbed leaves or branches, no tracks. So there couldn’t be anything over here. It was just a quiet jungle.

“Rafe?” she called out on the radio. “I don’t think there’s anything here.”

Only the eerie silence of the jungle late at night responded.

“Rafe? Where’d you go?”

Hira turned back to try and look at Rafe and at least see what she was doing and why she was ignoring her.

The other zlilfian was gone, missing from the area she was investigating a few moments before. Hira zipped from tree to tree looking for her.

“This isn’t funny, if this is some test or drill of your’s I don’t care. I’ll fail and go back to clean up,” Hira said with a huff both out loud and into the radio. She was sticky and tired and not happy. She didn’t care to be tested like this.

But she got no response.

Hira landed on the ground where she last spotted Rafe. “Where did you go? Let’s head back already.”

Then suddenly, around one of the larger trees in the area, Hira spotted a figure in all black. A figure that wasn’t zlilfian. They were too tall, too thin. They didn’t have wings. A human.

A human on the island. Where they explicitly weren’t supposed to be.

Hira turned to fly away, fly back to base, she had to alert someone, when she ran right into Rafe.

She swore she called out to her partner, but she didn’t hear the name leave her mouth. She didn’t hear the swift attack from her partner, but she did feel the stinger hit her abdomen.

Rafe had stung her.

A few seconds later, the toxin froze all of Hira’s muscles and she collapsed to the jungle floor, unable to keep herself upright.

She couldn’t hear Rafe leaving her on the ground and leaving with the mysterious human.

read early chapters on my kofi

[milady-pink]

Rosewood Manor

Summary: After discovering the truth about what is happening to the Manor’s residents, Christine seeks out Erik to ask some questions, but leaves with more than she started with; not to mention death claims another guest.

Warnings: death, drowning, murder, strangulation, alcohol consumption

Word Count: 3122 || Dividers: @firefly-graphics

Complete Series

AO3

——————————————————————————————————————————————-

Chapter 9

That was the first day Christine had a panic attack, and her second was in the morgue at Rosewood manor.

She sat on the cool stone floor, with the white tile on her back. Without realizing it, she scooted away from the table, the body, the dead body of Piangi that was very much real and not fake. Her breathing had taken a laborious toll, lungs hungry for air that hasn’t the flavor of death in it. Christine tried to calm herself down by looking up at the ceiling, trying to count her breaths, anything to distract from the fact that a dead body was in the same room as her.

The beach, think of the beach.

As she closed her eyes and tried to imagine a warm breeze filling her lungs, golden sand in her hands, warm water swaying over her feet. Eventually, Christine gets to twenty-five breaths by the time she has caught her breath. Carefully opening her eyes, knowing what to expect, she took in her surroundings again. This time the metal doors and white tile aren’t as scary. The steel table however, made her stomach churn. Cautiously standing up on shaken legs, she disposed of the gloves in a metal trash can, and walked right out of the hallway.

Back to the living.

Because of today’s brunch there was no lunch to be served, but a charcuterie board was made to appease the guests' hunger until dinner. Served on a rustic wooden platter were some slices of meats, cheeses from different parts of Europe, fruit, olives, nuts, and assorted crackers. Due to her discovery, Christine made a small pile of crackers to help her stomach, put off from eating anything for the foreseeable future.

Raoul waved her down to join himself and Jamie, sitting on some chairs placed in front of an elegant fireplace in a u shape. She sat down, placing her crackers on the equally formal coffee table in front of her, next to Raoul with Jamie on the far end. Her movements were slow, but her mind was frantic. What should I do? Who do I tell? Do I call the police? Will they believe me? So caught up in her onslaught of questions, she missed the one Raoul asked her.

“Christine?”

“Huh.” She snapped her head up.

“Uh, I asked if you were feeling okay. You look a little sick.” Both Raoul and Jamie had a look of concern for their teammate in their eyes.

“Oh, I’m fine. Just, th-the makeup was really good. Award worthy,” she answered with a weary smile. Raoul gave her one more look over before he continued asking Jamie details about the last known whereabouts. Christine barely listened; instead she made the decision to keep acting like this was all a game until she could talk to Raoul alone. She trusted him, he would know what to do.

For the rest of the afternoon the trio discussed how Piangi could have died. They came to a conclusion, after listening to what the others found at their location, and putting their minds together. Christine sat quietly, listening to her team, but when it came to her turn of detailing what she found, she froze. Taking a deep breath, she recalled what she found; the rope marks around his neck, and whiskey on his breath. Not a word was spoken about how it was a real body or how everyone remaining in the house sat in the hands of a serial killer.

“Alright, let’s go over the events before dinner. We really gotta nail this one.” Raoul ordered with a gentle but sure smile.

“Piangi sneaks into the wine cellar when everyone else is asleep. He discovers he was locked in after indulging a bit on the hard liquor.” Started Jamie, a shimmer of confidence in her eyes.

“Right, then that recording I told you about played, and informed Piangi the key is in one of the various bottles.” Raoul continued, looking to Christine for what comes next.

A deep breath. “After looking around, he found four bottles with keys. But, instead of drinking them, because he smelled of whiskey, he just pooped them down the drain in the corner.” She let go of the remaining air in her lungs, proud that she didn’t faint or throw up from the reminder.

“Yes, finally, after trying all four, he finds the correct key and leaves.”

“Only to be strangled in his room,” ended Jamie, “poor guy.”

Once they finished Christine remained silent and motionless, not knowing what to do and not wanting to scare anyone with her knowledge. Raoul thought everything sounded good, so he declared the meeting over, and promised to see them at dinner. Jamie left saying she was gonna drop red herrings to Sorelli and Andre about what was found in the morgue. Waiting until Jamie left earshot, Raoul leaned in to Christine.

“Hey, don’t worry,” he soothed, “we’re gonna get this one. I feel really good about what we found.

She looked up at him, the oceans in his eyes calm and sunny, reassuring her at once. “Raoul,” Christine began, “I have to tell you something.”

The oceans took on a scared look, making her want nothing but to be engulfed in his cologne in a hug. “Anything Chris, you can trust me.”

Taking what felt like the umpteenth deep breath of the day, she began to tell him what happened in the morgue. “Raoul, the deaths, they’re real. Piangi is really dead.”

At first he lost some of the concern in his eyes. “Christine, it’s just makeup, I’m sure he’s fine.” This made her slightly angry, that he didn’t believe her and simply brushed aside her words.

“No, Raoul, he’s really dead. So are the others,” she urged, “someone is killing us off one by one, like it’s a game.” Then she went into how she knew, without a doubt, about her father and the deathly chill that haunts her dreams. For a long time he simply stared at her, a sudden realization hitting his face, that she was telling the truth. For a while he stared at the floor, before speaking with a sure voice that gave Christine a sense of ease.

“Okay, this is what we’ll do; we have to expose him before he gets to us, beat him at his own game.” She gave him a skeptical look so he continued. “I’ll keep my eyes peeled for any suspicious behavior, just to make you feel better, okay?”

Christine thought for a moment before reluctantly agreeing to the plan, with only one question in mind. “But Raoul, who is ‘he’?”

He gave her an incredulous look like it was obvious. “That butler, clearly.”

By the time dinner was served, Christine Daae was a royal mess. She was jittery, anxiety pouring out of every pore of her body; not that many people noticed. For the most part she kept her cool, the only obvious sign that she wasn’t alright was her unusual silence. Christine was never much of a chatterbox, but her ill-fated discovery has made her retreat to her mind, trying to come up with a plan for survival.

Ever since she was a young girl Papa Daae installed in his daughter the drive and tools of survival in the modern age. He taught her how to count and save money, teaching the more complex terms like “direct deposit”, “compound interest”, and “annual percentage rate” when she got older. This drive stemmed from the fact that since her birth, the two Daae’s never had much money and what little they did own had to be spent wisely. Gustave prided himself on being very good at the sport of saving, mostly because Christine had a wonderful childhood even without some of the material goods; they learned to cherish memories and handmade goods rather than store-bought ones. So what if she never went to Disneyland as a kid, she got to stay at a half-off beach cabin in the winter because no one wants to stay there when it’s freezing outside. Except for the DeChagny’s whose holiday party theme was “Christmas on the beach”. Even when she grew up and discovered why her father took her to the winter beach most years, those memories have stayed with her forever.

Apparently, the need to survive financially also crosses the threshold of surviving a mass murderer.

Finally given a break from her worrisome thoughts, a plate was placed down in front of her. She remembers vaguely hearing something about spinach and feta stuffed chicken with a garden salad on the side. Her stomach rumbled, reminding Christine that she hasn’t fed it since lunch; which consisted mainly of crackers. Eating ravenously, she had to remind herself to slow down or else suffer a stomach ache later. The herbs paired perfectly with the crispy skin of the chicken breast, and the salad dressing made Christine think it had to have been house-made.

Unfortunately, after dinner came the notecards, and the remembrance of what lay in the morgue; just beneath their feet. For the life of her Christine couldn’t put to words what Jamie and Raoul recapped earlier. Starting to feel a migraine coming on, she tried her best at articulating what she meant to say. Even if it was an oral exam she would fail, putting too much pressure on herself by being reminded that the outcome of a bad score was her life.

For better or for worse, the note cards were collected, and put Christine out of her misery. Once again, the knife, the letter, and Erik’s soothing voice all made an appearance afterwards.

“Poor piggy Piangi. As if it wasn’t already obvious, the big boy quite enjoyed the finer foods, and drinks, of life. Too bad that was what eventually led to his demise. It was by chance that the previous night he asked dear Erik where the Manor’s whiskey is stored. He’d gone too long without some hard drinking, champagne tasting like water to him.” Erik’s voice carries across the table like a cool summer breeze, when you need it most. But it seems Jamie is none too happy to be the recipient of that wind. I forgot to tell her about Erik’s involvement. Well, I’m pretty sure I’m in way deeper than you, girl.

“After waiting until nightfall, he made his way down to the cellars, and greeted some old friends along with new acquaintances. Once he had had his fill, not an easy task by any means, he tried to retreat back through the door from whence he came. Thankfully, I provided some valuable knowledge, using an old recorder to accomplish the job. I told the fat cat that his answer lies within the very same reason he was down there. By looking through some bottles, he finds four that are filled with wine, and keys.” The continuous harassment of Piangi and his body, even after his death, was really starting to irritate Christine.

“But, rather than indulge himself further, he pours the liquor down the drain in the corner of the room. Or rather he had not a taste, instead only a waste. With the proper key in hand, he opens the door and goes his happy way. That is, until he returns to his room only to be surprised with a noose around his pudgy neck. He met his end with a larger than life appetite, giving him a larger than life grave.”

When he finished Christine couldn’t have been bothered to look up the entire time; her gaze remained on the spot in front of her where her plate once was. She felt utterly numb, not the good kind, but the kind of numb that your body puts itself into to escape what is going on around you. Detached and scared, with a startling feeling of relief; no more bills, no more tears, seeing Papa again.

Stirring her from these thoughts was a hand on her shoulder. Looking up, two calming seas are what saves her from drowning. She also realized that most of the other guests had retired; save them two.

“Hey, are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, kinda tired is all.” Lying to Raoul felt like kicking a puppy. Someone who genuinely cares about her wellbeing, and here she is lying to him.

“Well, I hope you sleep well tonight.” He squeezes her shoulder once for support, before starting to walk out of the dining room. Before he walks out the door, he turns half way back and says, “remember Christine, this is all a game.”

No it’s not, Raoul. Instead she gave him a tired smile while saying, “I know. I’ll try to remember that.” Not wanting to fight or try and convince him, feeling rather expired from the day.

Finally getting up from the table Christine makes her way to her room. But, before getting too far, she notices a black figure move near the front of the house. Decidingly, she listens to her gut and quickly walks down to confront him.

With his long legs, and swift stride, it isn’t until an impasse between a hallway and the library that Christine finally catches up to him.

“Erik,” she starts, “Jamie is really scared that she might be the next victim.” She didn’t know why she had said that. Technically it wasn’t a lie; she did notice the flaxen haired girl eat very little at dinner, and squirmed relentlessly while Erik disclosed Piangi’s death. But why not come right out with it; why not say these people are really dying and I’m terrified that I might be next.

Because she remembered Raoul’s words about him earlier.

Christine forgot how truly tall he was, from watching him at the end of the table he seemed less intimidating. But after stopping in his tracks, turning around to face her, and closing a bit of the distance between them, she felt uneasy. I should have brought Raoul with me—anyone.

“And what do you suppose I do with this information, Miss Daae?” Miss Daae? What happened to just Christine? He asked in such a way that sounded like he had no one to report to, no upper management. It might be her nerves but Christine also felt his voice took on an edgy tone, far from anything that would be considered conversational.

“I-I just thought you should know,” she explained. Then, without really knowing why, she disclosed to him her terrifying discovery. “Erik, they’re really dead. Piangi, all of them, it’s not makeup or a game.”

“I know” he states, as if everyone in the Manor was aware.

Feeling alarmed but not threatened, she asked in a pitiful voice, “isn’t there something you can do?”

Just like earlier outside the morgue, the visible side of his face takes on a look of deep sympathy. Perplexing, seeing as how Christine was fearful of him not moments ago. He opens his mouth, two thin barely pink lips, before closing again. After a thoughtful pause, he answers. “I’m afraid that you and the others are not the only ones being played in this game.” He gave her his amber gaze, molten gold with the setting sun, before taking off.

Leaving Christine staring after him, more questions than answers after speaking.

Sleep evaded the panic-stricken Christine that night. It was nearing midnight and her eyes were still open, albeit dry and bloodshot. Sitting up in bed, trying desperately to calm her mind as a war raged on. If she went to sleep, the killer could strike, easily entering her room; and she doubted very much that her screams would save her before it’s too late. On the other hand, she could stay up all night and risk being picked off because her fatigue has dulled her awareness.

Stay up, or go to sleep, that is the question.

In the end, she ends up going over to the window chair, picking up her book again letting her brain decide whether she falls asleep or not. Before getting too comfortable though, Christine saw a figure standing by the pool. Standing up to look closer, she notices they are wearing a long blue towel wrapped in a turban on top of their head. Illuminated by the glow from the water’s light, their outfit looked familiar, like something she saw not too long ago being worn by…

Sorelli

From where she stood, Christine watched Sorelli stand by the pool’s edge, before another dark figure appeared. Struck with terror, Christine ran from her spot by the window to her room's door. She sprints down the hallway to where Raoul said his room was, and starts to frantically knock on his door.

“What the devil is going on out here?”

Turning, Christine sees a disgruntled Andre wearing a striped sleeping robe. Without wasting too much time she simply says, “Sorelli”, before taking off down the main staircase.

By the time she got to the pool, it was too late.

Floating face down in the cool summer evening was Sorelli, dead.

Christine felt tears of frustration seep into her eyes, feeling accountable to what happened to her friendly colleague. She knew about the killings and couldn’t stop this one from happening; it was her fault the fire in Sorelli had been extinguished.

Hearing footsteps on the stonework patio, Christine turns her head to see some of her fellow residents of the Manor. Joining her by the poolside, Andre and Raoul took in the scene that lay before them. Raoul, still in his pajamas, trudged over to stand next to her.

“Was this why you were knocking on my door?” He asked with a sorrowful tone.

Christine nodded, then recounted to him that she saw her standing right there from her window. A solemn silence hovered over their heads, only to be interrupted by a distant voice.

“I just don’t get it,” he stated in an addled voice, “I swear I just saw her not an hour ago.”

“What in God’s name is going on?”

All three heads turn to see Sorelli, in the flesh, with a satin robe and her long dark hair braided down her back. Instead of anyone answering, all three faces contained unbridled shock; they were staring at a ghost, it was the only plausible explanation.

Still confused by what was going on, and unable to see the body floating in the pool, Sorelli asked another question. “Where’s Jamie?” Voicing that question made the three guests turn yet again towards the body. As if on cue by a movie director, the wind picked up causing the water to flow a bit, carrying with it the body's towel; revealing flaxen hair darkened by the chlorine.

Jamie was the fourth victim.

[aliceward]

What Does it Mean to Dream About Countryside

What Does it Mean to Dream About Countryside?

The countryside is my favorite place to go. It’s so peaceful and relaxing, free from the distractions of technology or busy city life.

It brings me back down to earth when I’m feeling too caught up in artificiality. With its beautiful wildlife - what better way to spend a morning than chasing cows across an open field or watching squirrels run around madly foraging nuts while they try not to get squished by speeding cars on country roads? You’re also close enough that if you feel like it, you can visit bustling cities without having spent hours stuck in traffic jams trying to get there!

A dream about the countryside can symbolize different things for people. For some, it is a way to escape the chaos of city life and find peace in nature’s beauty. Others may think that dreams with this setting represent their wish to have more natural beauty or happiness in their lives — a yearning they feel but cannot fulfill yet due to hectic lifestyles. It could also show our need as humans for serenity amidst all of today’s hustle and bustle because living amongst noise has become normalized over time - even if subconsciously!

What Does it Mean to Dream About Countryside

The countryside is vast and free from human activity, making it a quiet place to go when you want some peace in your thoughts. Your dream about the countryside could be due to having too many things happening at once that make it difficult for your mind’s eye to stay focused on one task or idea. Perhaps work has become overwhelming with demands? A desire for freedom can often come out in dreams. Maybe this particular landscape represents the liberation of thought processes so that they may return to normal again after being interrupted by stressors during waking hours.

Also, the bounty of wildflowers, greenery, and wildlife roaming the countryside symbolizes fertility. Dreams about a full luscious countryside can show a desire to have or nurture children and fill your life with important people.

In your dream, you may have experienced the following

The countryside is a beautiful place to visit. Many things can be seen and experienced there, such as animals grazing in fields or riding horses across the land. One could also see working farms with people tending them from afar, animal shelters nearby where one may pet fluffy creatures inside their fences and gardens filled with flowers of all kinds. The sky feels bigger when you’re on an open field surrounded by green grass for miles around! You might even get lucky enough to spot wildlife, too — such as deer under trees eating bark off of its branches or birds flying above looking for insects next to ponds. We’ve had so much fun exploring this wonderful space outside our town’s limits; hopefully, someday, we’ll return once more!

Positive changes are afoot if

The countryside is a place where you can relax. It has free-roaming animals, and it almost looks like something out of the book Watership Down because there are cute little creatures in your field! You probably experience an uplifting feeling when you look at this kind of scenery which makes sense since that’s how nature should make people feel - positive about life, refreshed after a hard day’s work.

Detailed dream interpretation

In a dream about the countryside, you can feel peacefulness and relaxation. If this is your only visit to the countryside in your dreams, then it means that all of the hectic chaos will soon come to an end if only for a short time. In other words, positive changes are ahead!

If you dreamt of living in the countryside or if a house in the countryside appeared to you, then everything is coming together for your life. You finally feel safe with someone else and maybe settle down somewhere that feels good to live in. If this was accompanied by riding a horse through rural areas, it means that things are going pretty well at present, and there’s nothing to worry about anymore!

In your dream, you see animals or a garden in the countryside. You may be thinking about having children if there were many animals in it and feel that this is natural, given how much love one can have for their young ones. The inputs also suggest that someone close to you might be pregnant as well. However, these dreams where I was surrounded by fencing all around me made me feel trapped, which goes against everything we know of being free from constraints while living out here among nature’s beauty!

This dream is in association with the following scenarios in your life

Getting back to the basics of life is a great way to find comfort and relaxation. Many people, especially those who are stressed out or have children, use deep breathing techniques and basic amenities such as clothing that they don’t need anything artificial for to achieve these goals.

Feelings that you may have encountered during a dream of the countryside

The air was so fresh and clean, and I found myself breathing in deep. There were no noises or disturbances to break my focus on the present moment. It felt like everything else had disappeared into oblivion. It gave me an incredible sense of calmness that allowed all worries to fade away from reality for a little while longer. The solitude made every detail feel more special than ever before - even mundane things such as walking down this path became new experiences under these circumstances with nobody around but us two tigers, wandering together through nature’s kingdom!

countryside Dream Meaning and Dream Interpretation

To dream about countryside explained:

May represent being open, or openness.

Dreaming about walking through or driving by a countryside church often is a positively charged symbol. Namely, it could translate your forthcoming ability of finding truthful, genuine and valuable friends. They would bring happiness and joy into your life. You would have a great time in their company.

Envisioning a home in the countryside, whether it belongs to you or someone else, may indicate changes sweeping into your life when witnessed in a dream vision. Seeing a house, such as a cottage or manor, in a rural area is often interpreted as meaning some life-changing event is about to take place, like a wedding, new job or big move. It may also predict some almost unbelievable event taking place, likely something you have to see to believe. Therefore, this dream may be a warning to expect the unexpected.

To dream about walking in the countryside evokes feelings of loneliness and nostalgia brought about by a physical absence. A loved one or someone who holds a special place in your heart may have been away for a while, and you could be missing him or her terribly at the moment. Nevertheless, a lot of your friends would fill the void caused by this person's absence by spending time with you and keeping you company as often as their schedule would permit.

In your dream you may have

Seen the countryside.

Been to the countryside.

Longed to go to the countryside.

Seen a house or farm on the countryside.

Camped out on the countryside.

Seen animals on the countryside.

Noticed a particularly bare or brown countryside.

Been at a countryside with a river.

Rode a horse on the countryside.

Seen a garden at the countryside.

Worked on farmland on the countryside

Seen a fence on the countryside.

Been at the countryside with someone.

Positive changes are afoot if

You visited or lived at the countryside.

Any animals were free-roaming.

There was a river on the countryside.

Anything that seemed peaceful and relaxing probably signified a positive change.

[pies-writes-and-more]

allergic to you

Word Count: 3, 713

Pairing: Tsukishima Kei x High School Age!Fem!Reader

Warnings: some swear words I guess, but as per usual, it’s just fluff from me. 

A/N: Guess who’s finally joined another fandom lol hello Haikyuu fandom! Pls be kind, it’s my first time writing for this fandom but I am in love with Karasuno boys, it’s problematic. Anyways, please let me know if you liked it! Sorry if I didn’t quite capture him the way other writers do haha. Also, Y/N = Your (Last) Name, just cause typing Y/L/N is exhausting lol my b

(Not my gif, credits to the original creator!)

Yamaguchi was trying his very hardest not to laugh, his hands clasped together in front of his lips to stifle his giggles as the tall blond boy he had known for years just looked at him desperately.

“It’s not funny,” Tsukishima’s lips formed into a frown (almost a pout), looking away from his friend nervously. His fingers played with some chopsticks, poking at his uneaten lunch.

Yamaguchi had never see Tsukishima Kei nervous. Volleyball games? Totally calm. Math class? Easy. Exam season? Piece of cake.

But put Tsukishima near a girl? No, scratch that. Not just any girl. Put Tsukishima near Y/N? It was all over for him. Suddenly, this 190cm tall boy wanted to shrink small enough to run away and not be noticed.

“It’s a little funny, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi insisted, finally letting out just a tiny chuckle that he just couldn’t hold back. “I think you’re overreacting. Just a bit.”

Tsukishima’s eyes turned back to the other boy, staring at him as if analyzing him, “How could I be overreacting? I’m telling you, I’m allergic!”

Yamaguchi was really trying his best to be supportive, knowing that talking about things was already hard for Tsukishima, especially when involving a particularly cute girl. “You think... you’re allergic... to Y/N,” Yamaguchi retorted slowly, repeating how Tsukishima started this convo with.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Tsukishima scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Obviously it’s some product she uses or something,” his nose scrunched up slightly as he tried to think of what it could possibly be. “Like that hand lotion she uses. The one that smells like vanilla and brown sugar,” Tsukishima proclaimed, nodding to himself like he had solved the mystery.

The green haired boy was still trying his best to be supportive. He nodded slowly, giving a forced smile to his best friend as he slowly spiralled into insanity. He had never seen Tsukishima this desperate for answers before. “Hasn’t she let you use some of that hand lotion?” He wondered aloud, remembering very specifically how red Tsukishima’s ears got when she rubbed a bit into a rash he had gotten on his hand.

“Gotta take good care of your hands if you play volleyball, Tsukishima-san!” Y/N had beamed, her fingers massaging the cream in.

Tsukishima had practically fainted that day, though he’d never admit it.

The blond’s frown tightened, holding his hand to his chin in thought, “Right. So not the hand lotion then.”

“Maybe she got a new perfume?” Yamaguchi offered, nibbling on some of his lunch while Tsukishima thought it out.

“No, she’s still using the same one,” He mumbled, and Yamaguchi smirked to himself, knowing that Tsukishima would’ve never admitted before that he knew little details like this about her. 

“Well. what kinds of symptoms do you have? Maybe that’ll narrow it down,” Yamaguchi suggested, leaning his head back on the wall behind them. It wasn’t unusual for Tsukishima to want to eat some place quiet, but today had been the first day that he had practically dragged Yamaguchi to this small secluded spot behind the school. The two of them sat against a wall to eat, though Tsukishima’s lunch had been completely forgotten.

“I just-” Tsukishima hesitated, eyebrows furrowing in annoyance as he tried to word how his body felt every time she was around. “I always feel so lightheaded. And my heartbeat’s always irregular too. Sometimes it feels like I can’t breathe properly.” His hand slid into his jacket pocket, pulling out his phone and tilting the screen towards Yamaguchi to show him a medical diagnostic page on the web. “Some people say these are symptoms of allergies. Or an anxiety attack. But I’m leaning more towards allergies.”

Yamaguchi squinted at the text, “You... Googled it?” He asked, a playful smile on his lips, glancing up at Tsukishima, amused.

“Well, what else am I supposed to do?” Tsukishima scoffed, scrolling through the page. “I don’t know what else it could be. It’s not with anyone else. It can’t be the classroom either, cause when she’s not around, I don’t feel anything.”

“Hm. So what’re you going to do about it?” Yamaguchi asked, going along with this ‘allergic’ idea as much as he could. He knew Tsukishima was very rational and even if he suggested what he figured was happening, Tsukishima would never listen.

“D-Do?” Tsukishima blinked. He hadn’t thought about what the next step was.

“Well I assume you don’t want to keep feeling that like right? You could always ask the teacher to move you, I suppose. Then ask her not to attend any of our games. Avoiding her for the rest of your life seems like the best choice doesn’t it?” Yamaguchi asked innocently, closing up his lunch box and taking a sip from his juice.

Tsukishima stayed quiet, eyebrows still furrowed and the frown on his face tightening. He knew that made sense - one of the girls in their class was allergic to nuts and she always had to be careful what she ate, and he had even heard of some people not eating or drinking milk products because of allergies. The logical part of his brain agreed with Yamaguchi, perhaps staying away from Y/N was the only answer.

“Then... maybe it’s not an allergy,” Tsukishima mumbled quietly. He hated going back on his word but he couldn’t deny that he loathed the idea of not seeing Y/N’s smile ever again. Or seeing her sit with someone else. “Maybe it’s just something I have to get used to.”

“You know, Tsukishima,” Yamaguchi started again, looking off to the scenery that was in front of them. His voice was light and airy as he tried to coax his friend to the idea, “What you’re going through sounds a lot like-”

Tsukishima could hear it in his voice, he knew the next word forming from Yamaguchi’s lips before it even entered the air. He slammed his lunch box closed and stood up abruptly, turning away from the other boy’s eyes. “Lunch is over,” he grumbled, as if that was the reason he stood up so dramatically.

Yamaguchi smirked and packed up his things, shaking his head slowly when Tsukishima wasn’t looking. He wasn’t at all surprised that Tsukishima was having a hard time accepting his feelings.

The word hung in the very serious boy’s mind for the rest of the day. He tried not to focus so much on Y/N as he sat next to her for the rest of their classes, tried to not inhale too much or look in her general direction, in fear that his “allergy” would act up again.

He was almost positive it wasn’t... that. He would know for sure if it was, wouldn’t he? His nose scrunched slightly as he thought about the music he had listened to before, ones that had just a good melody and beat and he definitely didn’t listen to because of the lyrics since they were about... that thing.

Didn’t some people talk about their heart feeling like it was going to fall out of their chest? That they found it hard to breathe? That it was like all life stopped when they saw that person? And that despite all this, they never wanted to be without them?

Tsukishima had to get to the bottom of this. He was either experiencing some sort of allergic reaction to her or he was experiencing feelings. He thought about ignoring them, pretending like they didn’t exist so that maybe everything would go back to normal one day. But how long would that take? Wouldn’t it just be easier to rip off the bandaid and find out now?

At the end of class, Tsukishima zoomed his way out of class, not waiting for Yamaguchi like usual.

“Is he alright, Yamaguchi-san?” Y/N asked, surprised that the two best friends weren’t walking out together like they had every other day. Some days, they would even walk out with Y/N on their way to practice. But apparently, not today.

“He’s got a lot on his mind,” Yamaguchi explained, waving it away with a smile. Perhaps today he would be walking home by himself. And that was fine by him.

Y/N packed up her things and waved goodbye to her other classmates, heading out the door and slipping in her headphones. Her mind drifted to all the things she had to do when she got home, whether or not there were leftovers to heat up today or if she should cook something up.

“You take so long,” a drawl voice interrupted the very beginning of her first song. She blinked in surprise, looking to her right where Tsukishima was leaning against a tree.

Y/N pulled out one earbud, tilting her head as she watched him. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen him do this casual, I-don’t-care-about-anything lean, with his headphones around his neck and his hands shoved in his pockets. But there was something different about him this time. Why was he avoiding her eyes? Why was he not giving her an annoyingly carefree smile? Why were his ears turning pink?

“Were you... waiting for me, Tsukishima-san?” Y/N asked slowly. He didn’t move for a moment, as if still calculating something in that big brain of his. He pushed off of the tree after sighing, walking over to her slowly.

“Obviously,” was all he said, glaring down at her as if she should’ve known this.

“You rushed out of class so quick, I thought you were already going home,” Y/N responded, still a bit confused. “Don’t you and Yamaguchi normally walk home together?”

Why did she have to question so much? Why couldn’t she just realize what he was trying to do? Tsukishima huffed and grabbed her hand, dropping a nice cool juice box in it. His eyes darted away from her next inquisitive look, but glanced back almost immediately because he wanted to see her eyes widen just a little at her favourite juice box.

“W-What is this?” Y/N asked, holding it in her hands. Part of her wanted to examine it to make sure he hadn’t somehow tricked her into holding something that wasn’t actually juice. She looked up at him suspiciously - Tsukishima knew her favourite juice?

“You didn’t have one with you today. I figured you forgot your wallet again today,” Tsukishima mumbled, shoving his hands in his jacket again.

“O-Oh. I did, thank you. Um,” Y/N hesitated. Was Tsukishima trying... to be nice? “Why... why did you buy it for me?”

“I just said why,” Tsukishima scoffed, flicking her head gently. He scolded himself internally, feeling guilty as soon as she showed the surprise on her face. She’s asking why you thought to be nice, Kei, stop being snarky, he told himself harshly. “Sorry,” he muttered quickly, feeling almost immediately bad for flicking her.

Y/N just laughed though, giggles spilling from her lips as she looked up at him, “Are you feeling okay, Tsukishima-san? You’re turning red,” she teased gently and he looked away from her quickly, hating how quickly his face heated up.

He took a breath, trying to mimic how calm he was on the court. He turned back to look at her with a cocky smile and confidence gaze, though he was sure she could tell he was nervous, “I’m fine, Y/N-san. But I need to tell you something. And I’m only going to say it once so listen up.”

Y/N watched him intently, noting the fake confidence he was trying to put on. She nodded as he looked at her for any sign to keep going.

His lips opened for a moment and Y/N could’ve sworn there was a moment of panic in his eyes when nothing came out. “I’m going to walk you home today,” Tsukishima stated finally, each word thudding into the air. He felt his confidence falter as the wrong words left his mouth, shifting his bag on his shoulder and starting to walk ahead.

Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed, feeling her confusion only rise. Did he really build up that whole thing... just to walk her home?

“Hurry up or I’ll leave you here,” Tsukishima called behind his shoulder, still walking ahead. He was internally punching himself, groaning and uttering insults at his own stupid self. Couldn’t even say it. Couldn’t just say Y/N I like you and I think I’m either allergic to you or I’m utterly in love with you but I’ve been told I suck at explaining how I feel and that I never say the right things at the right time so please just reject me so I can move away from these exhausting feelings.

“Want some?” Y/N’s gentle voice was suddenly beside him, and Tsukishima felt his stomach doing that flipping motion again. He glanced down at her and saw her holding up the juice box at him. “Seems only fair, since you bought it,” she explained, the glimmer in her eyes making him feel way too warm inside.

“Sure,” he mumbled after a moment. She smiled just a little bit wider, holding up the juice to him, expecting him to just snatch it away and drink. But no, Tsukishima being a little bitch and deciding that if he couldn’t admit anything with words, he could try with actions, leaned down slightly, and latched his lips onto the straw. His hand wrapped around hers over the juice box, holding it still as he took a sip.

Y/N felt like she was suddenly bright red, her heart possibly having exploded right then and there. His eyes looked up to meet hers as he sipped, smirking a bit as he noticed the panicked and flushed look in her eyes.

Maybe the feeling is... mutual?

“Mm,” he hummed, pulling away after keeping her gaze for a second. “I guess I can see why you like it.”

Y/N had shivers running up and down her spine, feeling like Tsukishima had looked into her very soul and knew about her year-long crush on him.

The two of them started walking a bit slower after that, and to the external eye, you’d probably just see two classmates walking home together. But look a little closer, and you’d see both of them having internal conflicts. They managed to walk through the small roads filled with shops and make it about halfway to Y/N’s house in complete silence. 

“Y/N-san,” Tsukishima finally ended it, the agonizing silence, in which he had been racking his brain trying to think of how to start a conversation. He stopped in his tracks as he spoke the one word, the two of them now on a quieter dirt path. There was no one to interrupt them, no one to save Tsukishima from embarrassment, no Yamaguchi to fill the awkward silence.

“Hm?” Y/N looked back at him, noticing him just standing there. “Are you alright, Tsukishima-san?”

“There’s something I need to say,” he started, his hands in his pockets clenched into fists.

“O-Oh okay.”

“I’ve been... feeling sick around you.” Baka, he scolded himself for what felt like the millionth time. That definitely wasn’t the way he had wanted to say it. “I-I mean, not like sick sick but like allergy sick,” he tried to recover, but scoffed at himself since that wasn’t all that much better.

Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed in response, trying to think about his reactions lately. He had definitely been more flushed lately, but she always thought that was annoyance. He’d been quieter and more distant, but it was Tsukishima after all. He looked over to her desperately, hoping to see that she was understanding what he was trying to say. She wasn’t. 

Tsukishima was starting to get frustrated. He knew he wasn’t the greatest at communicating but how hard was it to see how much he liked her? Yamaguchi saw it, hell, even his upperclassmen teased him about it when they first saw Tsukishima and Y/N walking out of class together one day. So why did other people who didn’t need to know it, why did they understand but she didn’t? Why was she so dense? 

You’re not saying anything, his mind reminded him as he scowled to himself.

“It has to be that,” Tsukishima finally continued quietly, his eyes now staring at his feet. He was practically trying to convince himself now. It had to be that there was a health related issue with him being around her. It had to be that, because if it wasn’t, it meant that Tsukishima had to tell her how he felt. And that meant that he was probably going to end up hurt. Why a girl like Y/N hung around a guy like him anyways was beyond him. 

“Why?” Y/N frowned, still terribly lost in the cosmos of this odd confession. “Why would it have to be that?”

“Because if it isn’t that, then it means that I’ve fallen completely head over heels for you.”

Tsukishima wasn’t sure how he had managed to say the words. But there it was. His fists tightened even more, his fingernails digging into his palm so hard it was starting to hurt. 

His eyes closed tightly, turning his head away from her. He didn’t want to look. He didn’t want to see laughter or disgust in her eyes. Maybe he could take it back now. Maybe he could-

Tsukishima jumped at the feeling of a poke on his chest, his eyes opening in surprise when he found Y/N standing much closer than she was earlier. “Are you teasing me?” She asked defensively, squinting her eyes up at him.

“T-Teasing?” Tsukishima stammered. He watched her eyes, noting how visibly upset she looked and he could feel his frustration rising. He had finally said what he had wanted to say this whole time... and she wasn’t even reacting the way she was supposed to. How stupid did she have to be? And why did she have to look so damn cute while doing it?

“Yamaguchi-san told you, didn’t he? I knew that poophead couldn’t keep his mouth shut,” she grumbled, crossing her arms against her chest. “He swore he wouldn’t tell you, but I should’ve known. You guys are best friends and all.”

“Told me... told me what?”

“That I’ve liked you practically since we met,” Y/N huffed, putting her hands on her hips. “Listen, Tsukishima-san, if you don’t like me back, you don’t have to tease me like this. I’m perfectly fine being rejected,” she told him with a pout on her lips (she was definitely not fine being rejected, and was planning on crying at home after this). “Don’t act like you didn’t know.”

Tsukishima‘s eyes widened, staring at her like she had grown a second head. “You... You like me?” He gulped. His allergies must be getting worse, his heart was thumping so hard against his chest, he couldn’t think straight.

Y/N and him shared a confused look for a moment, neither one of them sure who was teasing whom at this point. “Didn’t... didn’t you know? That’s why you’re being nice to me?” She asked him, poking his chest again. “Why else would you be walking me home and buying me juice?”

“Why would...” Tsukishima’s lips curled into a smile and suddenly he burst out into laughter, tilting his head back in amusement. 

“Why are you laughing?” Y/N whined, punching his arm lightly with a huff. “This isn’t a time to be laughing at me!”

Tsukishima straightened up with his signature cocky smile, shaking his head as he fixed his glasses on his face. Then, his hand moved to hit the top of her head.

“OW! Tsukishima-san!”

“You idiot. Why would I be standing here confessing to you if I was just going to make fun of you?” Tsukishima scoffed, smirking at her. “If I didn’t like you back and I found out you liked me, don’t you think I would’ve made it clear by now that you never stood a chance?”

Y/N thought about this for a moment, remembering that one time a girl in a different class had confessed to him after attending one of his matches.

“I think you’re incredible, Tsukishima-san! A-And I just.... well I just...”

“Are you trying to confess to me?” Tsukishima didn’t even bother looking up from his study book, finishing an equation before even glancing at her. “You should just give up now. I’m not interested.”

The girl had teared up so much, even Y/N had felt bad (even though she was secretly happy that Tsukishima hadn’t accepted the confession). Yamaguchi had yelled at Tsukishima about being gentle that day.

“Why would I be nice to someone stupid enough to think I’d like them? I didn’t give her any hints that I did, I don’t even know her,” Tsukishima grumbled.

Y/N had internalized those words, deciding she wouldn’t confess her feelings to Tsukishima ever. If she did, and Tsukishima rejected her, he probably wouldn’t want to be around her as friends ever again.

“So...” Y/N thought to herself for a moment, trying to reexamine what had happened today. “What was with the juice box then?” She asked him. 

“I thought...” Tsukishima frowned a little, looking up at the sky in thought. “I thought when you confess you were supposed to... give a gift or something.”

Y/N couldn’t help but giggle at his thought process and Tsukishima glared at her slightly. “You’re laughing at me now?”

She shook her head quickly, trying to stifle her giggles, “I just... I think it’s sweet,” she beamed, holding onto her little juice box even though it was empty now.

Tsukishima watched her carefully before smiling a little, patting her head gently, “Alright then, let’s get you home. I’ll bring another juice box for you for our date.”

“D-Date?” Y/N repeated shyly, following him as he started to walk again.

“You thought I’d just confess to you and not ask you out? Idiot,” Tsukishima smirked, feeling such an intense relief on his shoulders. His heart was still beating furiously and his stomach felt like it was going to come up his throat, but... it wasn’t as frustrating of a feeling now. 

After he dropped her off at her house with the promise of walking her to school tomorrow morning, Tsukishima couldn’t help but allow himself to smile widely the whole way home. 

If this is what an allergy felt like, he never wanted it to stop.

** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

Okay like I mentioned up there in the Author’s Notes, this is my first time writing for Haikyuu so lmk what you thought :) I’ve written some stuff for OHSHC and I think it’s pretty obviously that tall jerks with glasses are my type lol 

Anyways! Enjoy!

[miekasa]

the babysitter’s club (1)

+ pairing: levi ackerman + (fem) reader, featuring bright-eyed but very easily intimidated interns and part-time babysitters eren and armin who are trying their best

+ genres and warnings: modern au, parents au, fluff, yes the dog’s name is captain and he’s tiny what about it

+ summary: eren and armin are good subordinates, who happen to be pretty good babysitter, too. usually. 

+ word count: 2.7k

+ notes: this was just something fun i edited and reworked again, also to provide some more insight about dad levi and my oc kids; this focuses only on holden, who is the oldest of the bunch, but you’ll more about the rest as they go

It’s not that Levi doesn’t trust Holden’s babysitters, he just would rather watch over her himself. Moreover, he would rather have the time to spend with his small daughter instead of having to leave her in the care of someone else who isn’t you, but sometimes life gets busy, and babysitters come in real handy.

He still doesn’t understand why Erwin would schedule the both of you to attend such important work-related meetings on the same weekend; much less, to send you half-way around the world for yours, and then book Levi for damn near twelve hours on a Saturday. He would murder Erwin if he weren’t his direct boss, and a long-time friend. But shit happens, and while it’s a major inconvenience and pain in his ass to be working on a weekend, it’s good to know he could rely on the brats at the office to step up on such short notice.

“I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that if anything happens, I won’t hesitate to dismember you,” Levi says calmly, closing his briefcase after triple-checking its contents.

“Of course,” Armin stiffens visibly, awkward laughter seeping through his words, “Eren and I would never let anything happen to Holden.”

To his left, Holden has already tugged Eren to the coffee table for a game of children’s Scrabble, determined to show off her new skills. Levi smiles slightly as he remembers playing the game with her last week, and how awe-struck she was to have seen Levi create a word bigger than “unattainable”—which is currently the longest word in her four-year-old vocabulary. But he’s certain she would have no trouble beating Eren.

He gives Armin a slight nod. He knows Holden is in good hands; or good enough hands with Armin, anyway. It’s not the first time the duo has babysat, and for as air-headed and clumsy Eren could be at the office, he seemed to be pretty damn good with kids if Holden’s attachment to the brunette was anything to go by.

Levi recounts that you’ve questioned on multiple occasions why Eren was so dedicated to being your PA when he seemed to have a potential career in taking care of, and maybe even teaching children. Not that he’s not a good assistant to you, but he’s certainly not as organized or detailed-oriented as Armin. Levi shrugs away the thought. Eren’s career choices are none of his business; his only concern is that he keeps his daughter safe and sound.

“Right. My card is on the kitchen island, you can buy lunch and dinner or whatever, I don’t think there’s much in the fridge,” Levi informs Armin. He looks briefly to the clock on the wall; he really should get going. “Remember to walk Captain at some point, and no matter what Holden says, he absolutely does need a leash on him. If Erwin isn’t being a complete asshat, I’ll be home by nine. (Y/N) will probably still be on her flight, so call me if you need anything.”

Armin nods enthusiastically, promising Levi that they would take care of everything. They’d better.

“Alright, I’m heading out,” Levi announces, pulling his keys from the table near the door, “Be good, Holden. Tell Armin and Eren if you need anything.”

Holden’s head perks up at the sound of her name. Elegantly, or as elegantly as a four-year-old can be, she stands from her seated crisscross position, to run over to Levi by the door. He should remind her that she should use walking feet inside the house, but he can’t bring himself to, instead crouching down to meet her height.

“Bye, daddy,” she tells him sweetly. Levi reaches a hand out to ruffle the top of her head, much to the small girl’s chagrin. She sports a grimace almost identical to his as he reaches up to try and smooth out the aftermath of her father’s affections, “Daddy!”

Levi can’t help but chuckle, reaching two fingers out to poke at his daughter’s forehead. “Be good. I’ll be back soon.”

“Mommy too?”

Levi sighs, “No, mommy doesn’t come back until Tuesday.”

“That’s four days away,” Holden’s doesn’t hesitate to express her dissatisfaction. Levi nods, a little proud of how quickly she’d calculated that in her head, “Can Eren stay until Tuesday?”

“No, Eren cannot.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Holden crinkles her nose. Levi really has got to do something about her fascination with Eren.

Holden looks backwards to where Eren is still seated around the coffee table, he and Armin watching the father-daughter duo. After reconciling with the fact that Eren does, in fact, have his own home to go back to at the end of the day, Holden turns back around, and holds her hand up, palm facing Levi. He does the same, bringing his larger palm to hers, so that her hand is pushed against the middle of his.

Not one for hugs, kisses, or larger displays of affection, Holden simply turns her palm so that her hand grabs around Levi’s as best as possible, hooking her thumb around his pinky finger—what Levi’s heard the young girl call a hand hug.

“Bye, daddy,” she repeats, squeezing his hand, “Come back soon.”

Levi bends his fingers to wrap around her hand, “I will.”

“Keep an eye on her,” Levi reminds Armin and Eren, after standing back up and gripping his briefcase in his hand, “Don’t cause too much trouble.”

“Holden never causes trouble,” Eren says in response, but his words are spoken in coos to the young girl, who’s already back at his side. 

Levi scoffs, “I was talking to you.” 

“We’ll be fine, boss, don’t worry,” Eren chuckles with an awkward blush, “We love looking after Holden.”

“I’m not your boss,” Levi deadpans, double-checking his pockets for his keys, “You’d better hope everything is fine. Call me if anything happens, I’ll be back soon.” 

With one final round of good-byes, and a wave from his daughter, Levi’s out the door, and stepping into his car with a grimace. It was just one stupid day out of his life. Besides, Holden would be fine with Armin and Eren; she always is. Levi is just grumpy that he can’t be the one to spend the day with her. 

He sighs, reluctantly, putting his keys in the ignition. The sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could come back to Holden. Everything would be fine in the meantime; for now, he had to focus on how he was going to get himself to sit through Erwin’s long-ass meeting. 

“Levi! Hi! Um… okay, so don’t freak out, but Armin and I are at the hospital with Holden right now—don’t freak out—because there was a small incident at lunch—don’t freak out and fire me please—but! It’s all gonna be okay, they’re already treating her and she’s doing fine now, so don’t freak—”  

“Tell me not to freak out one more fucking time and I’ll castrate Armin and feed you his balls myself.”

“You sound a little freaked out,” Eren placates, wincing and holding his phone away from his ear when Levi growls in response.

“You have five seconds to tell me what you two idiots did to my daughter and explain why I shouldn’t decapitate you immediately.”

“It’s a funny story, actually—so, um, we think Holden might be allergic to nuts…?”

“What do you mean might be, Jaeger?”

Eren can feel his heart in his throat. He eyes Armin on the other side of Holden’s hospital bed. He looks no better—color almost completely drained from his face, but Eren doesn’t think he can say much else to his boss before his knees give out from underneath him.

“Uh, well, it was a lot of technical terms, and—I—um, actually I’m going to let Armin explain!” Eren hurries, all but chucking his phone at the unsuspecting blonde.

Armin’s blue eyes look almost grey with anxiety, but before he can protest, Eren is flailing his hands and pointing fingers and reminding him that Levi will kill them both if he doesn’t start talking.

Reluctant, and terrified, Armin finally lifts the phone to his ear, stuttering out a pathetic hello, but Levi cuts him off before he can say anything else.

“Save it. Send me your location, and pray I don’t kill you when I get there.” Armin chokes out a “yes, sir,” before slowly bringing the phone down to his side.

The good news is that Holden’s allergic reaction wasn’t too severe: her throat had been irritated, and hives had emerged as a result, but it hadn’t been closing up. And luckily, Eren had the endurance to run nearly a mile and half with a four year old tucked under his arm; because with the traffic Armin observed whilst he and Captain huffed and lagged behind, it would have taken thrice as long to get Holden to the ER had they waited and called for an ambulance.

Even better was that Holden was an unnervingly calm kid, even whilst having an allergic reaction. She looked almost back to normal now, save for a few red looking blotches on her neck and upper arm; and seemed more than content to be watching a video on Eren’s phone, despite the situation. She was a little bummed out to find out that she could never eat the new ice cream she liked so much ever again, but she seemed to quickly get over it once Eren reminded her that there were lots of other flavors out there for her to try. Flavors that wouldn’t make her choke to death.

Still, Eren and Armin could probably kiss their jobs goodbye, seeing as they had nearly just poisoned their bosses’ daughter. Holden seemed to like them enough, but, unfortunately, Holden wasn’t the Ackerman who signed their checks.

At the very least, Eren doesn’t think you’ll be too upset with him. He doesn’t think you’ll be ecstatic to hear that while you were away on your already inconvenient work-trip on the other side of the globe, that he also managed to land your daughter in a hospital bed… but you were the more forgiving one. Then again, maybe not so forgiving when it comes to the health and wellbeing of your daughter. 

Eren falls back against the wall in dread. You weren’t even in the same country as him and he was worried about what you might say or do to him. Levi was probably less than twenty minutes away and fully capable of beheading him.

“You… uh, you think the Interior Branch is still looking for interns?” Eren breaks the silence, looking towards Armin, who’s taken the seat next to Holden’s bed, petting Captain robotically as the dog sits in his lap.

“I don’t think it matters,” Armin responds, “They won’t hire corpses.”

Fifteen minutes, and several run red lights later, Levi is bursting through the doors to the pediatric wing of the emergency room. He doesn’t care about the old woman at the reception yelling at him for causing a ruckus, or the other parents, doctors, or visitors eyeing him for marching around like he owned the place. Holden was in there somewhere, and he was going to get to her.

“Holden—oh, god, Holden,” Levi coos, frantic, as he marches into Holden’s room, scurrying to the side of her hospital bed. A cold hand reaches up to stroke her face. Angry, red bumps litter the sides of neck, her cheeks are puffier than usual, and the perimeter of her mouth seems a bit irritated, but Levi is relieved. She’s okay, his baby girl is okay.

“’M fine, daddy,” Holden assures him. She’s almost overly-perceptive for her age, able to pick up on her father’s out of character antics, and does her best to console him. “Eren ran with me all the way here when I started coughing and itchin.’”

Levi nods, the dark grey splotches in Holden’s eyes bringing him comfort, ensuring him that she was okay. “They gave me a shot, and I don’t like needles, but I didn’t even cry at all. Ask, Armin and Eren, they saw! Captain, too.”

“Brave girl,” Levi smiles, reaching his hand up to push her hair out of her face then leans over to press a kiss to her forehead.

Levi had almost forgotten that Eren and Armin were in the room until he hears a blundering cough from behind him. The younger boys look petrified, Eren practically shaking in his shoes, while Armin doesn’t even have the confidence to look him in the eye.

“We’re really sorry, Levi,” Eren apologizes, voice scratchy and wobbly, like he’d been the one to just get a shot, “We didn’t know—and when she started coughing and saying she couldn’t breathe, I swear, I ran here as fast as I could—”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s… fine?”

Levi sighs. Maybe he’d been a little harsh with them on the phone, letting his emotions get the best of him. He’d already been pissed off enough to not have the time to spend with Holden this weekend; hearing that she’d been hurt was just the final push over the edge for him, but it wasn’t necessarily Armin or Eren’s fault.

“I didn’t know either,” Levi exhales, reaching at hand out to pet the top of Holden’s head again, the young girl now distracted once again by the phone in her hand, “She’s never had a reaction to anything before, and neither (Y/N) or I have any strong allergies.”

Armin shuffles where he’s standing. “The doctor said she might be allergic to tree nuts. We, uh, we gave her pistachio ice cream after lunch.”

If there’s anything concerning Levi, it’s that they gave Holden ice cream before dinner, but he supposes he can let it go for now.

“Eren told me to try it, and it tasted good, daddy,” Holden interjects, “Before I started coughing, it was good.”

“Ah, well, you can’t—you shouldn’t eat things that make you feel sick!” Eren stutters loudly.

“But it was good,” Holden pouts, “And you said to try new things, Eri. I won’t know if it makes me sick if I don’t try them.”

Levi holds back his laughter. He knows that Holden definitely wouldn’t want to try the same same flavor again knowing now that she was allergic to it; she was just pulling at Eren’s leg. Levi would have to keep an eye out for the stuff anyway, especially if her oh-so-precious Eren has expressed any former love for it. 

“Um, Levi, sir,” Armin calls, pulling Levi’s attention towards the blonde, “We didn’t know if (Y/N) would have landed already, but do you think you should call her, to, um, let her know?”

Levi’s face pales three shades when he realizes that none of them had already informed you that your daughter was currently hospitalized with a new found allergy.

“You can call her,” Levi says, a shudder in his spine at the thought of relaying this information to you, “That’s your death sentence, not mine.”

[getlostsquidward]

The gaps in your hearts (Part 2)

Lou Miller x fem!reader

A/N: You asked for part 2, and I shall deliver. I hope it's worth your wait!!

Summary: After your departure, an unexpected circumstance had you arriving back at the loft, back at Lou. Will the gaps in your hearts only become wider or will they be finally filled?

Part one

“Oh, bugger. Baby? I’m home.”

“Nice place.”

“Try heating it.”

“There’s a room for you upstairs. Your stuff’s upstairs too.”

Lou called your name a couple of times but she got no answer. Maybe you went out and got something from the store. She furrowed her eyebrows at the notion that you didn’t let her know you’ll go out like you usually does.

She can’t wait for you to meet Debbie.

The sun has set down and you weren’t at home yet. Lou was growing worried each minute that passes. She’d left you text messages, she tried to call you several times, but all of it went to voicemail. Where did you go?

Debbie had returned from her closure meeting with Claude. She had bought takeout for dinner but Lou wasn’t in any mood to eat. She was antsy but keeping it down so her friend won’t notice. Maybe you were called in at work? Maybe you went out with a friend and forgot to send her a text. The blonde knows you can perfectly take care of yourself but she can’t help but be worried.

“Where’s your girl?” Debbie asked, reminded of Lou calling someone ‘baby’ when they arrived earlier.

Lou just shrugged her shoulders, not really knowing what to answer.

“Maybe she hit her head and woke up from the truth,” the brunette joked.

Lou glared at her friend. “Not funny.”

“Tell me about her.”

The blonde started to tell her friend everything. From how you met, the ups and downs of your relationship, and how loving and wonderful you are. You were patient and understanding; you were perfect in every way and she hated how she’d managed to hurt the one person that did nothing but love her.

The day you moved out of the loft was the most devastating day of her life. It was way much worse than when Debbie left before.

She knew that you were checking in on her through Matt, and she was wracked with guilt. Even after what she’d done, you still care for her. Lou unconsciously checks her phone to see if you left a message but to no avail. You really honoured your word that you’d give her time, and she was thankful for that.

In your two-month break, she really had thought about it all. She used the time to sort out her feelings. Hell, she even opened up to some of her other friends for help, something she rarely does even with those who know her. Unearthing her feelings.

Lou had feelings for Debbie. She didn’t know if it was romantic or if it was just a deep affection. She didn’t really think much of it. Debbie was one of the few of the persons she knows she could trust with her life and in the conworld, such a person was like a rare gem. It was hard to find, and if you do, you’ve got to treasure it. And so she did.

“Maybe you’d mistaken the concept of love and affection. You told me you really didn’t think anything about it and that explains it. The moment you felt that that person was dear to you, you immediately equated it to romantic love.”

The words mentioned had hit Lou, hard. Once she realized that, she promptly had to find you. She called you, but you didn’t answer. She didn’t know where you were staying so she asked your friends, and that’s how Lou found you drowning in liquor in some alley.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” Debbie berated, feeling rather guilty about how she was probably the reason you left for the second time around.

“I do. No need to remind me.”

“I’m gonna tell you to go find her, but I also need you to focus on the job. Can you do both?”

“Of course,” Lou sighed. She won’t know what she would do if she were to lose you for real this time.

-

You were feeling rueful for leaving Lou without a word. You knew she’d be worried sick, but it was the best for the two of you. Once again, you fell into your routine. It was incredibly helpful that an event was coming and you can spend all of your time at work. Though this time, the constant drinking was out of your to-do list.

Your mind often wandered to Lou. She said something about a job, maybe that’s what they’re doing right now. Has she been thinking of you too?

The messages and missed calls Lou had sent you were not in your knowledge as you’d let your best friend hide your phone, and bought a new one for you. At first, you thought that it would be ridiculous and childlike of you but maybe she had a point. The worst-case scenario would be Lou filing for a missing person’s case, but you knew she wouldn’t dare cross paths with the police.

-

“Oh my god, you guys. This party is nuts. I’m not kidding! If your dress is ugly, you can’t wear it, no shit! They will bower your wardrobe!” Tammy rambled and rushed to get into the loft where she got everyone’s attention.

“I love that!” Lou quipped.

“Oh I gotta pee,” Tammy continued to ramble. “Every table cost a quarter-million dollars that if they allow you to buy one! I mean not just any $250,000 check will be approved, I mean they literally have to tell you whether or not they’ll take your money, it’s crazy!”

Everyone was standing outside the bathroom, still listening to Tammy rant about the Met.

“And then you can’t bring anyone, that you clearly go by yourself. They spend a hundred grand on food and apparently no one eats, it’s really crazy,” the blonde finished as she went out, kind of out of breath from the continuous rambling.

“Did you get the seating chart?” asked Debbie.

“The what?”

“The seating chart.” Tammy handed the special glasses she was wearing to Debbie.

“If I haven’t said it, it’s really crazy. This one person that I’m working with maybe is the only saving grace of that place. Thank goodness for Y/N,” the blonde sighed, capturing the attention of Lou.

She shared looks with Debbie, hoping that it was you their friend was talking about.

After discussing the seating chart, they approached Tammy and straightforwardly asked about you, if you were the same person she’d mentioned. Apparently, you quit your last job and had started few weeks prior to Tammy. Lou asked if you’re doing well, and almost cried when she nodded. When Tammy asked why they are curious, Debbie answered. “Lou’s girl. Left because of this dumbass right here.”

The blonde had a surprised expression on her face, a bit amazed at how small the world is. The person they’ve been looking for was only at their reach this whole time.

“She’s sweet. If you’re planning to get her back, which I know you would, you better not mess up.”

Since that day, Lou was itching to contact you but inhibited herself. She’d finish the job first, then she would have you back. If she was lucky enough to be given a second chance, which she wouldn’t fucking waste, she can finally go to California riding with you on her new bike like you always wanted to do.

Finally, it was the first Monday in May. Lou was still in the van with Nineball, preparing food for her. She remembered you telling her she would look good in a chef’s uniform. She wasn’t actually a chef right now, but she still owes you a hundred bucks.

What if you weren’t gone? Maybe you would be in on the heist too, and you would be the most beautiful woman in her eyes, everyone else in the Met is damned. She knew you would have loved and drooled over the green jumpsuit she was wearing.

The heist was successful, and the ladies were lounging at the loft. Their dillydally was halted when an unexpected guest has stormed the loft. Daphne Kluger.

“You guys are fucked,” the actress huffed. “Wow, nice place.”

“Excuse me, you are trespassing-”

“No, we asked her to come,” Lou cut Tammy’s accusation.

Debbie started to explain how Daphne might have gotten a sense of what they were doing, so they roped the brunette in. Daphne then asserted how she was the one who was saving everyone from insurance fraud. Another revelation had caused panic to those who didn’t know, scared that they might be busted and imprisoned.

“We will not be the prime suspect.”

“Then who will be the prime suspect?”

Lou listed several people like the security guys and the busboy. Their attention was focused on Daphne that they didn’t notice another person coming in. You quietly opened the door in purpose, glancing at each of the women inside. You’d heard the last bit of their conversation and captured their attention by announcing your presence.

“The shady guy who put Debbie away,” you casually commented, walking towards everyone.

“Wow,” Daphne chuckled. “The boyfriend.”

Everyone but Debbie and Daphne was shocked, for the third time around. They didn’t really expect guests today. Lou looked like she had seen a ghost but didn’t take her eyes off you.

“Yup. If they were gonna be looking for somebody, just had to make sure it wasn’t one of us.”

You whispered a “Hi, Tam” to your coworker, and took a sit in the middle of her and Daphne. “The precision, right?” the actress turned to you. “The attention to detail, a little grace note that really makes something sing.”

While she was blubbering about how well-thought the job was, she scooted closer to you and put a hand on your thigh. Lou raised an eyebrow at the action, jealousy bubbling in her chest.

“Why are you doing this?” Tammy asked, referring to Daphne. “And Y/N? You were in too? How?”

You let the brunette answer first and when she finished, Debbie had answered for you.

“She was our other mole in the Met, aside from you and Nine.”

“Oh, you were an angel, Y/N. She made sure I was okay after hurling my guts out. Much much better company than my date,” Daphne preached, leaning her head on your shoulder. You rest your head on hers in return.

Lou’s jaw was gritted, it was too much for her and she couldn’t look any longer. She looked at Debbie and gave her a perplexed look, asking for further explanation.

The brunette just shrugged her shoulder, knowing it was up to you to talk to Lou. After all, it was the reason she approached you. At first, she had only talked to you about Lou, but later called to ask if you were willing to join in the job. You’d said yes right away.

That night, you saw Lou sitting near the shore. She was staring straight ahead as you sat next to her.

“Lou?”

“You know, I planned to talk to you after we got the money. But you got to me first,” she whispered.

“You have to thank Debs for that.”

Lou chuckled, “Debs? What, you’re on a nickname basis now? She doesn’t even let me call her that.”

“She told me everything. And, I- I’m sorry, Lou. I shouldn’t have left like that, left you worried though you had a job to focus on-”

Lou cut you off as she pulled you in for a hug. “No, Y/N. I should be the one apologizing.”

Her hand was running up and down your back, the touch soothing all of your troubles. You can finally feel at peace. There was no snarling voice at the back of your head, no heavy feeling. You feel like a sailor in the middle of a calm sea.

“I’ll make it up to you, for real, this time,” Lou pulled back, giving you a smile. You nodded in return.

“Although you may have to explain first what was that earlier,” her smile faded, and glared at you playfully.

You were about to ask what she was referring to when you suddenly remembered. You told her how you may or may not have told Daphne that you were on a rough patch and she volunteered to help make Lou jealous. Both of you shared a laugh as she commented on how effective it was that she had to restrain herself from tearing you apart from the actress.

There was no time to waste, you thought as you pressed your lips against Lou’s. The kiss was slow and passionate, the both of you pouring all your feelings out. Her hand entangled itself on the base of your skull as she deepened the kiss, tongue swiping on your bottom lip asking for entrance. You let her dominate you, a soft moan coaxed out of your mouth.

The only thing you could focus on was the feeling of Lou’s lips; your hammering heart and the waves lapping gently at the shore.

“I love you, baby,” Lou murmured, both of you breathless.

“I know, Lou. I love you too.”

[stellar-imagines]

Stellar Winter Event

“What do you mean we’re out of hot chocolate?”

Cuddling by the fireplace

“You. Me. Snowman. Now.”

Winter sport of your choice

“What’s that smell… are you making cookies?”

“Hey, no peeking!”

“You invited over HOW many people to the holiday party?!”

Christmas shopping

“Wait, did you spike the eggnog?”

“Where did all of this mistletoe come from?”

“I’m a grown adult. I don’t want to take a picture with Santa Claus.”

Trimming the tree

“Your hands are freezing!”

“Aren’t you cold like that?”

“Seriously, I told you that you would get sick going out like that.”

“What do you mean you don’t want to go sledding?”

Watching movies under a pile of blankets

Snowball fight

“I swear to god, if you sing another goddamn Christmas carol…”

“Where on EARTH did you get that sweater?”

“How did you manage to get tangled up in tinsel?”

Kissing in the snow

“Let’s go for a walk! No, we won’t freeze.”

“Here, let me help you with the scarf.”

Spending time with family

“We’ve got a white Christmas!”

“Did you eat all of my holiday chocolate?”

“Where’s all of your holiday spirit, you Scrooge?”

Opening presents

“You know, when you said ‘Christmas party,’ this isn’t what I was expecting.”

“Come on, just wear the Santa hat for a little bit?”

“There’s no way I’m letting you spend Christmas alone.”

“Hey, cut it out. It’s the holidays.”

“Nope. This is not happening. It’s CHRISTMAS.”

“Wait, you’re not going home for Christmas?”

“Oh come on, it’s just a tradition.”

Stuck in a snowstorm

“You’re under the mistletoe so stop stalling and just kiss.”

“Just open the damn present.”

“Hey, stop laughing and put the damn topper on the tree already.”

“If you don’t go to sleep right now, Santa’s not coming.”

“I mean, I knew you had Christmas spirit but this is ridiculous.”

“What do you mean, Santa’s not real?!”

Running into each other at the airport

“No, you’ll burn the house down.”

“It’s almost midnight.”

“This is not for holiday cheer. This is blackmail.”

“Did you seriously get me a pony for Christmas?”

“No more holiday movies. Please.”

“Those cookies were for Santa!”

“Look out! It’s icy!”

“I’d like the snow a lot more if I didn’t have to drive in it.”

“Why is it so cold?”

Winter power outage

“You want to go to the mall now? ARE YOU CRAZY?”

“Shhhhh, don’t tell [pronoun of choice]!”

“Secret Santa? Really?”

“Ummm… Thank you very much for the fruitcake. I’m sure it’ll be, uh, delicious.”

“Wait, you mean this whole time, you hated peppermint?”

“I feel like there’s more frosting on you than on the gingerbread.”

“What are you doing with that mistletoe– oh.”

Unexpectedly spending the holidays together

“But that carol doesn’t even make any SENSE!”

“I guess… this is when we kiss?”

“No, we’re not getting a puppy for Christmas. Stop. Asking.”

“You don’t put marshmallows in your hot chocolate? YOU HEATHEN.”

“You’re going to New York for New Year’s? Are you nuts?”

Winter proposal

“So… what are your plans for New Year’s?”

“You’re perfectly welcome to kiss whomever you wa–”

“Do NOT throw that snowball or else!”

“Did everyone else come with a date?”

“Hey, want to help me get my parents off my ass about not having a date?”

“Don’t you have anything else spirited that isn’t as much of an eyesore?”

“Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays, love.”

It’s already November and soon it’s that time of the year, if you all know what we mean! We want to start a new event thing! Even though we have requests in progress and Lou is super buy with her final year project.

The rules are simple, send us a sentence starter along with the character you want us to write for! 

Please be advised that we only write one character max but can have more than one prompt. We may combine a few requests together [mainly because the request for the same character and the same prompt.] But we will make exceptions if you plan on giving us more details of the scenario you want. (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

Example: [Character of choice] with [Prompt Number]. Sample: Luffy with #1 and #13 for the Stellar Winter event. (Honestly, send it however and just make sure its clear enough for us to understand!)

The requests will be tagged with ‘Stellar Winter 2022′ which will be accessible in our tags page soon! We will stop taking requests on 31 December 2022. Be advised that if you send your request on the last day, we will still do it. And depending on our schedule and flow of requests, the release of each request will differ.

List of characters are in our rules post! 

[eddsworld-headies]

Kissing Headcannons for tord plz😫

I'll do all the boys just for other who want this too!

(and I'm not totally sure about the details of kissing but I'll try my best)

Slightly NSFT

Tord: When you kiss, it's like fire. Sometimes it's so hot you wish you could pull away and take a breather. But he likes when you melt against him and trip up. He'll keep you pressed against a wall, your hands on his face and his holding tight to your waist while his lips move against yours. His teeth are so sharp and you don't know if him biting your tongue or lip is hot or hurts but you do know that your loosing taste buds because of those canines and everytime you taste copper to give his ear a tug to keep him from giving you a lip piercing. He especially enjoys when you shudder against him. You do that, or grind a little against him and he's gone. You better expect to have a sore throat or sore legs tomorrow cause your just too much not to eat alive when you sound like that. Side notes: He likes marks. On you or him, he doesn't care. But you better believe he'll be flaunting that shit like cash cause your skin look perfect with that little tint of red or a pop of purple. And maybe, just maybe some of your higher neck ware goes missing and your left with off the shoulder tops that expose everything perfectly, but 'you look perfect so is there anything really to worry about? I'm sure you'll find them soon, Little one.'

Edd: God, he's too soft. He's way too gentle and it leaves you shaking. He loves it when you sit with him, specifically on his lap in his big cozy chair with a few blankets while your reclined so you can just melt together. Yeah, he's fat. And it's one of the hottest things about him. What Bear isn't hot? He's soft underneath you and his hands are big as they run up your back and sides. With your hands pressed to his chest he can easily run his fingers through your hair and marvel at how cute you are with his lips pressed to yours. He even kisses soft. He doesn't bite, he nibbles. He doesn't grab, he merely squeezes. Even the way his tongue dances with yours has you drooling and going limp against him. You could only pray you do the same to him. And one time, when you managed to get away for a few moments in the kitchen, he had noticed a slightly damp area on the thigh of high trousers and he went absolutely nuts at how utterly adorable it was that you had gotten wet simply from kissing him.

Matt: He likes the bed. He enjoys having you lay back, maybe propped with a few pillows while he lays beside you, holding your cheek and kissing you with his irresistibly soft lips. He's spent hundreds on lip product and you realize that it is so worth it. And you don't know why but being able to grab onto his jacket and mess it up from it's usually perfectly pressed place was so hot. He knew was usually intertwined with your and one of his hand would trace any exposed skin he could find. If you have a tattoo, he's carefully pressing the tip of his finger to it and dragging over the ink to give you delightful goosebumps. Even playing with the hem of your pants or skirt with his long fingers and driving you crazy to the point where you ACTUALLY pull away. Of course, he's one for marks too. Can't help leaving a line up your jaw or neck. He thinks they look stunning and even preaches that they'd look better than any necklace you'd ever wear.

Tom: Kissing either goes two ways. He's either got you pinned down or you've got him. Walls seem to be a recurring make out spot among the house members because one of you has their back to the wall at least once a day. Laying down is nice too, but you don't really get that power your looking for. His teeth are sharp, not just his canine's. You swear his molar could rip apart bine but you only ever feel them when he's leaving marks on your flesh. When he's got you pinned to the wall, he'll hum deeply and guide closer to you, a knee between your thighs or even keeping you balanced between his waist and the wall. And he's so determined to keep you breathless that he nearly suffocated you as he holds tight to your hips. When you get him against the wall, you tend to squeeze his waist under his clothes, which gets a little chuckle out of him cause no girl he's gone out with has given him the same treatment he give them and he thinks it's absolutely adorable. His hands usually try to tangle in your hair. Keyword: Try. Your hair is as short, maybe even shorter, than his and it's hard to really get a grip of it when you kiss him so forcibly. And one of your hands usually has to move up to grab him by the collar to keep him down at your level. But the second you try to move down with the idea of leaving a few marks, he's growling. Like growling. Almost like a territorial dog. And it may be due to his monster DNA (that you know nothing about) but it just does something to your core that has him easily gripping the back of your head and pulling you back in. Whoever gets their back to the wall is usually split 50/50.