#I've only got like two weeks left of crafts that need doing

[kirby-the-gorb]

[putellas14]

Home for the Holidays (Alexia Putellas x Reader ficlet)

18. "cancelling all other plans so they can spend the entire holidays together."

Hope you don't hate me for being a few weeks late. This one's not the best but covid really took me out. Merry Christmas, dear friends. I hope 2024 is full of magic for you all.

"Are you excited to go visit your family for Christmas?" Lola asked you at the end of the last training before Christmas. This was your third year in Madrid and every Christmas, you left Spain to visit your family in Denmark. You usually looked forward to the time with them since you didn't get to go home often.

"Yeah!" you lied. "We're going to make cookies like we do every year and I've been on a crafting kick, so I made a bunch of pinterest-y crafts to give them." You hadn't told anyone but you were dreading going home this year. Not because you didn't love your family but because you didn't want to leave Alexia alone. Her mom and sister had gone on a vacation for a week to Japan and due to a volcanic eruption, they had gotten stuck there. So far, there was no news on whether they'd make it back this weekend for Christmas.

Not that anyone knew you and Alexia were dating. That you wanted to throw your traditions to the wind and start building new ones with Alexia.

"When do you leave?"

"In the morning. I have the first flight out at 6am."

"That's too early," Lola said, fake shuddering. "Merry Christmas, Y/N," she said, picking up her bags. "I hope you have a great time."

"Thanks, Lol. Merry Christmas." You smiled warmly at her as she walked away. You finished packing your bag and walked out to the parking lot. On the drive back to your apartment, you  tried calling Alexia. They had finished training  for two weeks yesterday and had a team Christmas party tonight. It surprised you to get her voicemail. Hanging up, you sighed, hoping she was alright. She loved Christmas normally and you knew it was incredibly hard for her to be without her family.

Once you were home, you turned on all the Christmas lights you'd put up. Bright colors and twinkly white lights illuminated your home, bringing a huge smile to your face. The Christmas tree in the corner was filled with the ugliest ornaments you could find. Garlands and tinsel were hung over every window. The older you got, the more time you spent away from home, the more you reveled in tacky Christmas décor.

An hour later, you were curled on the couch with a large bowl of soup, a cheesy Christmas movie on the television, and your puppy sprawled out next to you on the couch. As the couple on the screen slowly fell in love, your mind drifted to the woman you loved. And you started to plan. There was no way you could leave her alone at Christmastime. The thought of her alone dampened all your Christmas spirit.

The next morning, you packed up your bags and the puppy and made your way to the train station. When you should have been touching down in Copenhagen, you were stepping off the train in Barcelona. Although Zazu had only been to Barcelona once, he led you right to her apartment, tugging you along behind, anxious to see Alexia. You had a key to her apartment but this surprise felt worth knocking and waiting for her to open the door, so you kept it tucked away in the side pocket of your backpack.

She answered, a hoodie pulled down over her forehead, hair that had escaped her bun poking out around her face. The initial frown she had at being awoken broke into a smile and then tears.

"Oh, honey." You stepped into her and wrapped your arms tight around her. She burrowed her head into your shoulder, making her hood fall off. Zazu jumped onto both of your legs, barking in excitement.

"I needed you. And here you are," she whispered.

You brushed her hair back and kissed her forehead. "Come on. I'll make you some breakfast."

She hugged you from behind while you made food for both of you. Her arms tightened when you started pulling plates out of the cabinet. All you could do was giggle. Hungover Alexia was always so cuddly. Sad Ale was clingy. This Alexia was a combination of both of them.

“Are you going to let me go so we can sit at the table or do you want to sit on the couch?”

“Couch,” she mumbled.

"Carry this for me," you said, handing her one of the plates. You picked up the empty plate and took her free hand in yours for the short walk to the couch. Zazu had made himself comfortable on one end. His tail wagged excitedly when you walked closer to him. Skirting the coffee table, you put your plate down and then took Alexia's to set down. Sitting, you pulled her down next to you, letting your thigh rest against hers. Picking up her plate, you handed it to her. "Here you go, babe," you said gently.

You ate in silence, enjoying each other's presence after all these weeks apart. After breakfast, you both took a lazy shower. You washed her hair for her and let your hands wander. She told you she was beginning to feel half human by the time you got dressed. She asked to go for a walk with Zazu and you gladly agreed. After sitting on the train all morning, you needed some fresh air and exercise.

As you walked down the street towards Alexia's favorite coffee shop, you looped your arm through hers. Barcelona at Christmastime was a magic and you felt like you were walking in a dream. Zazu tugged excitedly at the leash even though he didn’t know where you were going. Multiple times, Alexia had to tug the leash to bring him back to the correct direction.

You took your coffees to the park, so Zazu could run freely for a bit. You cuddled up next to Alexia on the bench. The wind had picked up and you hadn't worn enough layers. She took her hat off and pulled it down over your ears.

"Thank you." You'd also made the mistake of getting an iced coffee. But when he said their special was an iced cardamom lavender latte, you couldn't resist it. It was also so good that you couldn't stop drinking it, despite how cold you were.

"So, what time do you leave for home?" she asked suddenly.

"I have a flight this evening." You traced small patterns on her arm.

"Today?" she asked sadly. "That's so soon."

"I know. I know. My mom was very annoyed that I pushed it even that long."

"Well, I'm really glad you were able to make this pitstop." She kissed your cheek, letting her lips linger a second longer than she should have in public. "I hated the idea of being alone."

"I hated the idea of you being alone too. Which is why I booked two tickets from here to Copenhagen. If I have to go home, you're coming with me."

"What?" she asked, sitting back in shock.

"Come with me," you said, taking her hand in yours. "I want to show you my life in Copenhagen. I want to wake up with you on Christmas morning."

"You're adorable." Throwing her arms around, she pulled you close. "Merry Christmas, Y/N."

"Merry Christmas, Ale." Before putting your arms around her, you let your fingers dance over the little velvet box in your pocket. Christmas in Copenhagen wasn't the only surprise waiting for Alexia this year.

[wexhappyxfew]

Hihihi!!!

I am absolutely floored by these prompts, seriously. So to start it off, I humbly request:

“this isn’t up for discussion. i know you’re used to looking out for yourself, but i need you to understand that you don’t have to live like that anymore. i’m here. for as long as i’m around, i’m going to come between you and anything that wants to hurt you.”

For Kennedy and Bucky if you feel so inclined. They are one of my fav couples (although it is so close let me tell you), but obviously only write if it speaks to you!

Can’t wait to see these pieces, Shannon!

-☀️

HI SUNSHINE ANON!!!! (enthusiastically waves) thank you so much for sending this in (plus your others, thank you so so much)! i got so excited seeing this kennedy x bucky request as i was already half-way through writing and realized how well things lined up when i got this request and decided to use it! thank you for the kennedy x bucky love truly!! they are seriously so fun to write and craft and getting to look at a more intimate, raw and emotional side of them here (with that lovely dose of angst and whump and comfort) was exactly what we needed with them! so i humbly present kennedy x bucky in the Stalag :) thank you so so much again! TRULY!! <33333

she'd fight a war herself

(a/n): HELLO FRIENDS!!!! if you recognize any of the few lines here and there from things i've posted related to kennedy and bucky here in the past few days, this is the piece! and the request really lined up with what i was going for here, so i combined the original kennedy x bucky piece i was working on with this one! and here we are! and im sobbing! okay! please enjoy! :)

"Knock, knock."

Kennedy's bruised knuckles tapped against the wooden door to the small library in their bunkhouse, where Bucky Egan was currently sat with one of those older wooden chairs pulled up against the window, staring out into the hazy afternoon. His large overcoat was wrapped around his body, hands shoved deep into the pockets, his hair a little more unruly than normal, and a sour look on his face.

Kennedy had been looking for him for at least an hour since she had left the group which had shifted outside - Annie and Buck's idea of 'getting some sunshine' into the group now that it was finally out.

Gray skies and storm clouds had been their friend for the past few weeks, with muddy pathways and cold winds. Now, with the sun out and a warm breeze in the air, there also seemed to be hope floating about.

Bucky, however, was here, sat inside, closed off, and completely alone. Bucky's eyes slowly shifted from the dusted window, his look both stern and far-off all at once, and his shoulders stood tall. She watched his eyes trail to her hand there on the door - the bruises, the ones she had earned herself, along with the one underneath her eye - and offered nothing but a small smile.

Ever since the kiss, in this very room, Bucky Egan had suddenly become everything.

At breakfast or dinner, where she tried to get herself by his side, or out when they managed to get outside, she'd find a way for just the two of them, to talk, to work through whatever the other was feeling, to take hold of the other's hand. Sometimes, when the nights were long and cold, she'd find herself in his bunk, soft kisses being shared back and forth between the two, his warm hands roaming her body underneath her overcoat and button-up and blanket, keeping her both sane and alive all at once. Things were different. And she tried to hold onto every bit of that in every way. The bruises though were different now. And Bucky had been a pistol about them ever since.

"Whatcha doing in here all alone?" Kennedy said, some of the voices outside coming through the walls, the sunshine coming in through the hazy window, half-reflecting off of Bucky's face in a way that made his skin glow in a way it hadn't in a whole, "I was looking for you." At those words, the corner of Bucky's lips curled upwards a bit. She always seemed to get him to grin.

"Just doing some thinking." Bucky said slowly, a nod to follow, "In my thinking spot." Kennedy chuckled and stepped into the room more, shoving her hands in the pockets of her poor, tattered A2.

"In your thinking spot, huh?" Kennedy said, tilting her head to the side, a small smile on her face, "What's bouncing around in your brain?"

Bucky watched her deeply for a moment, it felt like he was looking at her as intently as he could, as if memorizing her face, her dimples, her freckles, her hair the way it was (and it wasn't pretty). He seemed distracted, off-guard, on the low. Her smile fell and instead, worry began to consume her. Bucky was usually far from the person sitting in front of her now. Her heart pounded a bit.

Moving closer, Bucky looked up at her as she came to stand beside him - she offered an attempt at another smile - before reaching forward and running her fingers over those few loose, wild curls of hair against his forehead.

"What's going on?" she asked quietly, a bit more urgency to her voice, retracting her hand, the touch having been, evidently, both gentle and welcome, "You're never this quiet, Bucky, you're worrying me."

"C'mere." Bucky said, voice low and gruff as he reached out his hands and spread his knees a bit. Kennedy watched him for a moment, the desperation in his eyes, making her heart hurt a bit, as she stepped forward and settled between his lap and leg, wrapping her arm around the back of his neck and reaching up her other hand to cup his cheek.

Softly, she guided his face to her own and watched his eyes again, her thumb brushing gently on his stubbled skin. His hand found her waist, thumb brushing back and forth against her jacket as his other hand came to her knee, the warmth of his hand tingling her skin underneath her pants. It felt so natural to be like this, so close and intimate. If it weren't for the war and their circumstances, she would've said it felt like home.

But with Bucky, she was home.

No matter where they were.

"What's going on?" she asked quietly again, her voice soft as he continued to watch her, gripping her like his life depended on it.

Slowly, her leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her lips - soft, sweet and slightly desperate, but longing enough that her stomach flipped - she was still getting used to this between them. After everything they said to each other, that moment they shared. Pulling back, he watched her again. She offered a small smile.

"We can't just stay here forever." he said quietly, "This place. Now with the SS showing up." Bucky continued to hold her gaze, the look in his eyes both stern and persistent. He looked crazed deep-down inside. "After hearing what the British did…..those holes. We gotta find a way to do something. To get out. Or even just try….." Bucky whispered, his voice dropping, "There's so much more than this place, Kenny. I know that." Kennedy watched him, cheeks warmed from his touch and his presence and him. She slowly nodded.

"I know." she said softly back, "And we will. But for now, it has to be kept on the low. Nothing crazy. You don't want yourself hurt or killed."

"Just like they did to you?" Bucky said back to her, reaching up to take her hand on his face and gently hold it out beside him, fingers tracing the delicate, broken skin on her knuckles before looking back at her, "I don't want them touching you again." Her insides twisted warmly at his words, that protective bite to his voice that made her warm all over.

"I know, baby," she whispered quietly, leaning forward to press a kiss to his forehead, a sigh escaping his lips as he leaned his head back against the wall behind the chair, "we'll get through this. You know that." Bucky watched her, the corner of his mouth lifting upwards.

"How many more times do we have to say that before it's true?" he asked her quietly, his words almost hollow, like he was fighting to believe it, "I wish I was more like you with that." Kennedy watched him with a small smile and shrugged.

"Ask Annie Bradshaw and maybe she'd know. She's got quite the effect on a person." Kennedy said and Bucky managed to smile a bit at that.

"You've got quite the effect on me." he said, as she felt her cheeks warm at his words - something she was always trying to fight away - since when did she blush? Bucky continued to watch her and she let him; watching as his eyes explored her face, his hand coming up a few times to wipe back the ginger hair falling from the poorly done braids behind her head. His eyes rested a few times on her own eyes, before they'd fall to her lips or freckled cheeks and then back to her eyes. It seemed to calm him. Keeping him steady. She wanted that for him.

"I've never wanted to get out of a place more," Bucky whispered quietly, a catch almost in his voice, "you know that?" The thoughts just seemed to cycle and he seemed to spiral.

"I know." Kennedy whispered, reaching up to drag her fingers gently through his hair, his grip tightening on her waist, "We all do." Bucky watched her and leaned closer.

"Do you want kids?" he asked her, catching her the slightest bit off guard there - suddenly she felt every part of him touching her, his eyes on her face and she felt her body warm. Watching him for a moment, she nodded.

"Yeah," she said, "always have." Bucky suddenly seemed to grin at her, genuinely grin and she watched as he reached up and ran his fingers over the end of her braid.

"Bet they'd have your hair color. Bright red hair." Bucky said with a small chuckle, "Our kids." Kennedy watched her, her heart hammering in her chest, her eyes fighting to well with tears.

The thought of being a mother had always been a dream of hers - she had a girl in middle school tell her before that she didn't seem like someone who could be a mom. And Kennedy carried that quote with her everywhere she went. Even when she was dating boys from the country club and they'd tell her about the fortunes and promise rings of her future and the chances of what their kids would inherit. Even when she was home, broken-hearted over that loser from her father's business who had told her 'she was too much'. Kennedy always wanted to be a mother, always.

It was something inherent to her very being, to her entire make-up as a woman. To her.

"Your eyes." Kennedy said, testing the waters right back, her voice sounding strained and choked as she spoke, silently hoping Bucky didn't realize too much, "Definitely your eyes." Bucky met her gaze and smiled at her.

"Nah, nah," he said, "your eyes, my ears. Probably." At that, Kennedy let out a snort of laughter and sniffled a bit, looking towards him again.

"I don't want this to sound dumb, but I promised I'd never try to hide things from you…but, you want to have kids? With me?" she asked him quietly, watching as worry and concern built up in his eyes, straightening his shoulders a bit as he did so. She tried a joke. "But I'm a Red Sox fan." Bucky watched her, jaw set, eyes on her.

"I do." he said quietly, entirely serious, "I hope you know this-" gesturing between them, "isn't just nothing to me. You know that. I'm serious about you, Kenny. Why do you think I want to get out so bad? I sit here, day after day, knowing what we could have outside of this shit hole. I'm real serious about this. About us." Bucky continued to watch her. "You know that." Kennedy melted against him a bit, leaning closer, cupping his cheek as she tilted her head to match his.

"I know, I just…." she started, "I didn't know if I'd ever get the chance to be a mother in a world like this so….hearing you say that. It just, ya know, made me want it more. With you." Kennedy's big eyes trailed up to Bucky's and she watched him watch her back.

"Why'd you say it that way, Kenny?" Kennedy stared at him, those words from middle school ringing in her head. Over and over. Like a bell toll in the church, an echo off a never-ending cave wall.

"Someone, who clearly was very upset with their life, once told me I wouldn't make a good mother." Kennedy whispered quietly, "And I took it to heart and believed it. For a period of time. For a while." Bucky's eyes grew dark and his grip tightened on her.

"You still believe that shit?" Bucky asked her, voice louder than he seemed to want it to be.

"No." Kennedy said, "I used to let it get to me, but….not anymore. Not after being with this group. With you." Bucky watched her, his gaze softening a bit more as he watched her grin.

"Good." he said quietly, a silence falling between them as they watched each other, these small, shy smiles on their lips in a way Kennedy had never seen Bucky even be before. It was honestly enough to make her giddy inside.

"I just know our kids would be Red Sox fans." she whispered and she watched a wild grin appear on his face as he shook his head.

"No! Nah, nah, you've gone too far there," Bucky said, his face starting to glow, "the second they're able to walk, I'm taking them to a game, Yankees, alright? They're getting the playing cards, all that happy horseshit, okay?" Kennedy let out a laugh as Bucky held her closer.

"But what happens if they choose Red Sox, huh, what would you do?" she said, holding her chin high as Bucky smirked and shook his head.

"Wouldn't you like to know." he said softly back and Kennedy nodded with a grin, "Either way, you'd be the best mom those kiddos would ever have, I know that." Just hearing words like that, some deep and genuine and truthful from someone like Bucky made her heart race and her emotion take hold.

"I don't usually go soft on Red Sox fans anyway, but you might've gotten me, Kenny." Bucky whispered softly, catching her gaze as she stared at him. She brushed her thumb across his cheek again and leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips.

With how close they were, she couldn't help but feel him deepen the kiss there, this cracked-open rush of feelings enough for her to feel starved for him as his tongue swiped her bottom lip and a sigh left her lips.

She pulled herself as close as possible to him, wrapping her arms around his neck, her hands exploring his hair as she tilted her head to get more of him to her.

Breaking apart, slightly gasping for breaths of air, his lips danced across her jawline, dotting along her neck before he was there, sucking gently on a spot near her collarbone. It made her giddy, sitting here, despite the situation, with a man, tall, brooding, and a little goofy, kissing her neck and her of all people, like it was life itself.

It made her a little crazy inside - that he wanted her? He wanted a future, a life, kids…with her? Maybe it made her a little crazy, but it was true. Kennedy let out a giggle leave her lips and Bucky pulled back, eyes soft as he looked to her and grinned lazily.

"What are you laughing about?" he asked her, his voice making her insides twist again.

"Us." she whispered back, "You and me." Bucky watched her with a smirk.

"What about us?"

"Our futures." she said quietly, "God, imagine what our lives could be like."

"You see why I'm pushing the get-the-fuck out narrative now, right?" he said and Kennedy cackled at his words and nodded. Bucky watched her fondly and grinned.

"Well, since the door has been shoved wide open, no longer just a foot in the door, you gotta hit me with those baby names, Kenny, let me have 'em." he said, winking at her and grinning effortlessly, like some cool guy in a movie, "I gotta know what little Egans we'll have."

"You're leaving the naming to me?" she asked him with a laugh and Bucky grinned.

"Hell yeah I am," he said with a wider smile, "seriously, what are they." Kennedy softened and then smiled.

"I always thought Florence was a pretty name. For a girl - Flo for short. Margaret - Maggie for short. Charlotte - Charlie for short." Kennedy said and Bucky grinned, "For boys, well…..Gregory for sure. I've always loved Clark or James, Jimmy for short. Robert….Bobby for short."

"You sure are a nicknames type of girl aren't you?" Bucky said and Kennedy grinned.

"What can I say?" she said, "I thought your name was actually Bucky before I found out that was only a nickname and your name was actually Major John Egan. I was convinced, I'll tell ya." Bucky chuckled at that and smiled at her, reaching up to run some strands of hair back away from her face. He watched her in that sickeningly sweet way that made every part of her body melt in a way she couldn't describe.

"What'd they do to you?" Bucky whispered, reaching up to brush his calloused thumb near the tender part of her bruise, his touch gentle on her skin and her body inviting his touch; she felt in every lifetime, she'd invite his touch like a warm spark, a match with a flame waiting to blow.

Kennedy's smile fell as she watched him - the memories raw, it all seemed fresh in her mind and usually nightmares chased reality away. Instead this time, it was both a mix of reality and nightmares that were her everyday waking truth.

"I knew those Kraut doctors would have something for Bessie's cough." Kennedy whispered, pretty mater-of-factly to him softly - she liked this, whispering with him like things were a secret and that for once it was just the two of them - and she liked hearing his voice whispered back, so low and quiet and soft on her ears. She loved his voice. Bucky watched her, thumb brushing on her bruised cheek gently as he did so. She wanted him to look at her like that forever, however long forever could be if it were him.

"I would've done it for you," Bucky said quietly with a nod, "scrounged it for you-"

"No." Kennedy whispered softly, her eyes flashing to his, "You've already done enough for me, Bucky-"

"You got hurt, Kennedy." Bucky said, his voice thick with emotion, choked somewhere in his throat, "They hurt you." Bucky's eyes flashed with pain and Kennedy shut her mouth slowly.

"I know that." Kennedy whispered, "I've gotten hurt before. All the time. Even when I was a kid. And for a friend, for someone like Bessie, I'd do it again." Bucky watched her still.

"They hurt you." Bucky repeated, this time his voice firmer, but shaky, like he was standing out on a balance beam, waiting for the wind to take him and tip him towards the abyss.

Silence fell between them and suddenly Kennedy felt more emotional than she had in days. He cares, her mind seemed to scream, he's saying this because he cares! But her mind couldn't seem to make sense of it, she couldn't seem to get that picture in her mind. She was still in that flightless mode, that build-up-your-walls-and-you-are-fine mode.

"I know." Kennedy whispered her voice shaky, "But I'm okay." Bucky's eyes moved back and forth frantically between hers for a second before focusing on the bruise on her cheek again.

Being this close to him, staring into his gaze, his eyes, knowing that if felt like he could see the deepest parts of her, scared her. In so many ways. In ways she didn't want to have to think about.

Sitting in this silence with him wasn't something she was entirely used to - and she couldn't get her mind to work, to get words formed on her lips. Instead, all she could do was stare right back at him. Convince him with a look that she was okay.

"I don't want you to have to worry about me." Kennedy said quietly, looking up slowly at Bucky with a shy look, "You shouldn't have to worry." Bucky's face moved with a near-grimace, a pained expression flourishing on his features in a way that made Kennedy want to eat her words.

"But I will." Bucky said, his voice louder this time, "Kennedy, look, I…." Bucky's eyes trailed towards the window again, before pulling back to her, "You know, me worrying about you. It….it isn't up for discussion. In my eyes. I know you're used to looking out for yourself, but I need you to understanding that you don't have to live like that anymore." Kennedy's eyes watered.

"I'm here," Bucky said, cupped her cheek firmer this time, looking right into her eyes, desperation flooding his own, "for as long as I'm around, I'm going to come between you and anything that wants to hurt you. Okay?"

"Bucky…." she whispered, but he shook his head and adjusted his grip on her before leaning closer to her.

"They hurt you, Kennedy," Bucky whispered, "and the thought of them laying a single fucking hand on you makes me wanna lose my mind. Touching you. Because you were doing something for a crew member-"

"I don't want you hurt because of me." Kennedy told him quietly, watching as his eyes flicked to hers, pausing mid-sentence.

"Kennedy, I'd taking a fucking bullet for you," Bucky said, watching her with a steady gaze, "I'd do anything for you." Bucky grew quiet. Kennedy watched him back with big eyes.

"Fuck, Kennedy, I love you, I'm in love with you," Bucky whispered, looking up into her eyes, with the purest form of grief and pain and love swirling in his vision, "you worry about the people you love. I'm always gonna worry. Even if you're right beside me."

Kennedy's heart slammed against her chest as she sat wrapped in his arms, breathing the same air he breathed, watching those eyes, memorizing each freckle on his face, every time the muscles moved in his face to make him smile or frown.

Love was a word that had physically hurt her to even say in the past - to her mom, her dad, her brother, to those few guys she had dated and sworn promises and lives with.

Love had never been a word she used well or even understood well.

With Bucky though, she felt she understood love in every which way. In ways that were still to be explored. And no one had ever looked at her with a love like he had - even when she had come to the Stalag, dried blood up half her face, dirt and mud caking her form, starving for life and food and touch, barely being able to acknowledge anything but a bed for a few days, craving everything that was both human and not.

Scorning the world and the place they were in, and every single person.

And Bucky had been by her side and fed her soup and told her stories and held her in the dark as the nightmares and reality seemed to clash in her mind, wrapping her in calming words and blankets made of nothing but thin wool and telling her everything that came to his mind.

It had been Bucky. It'd always be Bucky.

"I'm so in love with you Bucky, you don't even know," Kennedy managed out in a sped up version of what her mind had managed to come up with, "I love you so much. And I don't want you hurt." A tear squeaked out down her face as he watched her.

Slowly, their foreheads met in the small center of space between them, inches between them as Bucky pulled her as close as he physically could to him, the clothes on their very bodies almost too much between them even now.

Slowly and almost achingly, Bucky pressed his lips to hers and she let herself go in that moment. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, hands mused into his hair, his own hands pushed up underneath her shirt and warming her cold skin, dancing near her bra strap and holding her in such a delicate manner, she was sure she could cry about it 10 years in the future.

Bucky's lips were soft, but hungry and by the time his tongue had slipped inside, she couldn't think about anything else. His soft sighs into her mouth, her own mind going a thousand miles a minute with him there so close to her, Kennedy was sure she had entered a world she never wanted to leave.

They came apart gasping for breaths of air before his lips were trailing her jawline, before settling on her neck, and she giggled, curling into his own neck - his jacket nearly smelled like home.

Like Thorpe Abbotts - that hug they'd shared that long night when bombs were going off overhead and Bucky couldn't seem to contain his words or his alcohol.

And God, she had stared at him and sworn she would never think of him again, but here she was, the two of them holding each other in a way she'd never been held before and was thinking of every outcome of their lives past this very point in time.

Bucky's teeth grazed a bit at that soft spot on her neck, before he softly pulled back and kissed her skin gently, peppering that same spot with soft kisses that made her grin into him.

Then, she couldn't help it - giddy with the feel of him there with her and the way he had kissed her, so desperately and hungry, she let out a laugh into his neck and he seemed to feel much of the same of whatever energy she was feeling, because he laughed, too. A low rumble that she felt against her cheek, from his throat, which made her hold onto him so tightly that she never wanted to let go.

"Bucky?" Kennedy whispered against his neck, listening to his heart pulsate - she loved the feel of him right here beneath here - every inch.

"Kenny?" Kennedy pressed a soft kiss to his neck and watched goosebumps appear and a shiver run over his entire body.

"I've never loved someone more than you." she whispered quietly. Bucky tilted his head back and watched her and seeing his eyes so big and soft and there, right in front of her, made her suddenly feel like everything was worth it.

"I love you," he whispered, pressing a peck to her lips before pulling back and smiling at her, "the thinking spot has never let a person down now, has it?"

And then, she was laughing again, clasping a hand over her mouth as she launched her head back.

Laughing with Bucky, God, she'd fight a war herself just to live in this moment with him every night there was in her life.

[a-shrieking-cloud-of-bats]

DF Posting: KingChannels - Year 3

Here we are again. Much belated on account of me having an awful head cold for most of the past two weeks.

The beginning of the defensive layer, which, as time has gone on, has only gotten less solid. Regardless I think having room to retreat behind corners when archers come a knocking will be helpful.

We left last year with the trade depot Almost complete, and the defensive layer, starting up. Happy to say we made a lot of progress on both, but a lot happened so we'll start from the top.

Early on the elven caravan arrived; I personally have no abnormal distaste for the elves (even if selecting everything in a bin except the bin is obnoxious), but we didn't have any trade goods because I'd not decided to, you know, make any, on account of sheets being wanted next year. So we didn't really get anything, not that they brought much. Not even very many animals. Very dissapointing honestly. Didn't even get a screenshot.

Our starter library. We probably won't need it anymore after we start getting the tower constructed but that could be a while. I set a scholar to work here after I made it as well, and installed a table later on.

In the meantime we made a starter library for our scholarly pursuits to begin in earnest, rather then waiting for the tower to start construction. It's small, but it'll work. We assigned Ingish Arzesidan as scholar, our old woodcutter. She honestly loves it and is constantly getting good thoughts from debating and pondering, though these are somewhat offset by her bad thoughts from not practicing a craft. Thems the breaks. Around this time I also started making clothes from our pig tail fiber, to ensure our in fort child would have clothing. Also so anyone whose clothes rot off can get a new set.

Our first scholar.

After all that hubbub we almost immediately got a migrant wave; 9 dwarves, 2 melee dwarves for the military, and a High Master Surgeon, very nice. This reminded me we needed to make a hospital. My idea is to build it on the ground floor, likely near the cistern, hopefully out of the way of any trouble in the event anyone needs to be brought to it during combat. It'll also make getting the water from the cistern to the nearly required hospital well less of a pain in the butt.

The first two are our melee dwarves and the last is the surgeon.

Around the time of the migrant wave we got another Child Strange Mood; it finished around the time we finished sorting otu the migrant wave as Ablel Regezar only grabbed two apple wood logs. He made, adorably, a toy axe, Desiszisang. During the course of this year I caught several dwarf children playing with it so at least it's getting use!

The fort's most popular toy. And... only toy, now that I'm thinking about it.

Of note; all this happened in Early Spring. This was a very rapid fire series of events, but things slow down a bit henceforth. Not before finding a mysterious vomit trail from the trade depot to the first floor of the fortress entrance. Probably a dwarf that'd been underground long enough to get cave adapted. I didn't see any sign of combat, anyway, so it's not an injury at least. Regardless the fort now has its first streak of green mess. There will be many more.

Every fort, by the end of the run, is usually just covered in blood and puke. This is small potatoes.

Taking up the next large swathe of time was mostly me digging to find ores, rather then for fortress construction, with the completion of a stockpile I was digging near the metal processing area to store ore and coal. During this time I'd noticed unhappy dwarves were looking pretty intimidating, I think it hit a high of 16 which is more then a third of our fort. You've gotta nip this in the bud so in a mostly ineffectual attempt to do that I made some meals. Mostly quarry bush leaves, but higher food quality = happier dwarf. Unfortunately we don't really have a lot of edible wildlife, I've only seen ravens and they're too small to butcher and a pain to catch besides. Maybe one day we'll be eating raven eggs, but it seems like a bit too much trouble for now.

all of my mining floors start like this. I want people to be able to move through them well in the event I use them for something more important then burial site.

We hit Lignite and Iron shortly below where I started digging exploratorily. Very good sign; if we can find flux we've got steel, which is fantastic. That'll handily take care of most of our fortress defense needs, at least as far as we can hope for. We also found kaolinite which will make us some high quality ceramic stuff when I set it up. I also intend to use the exploratory digging tunnels for most of our burial slabs; it just feels appropriate to me.

During all this, the work on the defensive layer was moving along. The windows on the left are Gem windows, and we'll be layering some fortifications over hte front of them to ensure noone just breaks in through those windows. Eventually patrols or watch animals will keep an eye out through there to let us know when goblins or kobolds are skulking around. Hopefully, anyway.

It was around this time I realized my military squads had Never Stopped Training. I looked into a bit of stuff regarding the new UI and it turns out they've been on manual training, never stop mode, for like a year now. That's probably why everyone's so pissed off. I fix that and indeed the bad moods at the fort start dropping, thankfully. THe summer migrant wave also hit, 8 dwarves. A high master metalcrafter, a high master furnace operator, and a middling papermaker. Normally the papermaker would be on hauling duty, but given we're making a library... hmm. Two randos from the wave got drafted into our military squad making an even 10. Training can Really start now. Especially now that they're doing advanced training and teaching and sparring and such. They don't do that on manual evidently.

Once more, oru new Local Celebrities. I also assigned another dwarf to scholarship around this time I believe; Kadol Usenvabok. We'll probably worry more about the scholars when the tower goes up because if I keep posting dwarf thoughts we're gonna hit the image cap.

Seconds after this migrant wave the high master metalcrafter enters a secretive mood. Looks like we're getting a legendary metalcrafter. Honestly sort've stinks; he was allmost there anyway. Regardless, he goes to work. After some livestock butchery, he makes an Artifact Silver Chain out of Horse Leather, Chert Blocks, a Silver Bar, and cut bloodstones. Pretty nice sounding, and we can definitely find a use for it somewhere. Probably put it in a well, but maybe we can find some sort've novel use for it in the tower. It Is silver after all.

Pretty Good.

As we moved into autumn, I realized we were running out of food for some reason. Had the realization we weren't growing any plump helmets in autumn for some reason, so I fixed that. Also set about to making another still, as the population was getting quite hefty and a single still probably wouldn't be cutting it for much longer. As time went on it stabilized, and later in the year restocked itself so we're good again. Crisis Averted.

Shortly before the caravan arrived there were officially enough farmers in the fort to qualify for a farmer's guild. I immediately set about making one of the rooms I Dug out for specifically this purpose into a farmer's guild, and everyone was happy about it. Farmer dwarves will talk about farming in there, along with just generally socializing. It'll slowly increase their skills in various farming aptitudes. It's great.

The Dwarven caravan arrives annnnnd I forgot to make trade goods. God damn. I quickly hammer out some rock rings and buy some iron bars, using them to make a weapon for the militia. Need stuff sooner then later, and we're not exactly short on iron. The liason requested Amulets, which is great for us and I Immediately set on that to avoid this problem next year. I make our standard selection of military grade metals and silver.

Around this time enough work on the cistern got done for me to be comfortable draining the pond, finally. I wanted to get constructed stuff in there sooner rather then later because... I like constructed stuff. No dirty hole water here.

the top floor hadn't been walled in yet but I did take care of that over the rest of the year.

I love a bit of fluid mechanics in DF so this excited me. I've actually not done a lot of it, but I love the concept. We'll probably need another pool or two before it'll have enough loaded in to make its way to the hospital well, but it rains all the time here, so it shouldn't be too long. Since we've got enough standing water in the cistern too (about a full z level), we can just dump in whatever we can get and it'll be stored too, so that's nice.

Anyway the autumn migrant wave hits annnnnnd we got two dwarves. I forgot I had the migrant cap lowered to a pitiful 50 due to a previous fort I ran, so that's my bad, Yet Again. I raise it to 100. The two dwarves were not notable in any way. I also assign a scribe to our library to copy the books we do have.

As we trundle on towards winter, a child is posessed, which has become a commonplace enough occurrence that I honestly wasn't particularly interested. More livestock died to feed the leather requirement, and he got wood, bones and leather.

Before he finished his artifact, however, a werehare broke into the depot. He immediately bites down on Logem Urvaddatan, our freshly recruited high master surgeon, and shakes him to bits.

So much for that hospital. KingChannelses first fatality. Brutal.

There were two militadwarves nearby at the time so they immediately set to attacking the werehare (with picks?? why do you people have picks equipped you're not miners), and he goes down pretty unceremoniously, being an unarmored, roughly human size, enemy.

During the scuffle however, a militadwarf was bitten. This means they are now a werehare, and they Will be hostile to their fellow dwarves when they turn.

The bitten militiadwarf on the left, Iden Eshtanmubun and more competent combat on the right.

Me, not willing to create isolation chambers for bitten dwarves, and not wanting to have to deal with this guy popping off every quarter of a year, elect to banish him. Iden Eshtanmubun has no family in the fort, so nobody is going with him. He's upset, but what's he gonna do, come back as a werehare to take revenge? Hopefully not. He was actually also a aprt of the wave the surgeon came in on, so I guess the wave was just cursed. We'll have to keep an eye on Ablel Dumatdeleth, I Suppose.

After all of the drama and our first death, the child finishes his artifact, a horse bone pick. Maybe someone will actually use it. I kind've don't care right now kid I'm sorry.

I am normally quite happy about equippable artifacts, even if they're shit, but a pick is pretty hard to equip on purpose and they all behave the same regardless of material.

After processing all this I realized our defensive layer is pretty much done, our wall is done, our trade depot is done, it's time to build that overhang. I don't think the werehare climbed in over the wall but better safe then sorry. Unfortunaetly, while trying to do this, I realize my wall is too close to the edge of the map to build an overhang. So we have to rebuild half of it. Ugh.

In the shadow of death we find.... more menial labor. As usual, I guess.

I immediately stat making another layer of the wall on the relevant sides inside the fort. We'll worry about tearing down the outside layer later. I'd rather have a wall people can climb over then no wall at all. This in and of itself takes about til the end of the season, so we'll carry on with other stuff, though the death was the last major event of the year.

Other then some boring logistical stuff (we ran out of chert I can't color coordinate until I mine more rarrrr), the rest of the year was pretty quiet. We found some Green Jade, a 20 value gem, which is Very nice, we found more iron on the living floor, while expanding it for future waves, which I mined out, and our scribe made a copy of our one book, The Way of the Path of the Moon. Or whatever. It was something like that.

As the year drew to a close, the baby born in fort grew to a child and learned to walk on his own. He is no longer at risk of being used as a shield by his mother, and they ran out into the snow and immediately got pissed off about being snowed on. Thanks kid. She can now harvest and haul stuff, so she'll be a minor help for the next.... 15 years. Frankly if we see her grow to be an adult that alone is a fantastic run.

Baby Lolor Rimtarilir, like all dwarves, immediately knows where the clothes are upon gaining locomotion. She's also pissed off because of the snow. Get in line Lolor.

Along with the baby becoming independent, our initial Scholar, Ingish, became an astronomor. He's officially studied the book about the moon's path enough to gain a title. Our mental pursuits are looking up.

A monumentous occasion given the goal of our fort. We need more eggheads. They're chopping a tree right now but rest assured they are very intelligent.

And that's that. A death, a lot of construction and a working cistern; that will continue, but we are pulling up on the end of Surface construction not involving the tower, at least, maybe another couple of years? Hopefully we'll have sterling silver production in hand by then.

Next years goals are finally get that cistern loaded up with water and giving our dwarves an indoor well, Finish The Damn Wall, and hopefully find flux and start steel production. Also hopefully we find silver. I guess if we can't find any silver on site a ceramic tower might be good. And very silly. Same color anyway. We'll see.

Until Next Year. Our fortunes rise and fall together.

[sirfrogsworth]

Looking Forward

If I trust my brother... and he did my dad's will properly... and set up my trust correctly... then I should be able to stay in the house for roughly 2 years.

If I trust my brother.

Then I can either sell the house and use that money for a small apartment or try to find a roommate situation to help me stay in the house a little longer. The nice thing about paying the mortgage is I can get most of that money back if I ever do sell the house. It's almost like a savings account with all my stuff inside.

Let's just hope the property value doesn't plummet for some reason. Though it has been around the same amount for many years.

I like living in my house. It's what I've known for 30 years. But being alone in the house is going to be a hard adjustment. After two years (or sooner) I may want to move near Katrina or Delling so I am closer to a support system. I wish we could all live next door to each other. Or live on a farm/ranch situation. And instead of chickens it is just a bunch of free range corgis.

I tried convincing Katrina to build a pool house, but she has a small backyard and no pool. HOWEVER... Apparently Florida has a lot of "mother-in-law suites." I had no idea that had a name, but I could be Katrina's mother-in-law. I have the skill set to guilt trip, make passive-aggressive comments, and judge how she raises her future kids. (And any other outdated stereotypes I've learned from 80s comedians.)

But I also like the idea of having a roommate. I could accommodate a single person or a small family. And I'd love to have an animal of some kind around. We have a huge fenced-in area left over from Otis.

I think I could offer someone a pretty sweet living situation. I have a full basement apartment that I reside in and so the entire upstairs is available for people to live in. I could charge cheaper rent than a cheap apartment in exchange for helping with chores that I struggle to do.

There is plenty of furniture and appliances ready to use. Full laundry room. I've got a really nice home theater in the living room so they can watch movies in style. I also have a few hundred TV series and several thousand movies on Plex. They get a full kitchen and bathroom to themselves. Plenty of garage space and a long driveway to park vehicles. They can have up to 5 rooms to do whatever in. They could do 3 bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen, and a small den area. My mom liked the den because she could watch her Judge Judy shows while my dad watched JAG in the living room.

If they don't have a family, they could convert 2 of the bedrooms into office space or craft rooms or S&M dungeons. They can decorate any way they'd like. But they have to keep the sex swing clean so I can use it. Not for sex--I just enjoy centripetal forces. And they'll have great privacy as I will be in the downstairs apartment. They'd only see me if I exit the house or if they invite me to dinner or movie night.

All they would have to pay is whatever I can't cover. I'd estimate in the $600-$800 range once the trust fund runs out. Plus the chores like cleaning and yard duty. That's a good deal, right?

The only downside is the house is in a deteriorating neighborhood. Businesses are closing and people are moving away. Our street is pretty isolated so there isn't much danger or crime. But we are adjacent to a dangerous neighborhood and the schools aren't great. That said, while there isn't much around here, in St. Louis you are always ~25 minutes from anything you need. The highway is literally down the street so driving to anywhere is fairly hassle free.

Also, I'd be happy to lend out the car for transport to a job. I'll only need it to get groceries every few weeks. They'd have to get added to my insurance and help with gas and maintenance.

Soooo... yeah, I think I have a lot to offer with my house.

They do have to be okay with my big subwoofer rattling things. The sound doesn't really travel through the floor, but the vibrations can. I can tone it down if they are sleeping though.

Oh! We also have a huge workshop on the property too. It could be used for working on cars or woodworking or an art space. It has electricity, lighting, heating and is perfect for anything that requires getting dirty. If that makes sense.

One idea I have been considering is seeking out an unhoused queer individual who was kicked out or is struggling to afford a decent place. If their parents don't want them, maybe I could provide a safe place. Things are so scary for LGBTQ+ folks right now. Especially in Missouri. St. Louis is a pretty blue city, but Missouri is a blood red state. If I could do something small for someone like that, I would be happy to help. Could be mutually beneficial.

So those are all of my thoughts and ideas as of now.

Again, if I trust my brother, I should have a decent amount of time to figure things out.

If things go sideways, I might be screwed.

So far he seems to be doing all the things he should be doing to get me sorted.

I'm going to choose to trust him.

With my life.

Oof.

[whumping-valentine]

🦌 Fawn and Hunter - Part 14 🦌

"The Apocalypse"

Content: ??? Idk this is kinda tame. Nothing whumpy happens. I suppose Stockholm syndrome and captivity, mayhaps. Oh also people die but that's whatever lolll.

3,200 words

Hey y'all, it's time for part 14! I meant to get this out like over a week ago now but I got distracted by drawing because I'm trying a new art style and am absolutely obsessed with it.

Since I've gotten lots of followers since the last part's release, here's the Masterlist if you wanna read it!

As always, I apologize for my writing quality 😓

Enjoy! 🛸

     Severin's adaptation to werewolf life in a cult was difficult and surreal, to say the least. Not to mention scary. No one had yet realized he wasn't actually a part of the pack, though some have commented on his unfamiliar smell. The trio assured them he'd been here for a while now. Agnes and Anthony's rank was enough to keep them from prying any further.

     The good news was none of this speculation had gotten back to Ethel. If she heard of the suspicions and wanted to check it out for herself, Severin would be a goner. Surely she'd also figure out her two top dogs were behind it, too. That wouldn't be good for anyone.

     They've made it by for a week now, and news was starting to circulate around Severin's spacecraft…

-----

     “I'm here at the sight of the crash in the small town of Woodmar. An apparent UFO has wrecked in the middle of the woods. Authentic, or hoax? Let's find out.” A news reporter spoke. She and the cameraman inspected the wreckage while commentating.

     By now, it had run out of power, so none of the technology worked. While the craft might have been able to be explained away as an art project, the destruction it left in its wake didn't have the same level of excusability. As soon as this story got out, it was sure to gain traction all over the internet. It was the most definitive proof of extraterrestrial life the world had ever seen, and it was right here, up close and personal.

    Both the reporter and cameraman got noticeably more excited and scared as they inspected. It got harder and harder to pass off as anything other than the truth of what it was: a UFO. The two of them talked about how they wished it was a live broadcast instead of a pre-recording, they wanted the world to see this immediately!

     In the middle of the reporter's sentence, the microphone's signal was unexpectedly cut off, and the camera stopped working completely. The two inspected their devices, unaware of the creatures who stalked them from behind the trees.

     In an instant, both the reporter and the cameraman were shot dead.

     A pair of aliens emerged from behind the bushes, guns in hand as they approached the human corpses. They looked down on them in scorn before inspecting the ship.

     “Oh, of course." One of the aliens groaned, "You know who's ship this is? It's Severin's!”

     “I always knew he wasn't cut out for this." The other shook their head, "Should we tell The Council?”

     “No, of course not. We cannot let them know someone has already fumbled the mission, they will think poorly of us all. It's not good that the humans are already suspicious of our plans. We need them to be oblivious, at least for a little while longer.”

     “What do you suggest we do?”

     “There is not anything that we need to do. It wasn't a live broadcast. All we need to do is destroy the camera, and the evidence is gone. By the time the news station realizes the reporters they sent are missing, it'll be too late. We won't need to hide anymore.”

     “We’re already here, aren’t we? We’re already infiltrating. It’ll only take a few days now before we have control over this pathetic planet. By the time The Council arrives to survey, the human race will already be enslaved and ready to serve the Empire.”

     “I sure hope so.” they said, "So long as the fuck up doesn't fuck it up anymore than they already have..."

----

     Hunter let out a sigh as they awoke, groaning as they stretched their arms, bones cracking.

     “You sure slept in.” Fawn mumbled, already wide awake, sitting with their hands cupping their head, “Though maybe it’s 8 am and I’m the one up early. Who knows.”

     “Mm. You sound depressed.” Hunter mumbled, “It's day 40, you know? Hooray, give it up for day 40!” They cheered sarcastically.

     Fawn sighed and rubbed their face, “Oh, human life is so short. I can't believe I'm wasting away my precious days trapped here doing nothing! My precious, sweet young days! Why couldn't it have been when I'm older, at least then my glory days would've been behind me!”

     Hunter chuckled, though it was more sad, “Glory days are a myth. Don't worry about your youth. Some people peak early, others late, and some not at all. Some people die before their good days. Some never had a chance in the first place.”

     “Yeah, because people like you took it away from them.”

     “I know.” Hunter said, though it wasn't remorseful nor regretful. It was simply an admission, or acknowledgement. “I won't pretend to be a good person. I'm not. Though… I do wish I could've done things differently.”

     “What, you expect me to feel sympathy for you, or something?”

      “No, of course not. I'm not looking for pity, I don't want pity. I'm just stating how I feel. How you feel about that in return is up to you, I don't fucking care.”

     “Really? Because it sure sounds like you do.”

     Hunter sighed, “Look… this isn't easy for me to say, but I'll finally tell the truth for once. I like you, Fawn. Well, not romantically or anything like that, but I… I enjoy your company.”

     Fawn wasn't sure how to respond to that.

     “Jesus, I say something sentimental for once in my life and you look at me like I'm insane.”

     “Well…”

     “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m already insane.”

     “You’re a murderer.”

     “I know.”

     Neither spoke another word. 

     One of the members walked into view with two plates of food.

     “Oh, day 41, even better!” Hunter said. The member placed the plates on the floor, before introducing themself sheepishly.

     “Um… hi. My name is Severin. I'm… from space?” He said, awkwardly pointing upwards.

     “You're an alien?” Fawn questioned.

     “Shh, not so loud! I'm… not supposed to be here. I'm planning on leaving soon... with… two of my friends. They told me they wanted you to come with us.”

      “What, the two people who took us here in the first place? And now they’re making you do the risky job of getting us out? Yeah, friends that I’d definitely trust.”

     “You don’t understand- ugh- look, do you want out or not?”

     “Of course I do! Are you kidding me?”

     Severin unlocked the door, “Then follow me and stay quiet.”

     Fawn's eyes widened. Oh, this was happening fast. They quickly, yet cautiously with suspicion, stepped out of the cell. Hunter hopped to their feet to follow.

     “Can we leave this one here?” Fawn whispered. Hunter folded their arms, and Severin shook his head before hurriedly rushing both of them out.

     He snuck them up the stairs where Anthony and Agnes were waiting to help keep cover. The three acted like a shield, even though there wasn't anyone else around. Agnes and Anthony had managed to get them to leave the area due to their height on the hierarchy. They'd said Ethel wanted them for something. Once that was figured out a lie, it'd be over for them.

     Ethel will surely find out about all of this and won't be pleased in the slightest, but the twins made their decision to leave no matter the cost. Once a nice distance away, Agnes and Anthony took off their masks, heaving a sigh of relief.

     Agnes had long dark brown hair that looked choppy and uneven. Freckles lined her face, her eyes were tired and grey.

     Anthony had short light brown hair, that was a slight bit lengthy and very, very messy. Just like Agnes he too had freckles.

     “Oh, wow. You guys look… normal.” Fawn said.

     “Huh? Why?” Agnes questioned, “What did you think we looked like?”

     “I dunno, like werewolves, I guess.”

     “What do you mean ‘like werewolves’?”

     “I don’t know, like all hairy, or something.”

     “Is that racist?” Anthony asked.

     “I don’t know, you’re the werewolf, you tell me!”

     “Listen,” Agnes said, changing the subject, “We may be out, but we aren't safe, and we never will be. Anthony and I were Ethel's top members, when she realizes we're gone, she's gonna come and find us. Especially once she and the rest of the pack also notice the humans are missing, and we gave them false directions, and then the rest of the whole Apocalypse stuff…”

     “So… what do we do now?” Fawn asked.

     Anthony shrugged, “I dunno. Try to survive, I guess.”

     “We need some kind of plan.” Agnes said, “Ethel will find us, and she'll be angry.”

     “And the other invaders have to know I've messed up badly by now…” said Severin.

     Fawn clasped their hands together, “Welp, it sure sucks to be you guys. See ya!”

     Agnes scoffed and folded her arms, “Do you really think you're safe? You and your friend here are more screwed than we are.”

     “W- okay, first of all, they're not my friend, and secondly… I'm still leaving.” they said, and turned to leave, walking away.

     I didn't call it the Great Human Extinction for nothing.” Anthony yelled out to them.

     Fawn stopped and turned, “And why did you call it that?”

     "Why do you think?”

     “Well… considering I’ve seen werewolves, vampires, and now aliens, I’m gonna guess an overthrow of Earth?”

     “Pretty much, yeah.” Agnes confirmed, “Worst case scenario is you die. Best case scenario is you’ll no longer be human by the end of this. Or both. Both is highly likely.”

     “Well that’s great to hear.”

     “If you don’t end up dead or a non-human, you’ll be enslaved by my people.” Severin said.

     “You guys are the best at delivering good news.”

     “See? You're screwed, too. We're in this together.” Agnes said.

     “I didn't ask to be in this in the first place!”

     “Do you think anyone asked to be in this? No, we didn't. Our chances are stronger together, so you can either go and fend this off alone, or bare the storm with us.”

     “Ugh.” Fawn groaned, “Fine.” They said, folding their arms. Everyone looked to Hunter.

     “What about you?” Agnes asked.

     Hunter responded, “Bold of you to assume I have anything better going on in my life.”

     “Well then, we have a group at least.” Anthony said, “that's a start, right?”

      “Barely.” Agnes said, “Let's get out of these woods, first and foremost. We'll go from there.”

     And so, the group of five made their way through the forest. Anthony was anxiously trying to rip apart his mask, Agnes distracted herself by gazing up at the trees, and Severin jumped at every cracking branch. Hunter looked unbothered, and Fawn felt like they were running a marathon from how fast their heart was beating.

     As they walked, they could see a building up ahead through the trees. They could feel their heart flutter as they picked up their speed. Once their feet hit the concrete and they knew where they were, they took off without a second thought.

     They ran down the street as fast as their legs could carry them, running all the way up to an average, inconspicuous house. It was small and feeble, but by God, it was home.

     Fawn nearly burst the door down as they unlocked it with a hidden key. The first thing they did was collapse onto their couch, and began sobbing. They weren’t sure if it was out of relief, fear, sadness, or all of the above. Probably all of the above.

     Agnes, Anthony, and Severin followed them inside, while Hunter stood in the doorway. They rubbed their arm awkwardly as Fawn cried, feeling… strange. Guilty? Did they feel guilty? They felt intrusive just being in the doorway, so they turned around and sat in their front yard.

     After a minute, Fawn’s cries slowly dwindled until they were left sniffling. They felt like they could fall asleep right there as they were. They were exhausted in every sense of the word, and now for the first time in months, they felt they could truly, finally relax. They were home. On their couch. It felt like everything could be okay again…

     If it weren’t for the whole apocalypse thing.

     Fawn took in a deep breath, exhaling it in a mix of a sigh and a groan. They pushed themself up, sitting criss-crossed on the couch. They rubbed their eyes under their glasses, then just sat. Sat and stared at the dirty carpet of their living room floor.

     Nothing would ever be the same again, nor would it ever be how they’d hoped. All of their plans, their dreams, their entire life, it was gone. It didn’t matter if they were still trapped with Hunter at the cabin, or by the werewolves, or even if they were right here back home on their couch. It would all end up the same. Nothing mattered anymore. They wondered if it ever did.

     They stood up from the couch after what felt like hours, and walked up the creaky wooden stairs to their bedroom. Their heart skipped a beat as they turned the old knob. Everything was just as they left it before going out on their walk.

     They grabbed a spare pair of glasses they had, and they weren't prepared for how amazing it was to see without cracks. They sat on their bed and stared down at the old pair, running their thumb over the cracks. Their hands began to shake, and they tossed them away to the floor, landing in a pile of clothes. They reached for their medication on the bedside table and stared down at it.

     It would be so nice to not feel like they're dying all the time, but… They’ve already been forced to stop taking them all at once, and considering the whole apocalypse thing, they doubted they’d be able to refill their prescription. This bottle was all they had left, and it would be for the best to just deal with the anxiety- as awful as it may be. At least they weren’t someone who needed drugs in order to live…

     Their favorite old jacket was thrown over a wooden chair. They put it on, and it felt like the most comforting thing to exist. So warm and secure. They picked up a handheld mirror that laid on their desk and took a look at their reflection. They knew their hair had grown over the last few months, but seeing their actual face really put it in perspective. Their hair was down past their shoulders. They couldn’t recall the last time it was that long.

     Before going back downstairs, they grabbed a wooden baseball bat they had lying underneath their bed. Agnes and Anthony were being nosy as they innocently looked through Fawn’s things, but Fawn didn’t care. Severin looked fascinated by the alien-to-him objects, typing stuff down on his half-working tablet.

     Fawn left their house where they saw Hunter sitting criss-crossed in the grass, picking at the clovers and dandelions. They cautiously approached them, sitting down next to them with a bit of distance. Hunter glazed over to them with a side eye, keeping their attention on the ground.

     Fawn twiddled with their thumbs, and fidgeted with the loose threads of their jacket, unable to think of something to say. It was strange, what they had. They were a captive and a captor, a victim and a murderer, a fawn and a hunter. Yet now, they could almost feel like… friends. Fawn scrunched their face at the thought.

     Hunter was the one to break the silence, “Why are you still here?”

     “What do you mean? This is my yard.”

     “Oh. Yeah. That is true… I guess the better question is, why am I here, huh?”

     “Yeah, Hunter, why are you here?” Fawn said, “That’s not even your real name, either, is it?”

     “No, it’s not. Does it matter?”

     “If you wanna sit in my yard and rip up my grass then yes, it does. Tell me your real name or get out.”

     Hunter shrugged and got up.

     "Wait, you’re actually leaving?”

     “Hey, you gave me an either or and I took it. Have fun with your group of four, I'll finally fuck off.” They said, and began walking away down the street.

     “Ugh- wait.” Fawn said, getting up to follow them. Hunter didn't stop walking.

     “What, grow attached to me now?”

     “Fuck you.”

     “uh huh. I see."

     "Fuck you." Fawn said again, "The woods were my only escape, and now it’s the fucking apocalypse. No one has anywhere to go. This is it… why… why did you even take me in the first place?"

     "I... I was sadistic."

     "What would you know? You're not me."

      "That's not the reason. At least not the main one."

     “Earlier today, you told me you liked me. You… kept me because you were lonely.”

     “You say that with a lot of confidence.”

     “Well I’m right, ain’t I? You decided you liked me, so instead of killing me, you kept me. That’s what you did.”

     “Is it?”

     “Yes! You literally told me!”

     “Did I?”

     “Yes! Today!”

     “I don’t think I said that.”

     “UAGH!” Fawn groaned, “You’re fucking impossible! You’re infuriating!” They plopped down onto a curb, putting their head in their hands. Hunter leaned against a street sign.

     Fawn sighed, "... Back... when I was sick and you were taking- taking care of me. That was- it was the first time I've ever been cared for like that. Not even my own mother showed me that kind of kindness. I- I just can't deal with it.”

     For a moment Hunter’s face softened. Just a moment. “What, so I remind you of your shitty mom?”

     "No, you're like my shitty mother if my shitty mother was also a fucking creep who gave even just a single fuck about me."

     The two sat on the curb in silence as they stared out at the sunset over the skyline. The air was warm with a gentle cool breeze.

     "Ooohhh, I see. So I'm not like your mother, I'm like your mommy." Hunter teased, and Fawn turned an embarrassed shade of red, making Hunter chuckle. They sat down next to them.

     Fawn finally spoke, "Fuck. I think I have Stockholm syndrome."

     "Hey, at least you're self-aware. Spending 41 days trapped with me as an equal fucked ya up, didn't it?” They teased, nudging Fawn with their elbow.

     “You're not funny, or cute, or quirky.”

     “I ain't sayin’ I am. I'm an asshole who likes to torment people. I think you need to care a little less."

     "Does it even fucking matter anymore? It's the end of the world, Hunter!"

     “Yeah, so what better time is there to stop caring?”

     “We’re all going to die. You heard what Severin said. The aliens want to enslave us, the werewolves want to use us as some kind of godly sacrifice, and the vampires… what do they want? Our blood, and- oh, god, is Anaira okay?!”

     “Okay, look. Sure, maybe the world as we know it is ending. Sure, maybe we're all doomed by the narrative. But that doesn't mean we can't fight to the end, does it? I mean, you said it yourself, nothing matters anymore. So let's forget about trivial problems and fuck shit up. There are no more consequences.”

     “If there are no more consequences, then I should be able to strangle you right here, right now. Beat you with this bat."

     “I mean… yeah. You could try. You think once this whole thing really gets going that the police are gonna care? Or rather that they'll still exist at all. It's a time for anarchy, it's time to actually eat the rich. It's time to fuck around and find out. What's there left to lose? So, yeah, you can try to strangle me. The only person who'd be stopping you is me.”

Fawn stood up, and began walking away.

     “Where are you going?”

     “Well, it's the Apocalypse, ain't it? So let's get prepared.”

Taglist: @parasitebunny @whumpy-wyrms @fruitypinapple00 @otterfrost

Lmk in the comments if you want added or removed !

Thanks for reading !! 💕🦌

[bomberqueen17]

a week

hoo boy it has been A Week.

i keep thinking that i haven't worked all that hard this week really, but then i think about what's been going on, and like, yeah ok, i have done a lot. i've been really really tired every night. i've had almost no free time. i thought about going to see the barbie movie since everyone is, but i really truly simply just did not have time. behind the cut is just me sort of loosely recounting this week, minus the hospital adventures. (My finger is healed, if weirdly itchy in one spot, and I've got four more days of antibiotics about it?)

i spent time every day over at dude's aunt's house with his mom. i hadn't thought she'd need me thursday but then she texted to ask when i was coming, lolsob, so i got my laundry hung out and went over. i just hadn't asked, and i had assumed she'd mention it, and had built it up that i was going to get stuff done for myself that day. but then i didn't. i only went over there for a couple of hours, but it wore me out.

today we were only there for maybe an hour, not quite, and dude came too and we got a bunch of stuff removed. i keep not quite believing there's more. but there's more. there's always more.

i spent thursday afternoon and all but about an hour and a half of friday cleaning my own basement. and my own basement is not nearly so good. it's awful actually. there's so much shit that i put away not very carefully and it's wrecked now and honestly why was i keeping it anyway, and i need to just-- get rid of it, and i don't.... know... how... it's exhausting.

and i know, I know! what would make it so much easier, is that so much of the shit I have hoarded, not to put too fine a point on it, is stuff I want to use to make things, and if I just had like. IDK like maybe a week, let's say. During which I could just. Lay out and work on a bunch of projects with no other obligations. I know what would happen is I would realize that a lot of these carefully-hoarded things I've set aside to craft with are garbage really and my time would be better spent working with better materials. And then I'd throw them out! I know this sounds like wishful thinking but it has actually happened several times, I think I'm finally good enough at the things I want to do as hobbies that I feel able to let go of things that haven't worked, let go of things that aren't ideal, etc. We found out where all the textile recycling places are while clearing out Auntie's dragon-hoard of fabrics, and now I know, and I could let stuff go to that, I know I could. They take old shoes! I could do it.

I just don't have the time, which is frustrating. And so a lot of the cleaning I did is just rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic. but those deck chairs are rearranged now, and the crucial thing is that when the movers come to take away our broken dryer and poorly-functioning washing machine, and give us Auntie's working ones instead (her washer is even OLDER than my nearly-unusable one from the 70s, it's kind of amazing, but ilke, you know what, why not, it would be amazing not to have to stand there holding the knob down the whole time it fills) they will be able to get in and out easily and we won't be paying them $225/hr to shimmy around my piles of junk. The front of the basement is now just like. Well I even mopped the floor, ok, so, if that means anything.

It doesn't, except to me. But there it is.

I am so tired. We got the guest bed taken apart; we're getting a fold-out couch in there instead, from Auntie's house, so that the room is more usable as an office. We'd been discussing that change for a long time. I was dreading to find out what's under that bed but it turns out almost nothing, refreshingly. Two strange boxes that contain things my sister left there when she lived in that house in 2007, but apart from that, just a whole lot of dust. Now that that's cleaned up, probably Dude's allergies will be better actually.

I knocked off work at 4:30 pm and took a shower and then we went out to dinner, and I made dude come for a walk with me around a local park, to do a Pokemon Go thing. He was amused. I asked him if he was having fun and he said "I have put myself into a place where I am enjoying this" which is familiar, honestly; I do that all the time. I realize a thing is just what's happening so I decide that I'm going to enjoy that however I can manage to, and usually it works.

I did get a tiny bit of writing done this morning, too, so there's that. But mostly this week was spent going through things and clearing out Dude's aunt's house. And that's what it is.

I'm headed back to the farm tomorrow. I need to work out how to cram things into my car effectively. I believe in myself. It'll be fine.

I'm so tired, and it's a chicken week coming up so I need to get my shit together. It'll be fine. I'm fine. God I could really use a whole day just-- mostly in bed. Wouldn't that be something! No I'd get too anxious. But a day reading. OMG Martha Wells put a new book out like a month ago and I haven't even bought it. Haven't even read an excerpt or summary. Haven't even looked at it. What would it be like to have time for that!

Someday.

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

Battle Of The Knights Alt Ending 3: And The Winner Is Marc

Pairing: Moonknight trio x Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: technically none still but Jake is a bit volatile here

Genre: fluff, what else would it be

Summary: "So let me get this straight, you all like me, so you each want to take me on a date and let me decide what to do after?" You can't believe the words you're hearing even as you repeat them back.

What happens when the relationships you've built with Marc and his two alters are turned on their heads by a proposition that is anything but simple? How can they expect you to risk blowing up the carefully crafted dynamic you've worked so hard to create? And why do you agree to such an insane suggestion?

***

You didn't really need to ask for three weeks to consider things. You knew the moment Marc left your apartment who you were going to choose. Hell, you might've known before this whole thing started honestly. It's why you had them go in the order you did. You've always cared for Marc in a way you didn't want to admit even to yourself, but everyone deserved a fair shot. You didn't want your less than simple feelings for Marc to win out by default. You love Jake and Steven and genuinely believed one of them could sweep you off your feet unexpectedly, but not if Marc went first. Even with your efforts, even though you enjoyed your dates with all of them, Marc wormed his way into your heart long before Steven and Jake could, there was no question about that. Still, you waited over a week to message them. Even if your decision was made before you'd even fallen asleep that day, you didn't want them to think you were rushing the choice. You weren't, you'd been thinking about it since this all started, pros and cons lists for each date are scattered about your desk to prove just that.

Hey guys, I've made a decision.

You send the text before you can talk yourself out of it.

Great! I'm at work right now, but if you'd like to swing by this evening we can discuss it! I get off at 5 :) -Steven

Going to their place means you're not in neutral territory which on one hand puts you at a slight disadvantage despite being pretty familiar with their place but on the other hand, they'll be more comfortable which is good since they're at your mercy in this conversation.

Sounds good! I can come over around 6?

You shouldn't prolong this. You've already sat on your choice for like 8 days.

That works! See you then! -Steven

You glance at the clock on your wall, it's only after 3 now. You've got a couple of hours before you have to head over there during which you actually manage to get some things done before you head over there just before 6. When you knock on their apartment door it's about ten past and the door swings open after a couple of moments.

"Y/n! Hi! You're here!" Steven breathes out.

"Hi Steven, good to see you." You smile.

"Good to see you too! Glad you came by." Steven gestures for you to enter the apartment.

"Of course, how was work by the way?" You ask following him in.

"Oh it was fine. My boss is awful but, that's certainly not new." He shrugs.

"You know Steven I really think someone should say something to that woman she's horrendous to you and I don't like-"

"No! No. I know she's like the worst but I just want to keep my head down and do my job. No antagonizing her, low profile, you know the deal." Steven cuts off the vaguely threatening thing he knows you're about to say.

"Fine. If you insist. Still- she should get a taste of her own medicine." You roll your eyes.

"Maybe one day." He chuckles.

"If there's any justice in this world." You smirk taking a seat on the couch.

"If so. Can I get you anything by the way? Something to drink or perhaps a snack? I can make something quickly if you're hungry." Steven walks over to his kitchen as he makes the offer.

"I'm alright Steven thank you, darling- but is um- Marc around? Or I guess rather, is he like prepared to have this conversation?" You ask.

"You want to talk to Marc?" Steven whirls around to look at you.

"I think it would be easiest to start by speaking to him yes, if he's in the place to have this discussion." You nod.

"Of course! Just hang on a second." Steven says. You watch from the couch as you notice the switch between Steven and Marc. It's subtle but after seeing it so many times and being so familiar with them as individuals it's easy to know that it's Marc when their eyes pop open again.

"You called?" A small grin appears as Marc greets you.

"I did. Hi Marc." You say as he plops down onto the couch beside you.

"So you've made a decision. Rip off the band-aid." Marc says.

"Don't make it sound so dreadful Marc." You laugh.

"The dreadful part was the waiting." He snorts.

"Well now I wanna make this more dramatic since you're gonna be like that." You poke him.

"I feel like you're stalling now and like if you're not ready to-"

"I'm picking you." You cut him off. You would lose your nerve if you let him go on whatever rant about you stalling he was thinking of.

"What?" He frowns.

"You wanted the band-aid ripped off. I'm picking you." You say.

"Oh-" Marc blinks at you. "I'll admit I'm kind of surprised."

"Why?" Now it's your turn to frown.

"Oh come on, you've always had a soft spot for Steven and I mean Jake is- Jake." Marc scoffs.

"Well- yeah I guess. I mean don't get me wrong I do care for them, a lot. Of course, I do, but- it's different with you. The way I feel for them it- it isn't the same." You say.

"We never stood a chance did we?" You didn't exactly notice the switch but the difference in their voices is obvious.

"Jake?" You're surprised he's here so suddenly.

"You were always going to choose Marc. Makes sense I mean you have known him the longest but-"

"You have to go." Marc's voice cuts off whatever Jake was going to say.

"Wait- what?" You shake your head.

"It's not that I want you to go. They're upset and clearly, we need to have a little system chat."

"Don't be too hard on them, okay? Rejection isn't easy for anyone hm? As long as they aren't hurting anyone allow them to process their feelings in whatever ways work best for them." You warn Marc.

"Sure sure, I'll call you, okay babe?"

"Babe?" You quirk an eyebrow up at him.

"Oh, I guess I didn't ask- does this make us an item? Am I your boyfriend?"

"Would you like to be?" You ask.

"Of course." He nods.

"Then yes. You are."

"Cool. So- I'll call you later babe."

"Sounds good." You nod. You pause for a moment, should you kiss him? You want to but it's probably not a good idea with Jake as upset as he seems. You turn to leave but Marc grabs your wrist before you can get far.

"What was that look?" He asks as he pulls you back towards him.

"Nothing I just- I was debating on if I was going to kiss you, but given the... internal conflict now doesn't seem like a good time for that." You say.

"You're probably right." Marc huffs out his annoyance.

"I'll make it up to you. Good luck and try to enjoy your evening."

"You too." Marc says. With that, you leave Marc to whatever discussion he's going to have with Jake and Steven- here's hoping your choice doesn't backfire.

***

Taglist: @queerponcho @avengersinitiative2012 @stressed-cherry

[queerfables]

911 season 5 liveblog part 3

5x10

I'm finding it hard to believe these women are busy squabbling with each other when their husband has been blatantly lying to both of them

And they both have kids who are probably feeling very confused and upset right now maybe go take care of that

Lmfao Hen's advice about what Buck should get Taylor for Christmas. "Don't overthink it just make sure it's sweet and something she needs and also shows you know her really well" SO HELPFUL

LOL TAYLOR IS JUST AS BAD AS HIM AT THIS

Thank God for Athena telling these two women exactly what I've been wanting to say

Awwww they're bonding

Noooo lady ask him out you can do it

Awwwww he likes her too even though he hated the present she got him. Cuuute.

Oh NO Chris is freaking out about Christmas because he's worried about Eddie T_T

Oh jeeze Eddie so does not need a child frantically asking if his dad is dead right now

OK Buck's present to Taylor was crazy romantic

Oh no Eddie's leaviiiiing.

I'm sure Evan "Abandonment Issues" Buckley is gonna be super chill and normal about that

5x11

Lol at Hen's revolving door of partners

Oh God horrible??

This show has actually really desensitised me to TV injuries involving the bone showing, that used to be suuuch a major squick for me

Omg Eddie is doing 911 dispatch? Please. How long is that going to last. He's perpetually 0.5 seconds away from climbing out a third storey window to rescue a kitten. Eddie trying to keep himself out of danger by coordinating 911 responses like an alcoholic trying to pay for therapy by working at a bar.

Oh he's doing PR? That's so much worse. He'll be stir crazy in a week.

On one hand, Buck should probably not broadcast his scepticism over Eddie's career change quite so loudly. On the other hand he is meeee so how can I judge him.

It's very romantic of the wife to wanna take over driving in this Speed re-run for her husband but wasn't the whole point of Eddie's call that they can't switch him out?

Yeah so this is the kind of thing I mean though, how is Eddie supposed to watch from the sidelines while the people he cares about put themselves in danger doing the job he loves?

Oh no Eddie, left on the outside

Lol yeah Athena pegged it. Bobby's bullshit about trying to find the ~right person~ as if that has ever mattered so much before. Buck hated Eddie at first and Bobby told him to get over it.

I really love that Athena rides solo. Her being the only cop and the one who works without a partner, compared to all these firefighters who work as a team, and I don't know, I just think it shows up in some really well crafted ways in everyone's characterisation and the ways that Athena is a little different from the others.

Wow this lady is really hitting on Buck

Buck do not???

Buck stop this????

Oh he's so drunk

Hen you are giving Buck terrible advice

Yeah no that's better telling the truth is the only option but oof this is not gonna be good

I am having some thoughts and feelings about how Buck's spiral over Eddie leaving is manifesting as kissing the last person he jumped onto the roof of a car with

I'm gonna get weepy again, Chris is such a good kid and he loves his dad so much

Lol at how Eddie's response to Bobby benching him for his own good is identical to Buck's

BUCK NO

Come on you'd done the hardest part she knew something was wrong and honestly in the grand scheme briefly kissing someone else is not that bad

But now it is VERY bad

You asked her to move in instead of telling her

At this point the only thing you can do is change your name, move to another country and pray she never finds you

Oh shit Lucy is transferring here isn't she

Buckley you are fucked

5x12

Maddie! I've just been thinking about how much I missed her

Oh Maddie honey

And Chimney!! Hi Chimney

Aaaah them finding each other again gave me chills

They're two of my fav characters I've really missed them

Oh no I just full on started bawling when Maddie started singing "the wheels on the bus" to jee-an. That song is one of my son's favourites and there were a few months where singing it was the only thing that would calm him down. I was already way too emotional imagining myself in Maddie's shoes and I guess that was the breaking point lol.

Then Maddie and Chimney started singing it together and I got teary all over again

Oh this is bad I cannot have a hair trigger weeping response to the wheels on the freaking bus that's so dumb

5x13

"We broke up" what the FUCK

Lol at Maddie and Chimney catching up on all the gossip from the 118 while they've been gone

Erg, the bends is my nightmare, it's one of those human body related things I'm squeamish about

Lol Buck you are being SO weird about Lucy it's very funny

Eddie really looks like he's not doing so hot

"Pain is just weakness leaving the body" for fucks sake. you would have internalised that, wouldn't you?

Well at least Buck knows it was dumb

Urg, spiders, another nightmare :/

Yeaaaaaah this is real bad Buck

Holy fuck the woman just dousing the mugger and then herself in gasoline

Omg the fact that Eddie is having a breakdown and Christopher is freaking out and the person he calls is Buck T_T

God this is awful for Chris though

Oh jeeze, Eddie. This is awful.

Man this is devastating but in some ways I'm happy Eddie finally reached a breaking point and let himself feel his feelings

I'm also really happy that Christopher had someone he could call. That kid has been through enough.

5x14

Oh Eddie

Buck drew a heart that's so cute

Buck you REALLY should have told Taylor everything. She is going to find out, you know that right? That's literally her job description

I'm really liking this arc for Eddie. I don't know, his primary coping mechanism seems to be to compartmentalise and shut down the difficult feelings and it's been good to see him externalise a bit more. It's shown a different side of his character I think.

[ilovemenoverfifty]

Copybat Ch. 1

Bale!Bruce Wayne x Trans!OC

(Victoria October is a canon trans woman in the Batman comics, although I know nothing about her. My oc only shares a name and the fact she's trans) Disclaimer: I've only seen the Dark Knight Trilogy and the plot is solely based off of that and my own ideas. I hope y'all like how I captured Bruce Wayne. This is set in the time of "The Dark Knight"

Ever since reports of the Batman, the controversy, and the good he’s done for Gotham, Victoria has been full on obsessed. She’s not just any fan of his either. She’s studied his actions, methods, and ideals. Victoria understands the character of the Batman under the mask. 

There are times when the real Batman isn’t there, though, and people need him. Sure, there have been Batman copycats, but she’s going to rise above them. Victoria will be the second Batman that Gotham needs.

For days on end, she would lock herself in her home office, building her suit, 3D printing her cowl, crafting her weapons, and choosing how to present herself. Victoria doesn’t have the body of the Batman, but she can make herself look and sound masculine enough to appear as a male. Days turn into weeks until she’s finally completed the armour and costume.

Other than crafting, she’s been on autopilot, doing the bare minimum to take care of herself. She was completely focused on this project.

It was the first day back to her normal life and Victoria decided to start off strong. Before heading to work, she had worked out and she was on her way to a coffee shop. A larger man bumps into her, slamming her into a wall.

“Hey! Watch it you asshole!!” She almost screams at him, not noticing his size. Victoria’s eyes widen, noticing how much taller than her he is. She’s by no means short, but this man was almost twice her height.

“The fuck didja just call me?” He asks, punching her in the face, sending her harder into the wall and pulling her by her shirt collar. She’s frozen in fear, trying to get someone’s attention. A few people give her sympathetic looks, but no one does anything to help.

“Nothing, I’m sorry,” She squeaks. The thug stares her down for a quick second.

“Got any money on you?” Victoria nods, pulling her wallet out of her blazer pocket. She fumbles through the cash she has.

“How much?” She barely whispers.

“Just gimme the wallet and I’ll forget this happened.” He snatches the wallet from her hand, throws her back, hard, causing her to black out for a minute. When she comes to, her mind is racing a million miles a minute, unable to focus on or hear anything. She had been so confident about her fighting skills before, so why couldn’t she fight back now?

 After what seemed like hours, she heard a voice trying to get her attention.

“Are you okay?” He asks. She comes back to reality when she clearly hears a snap of two fingers. In front of her, a familiar concerned man who she couldn’t quite place in her current mental state. The two are in an alley and he’s holding her up as if he were a crutch.

“Yeah…um,” She holds her head with one hand. “I think.”

“I called an ambulance, it should be on its way.”

“No, no,” Victoria shakes her head, moving to stand up straight. Getting slammed into the wall left a nasty bruise on her shoulders and she sucks her teeth when she feels the pain. “You didn’t have to.”

“You have a concussion and need treatment.”

“I don’t have a concussion,” She insists, shaking her head. “I’m fine…”

“I need you to follow my finger with your eyes. Can you do that?” He asks, ignoring her denial. Victoria nods. “Tell me if you get a headache while doing so.” He moves his hand back and forth, and she follows it for a few seconds. Her head starts to hurt a lot, and it shows on her face. “Alright, I’ll stop. Do you remember your name?”

“Of course I remember my name,” She chuckles slightly. “It’s um…” She thinks for a minute. “Victoria… I think.”

“Alright, Victoria… Do you at least have someone you can call?”

“My boss is gonna kill me…” She groans, hardly in the right state of mind. “I need to let him know… that I won’t be in today…”

“Victoria, look at me,” He gently commands. She does so, only now realising who’s helping her.

“You’re… Bruce Wayne…” She points at him.

“That’s right,” He nods. “And I’m taking you to the hospital where you’ll get treatment for your concussion. I need you to stay awake.” Victoria is hardly listening, trying her best to stay conscious.

“You know my boss,” Her thoughts are few and far between.

“Who’s your boss? I need you to stay awake.” He asks, trying to keep her conscious, genuinely worried about her health. She gives him a blank stare for a minute.

“Lucius…Fox….I think.” Victoria’s words are slurred. 

“Alright. I’ll talk to him. The paramedics are here. They’re going to help you.” Her world is going dark as she hears the faint sound of an ambulance siren in her ears. until she blacks out again.

[demetrius-haggarty]

Demetrius,

Thank you again for inquiring as to the state of my plants after the terrible storm that rolled through. It seemed to come out of nowhere! Almost had me wondering if a Thunderbird was at fault...though I could have SWORN Professor Howin said they were native to North America...suspicious.

Anyhow...I had to write you for two reasons:

To implore you to please teach me more of those protective charms you are currently using for your garden... a good amount of my dittany plants were taken out by the storm, and I'm still crying about it like a mandrake looking for ways to hopefully avoid that for the next time around, and need your help!

@ask-wren-zhang mentioned something about a 'Shrub Club'? What do you know of this....and more importantly where can I sign up?

Your Fellow Herbology Nerd,

Theo

Theodora,

I was so sorry to hear that some of your plant friends did get damaged in that storm! It is sadly what nature does. Back home when our crops get damaged we just accept that those events come unexpectedly and that we should be happy for what is still left intact. I feel bad for thinking that way but sometimes it also means less work for me later in the season since it's not like my gramps is going to walk around collecting vegetables, it always ends up being me >:(

Regarding your reasons, I wish I had answers for the first one but you've seen me in most of the classes that we share: I am kinda rubbish as magic. The only protective spells I am great at are the ones we learn in DADA and mostly because I happened to use them a lot. But who said magic is the only answer? Well, sure, we you we can do some research into proper spells but I think you will do a much better job at those than I. I can, however, do a lot of regular stuff, building some supports, maybe protective covers, some sort of a makeshift greenhouse even, for some of your more precious babies? Mandrakes do need to be protected! My hands were made for crafting and building while you can do some research into the protective charms at the same time! Maybe you can even teach me a thing or two. But only if it's not too much studying...

Now. The Shrub Club? I cannot believe this title actually spread, I've only mentioned it to Magnolia (@justmagnoliaellistor) in passing once, and then Wren (@ask-wren-zhang) knows about it somehow, and now you! I, er, didn't think that far ahead when I got this idea… Perhaps somebody else should do the organizing… But the idea is simple: we just love plants. We talk about plants. We talk with plants. We plant the plants. Everything is plants! We can try and organize our meetings a few times a week in one of the smaller greenhouses? I do not think we really need any papers to sign, I certainly do not have that much parchment left to last me until the end of the month to make people sign things. I'm not really comfortable organizing anything on my own anyway... Just a word from you is enough so that I know who is curious.

Your proud (but unsure?) Shrub Club leader,

Meech

[streamdotpng]

Bruv, like, why do yall have to be such good writers, like c'mon!! I go to catch up on the blog when i wake up, and cause yall were so captivating with your writing(both stream and writer anon) i almost missed the bus!!!

Yall are not good for my productivity!! But also, u r. Yall are not good for the productivity i need!!!

I've got two weeks left of school, only one week left to submit things, and i am stuck on this blog.

Yall are too hypnotizing with your immaculate literature.

Just, like, stop(I AM JOKING ABOUT STOPPING, PLEASE NEVER STOP YOUR CRAFT!!!!!!!)

-coffee anon

we just that good B)

nah jk, i dont see where writer anon got all that gas BUT ITS SO GOOD LIKE DAMNNNNN WRITER ANON YOURE AMAZING

but seriously, dont go missing the bus to catch up with us. The blog will still be here so finish your school coffee anon!

[greenpanda-basicfakewitch]

Welcome to my Witchy Blog!

Here are some links to the pages or speicific post of any speicific thing your looking for :D [I'll post the links once I have them]

About me -> Read!

P.s: I am working on a fictional story, most media I enjoy had influence from real witches/research into Wicca/Paganism. All posts here are for self-gain, research purposes only. So take ALL my posts with a grain of salt. And put a circle around yourself ;P

Index: Introduction: Book of Shadows/Grimoire | Wiccan Rede | Baby witch first steps.  Symbols For Protection-many Others. Pagan/Wiccan/Witch |  what's the diff? | The Founder Fathers of Howarts- I mean Wicca as we know it. [Link to their misdeeds] More in depth about the problems of Wicca [Might need to make a seperate page into cultural appropriation of Wicca. Wicca/Witch History | Do/Don'ts of Wicca: Appropriation List.   Coven Hierarchies. Left Hand Path. Widdershins |

Lore:

Tree of Life |  Triple Goddess  | Horned God  |  Morgan Le fey |  After Life: Return to the Cauldron | The THREE Cauldrons | After Life: SummerLands | Tree People | Shadow people | Triquetra/Relation to Triple Goddess | Lambton Worm Myth

Witch Tools:

Cast a circle/Pentacle [Protection circle before you cast] Elements | Consecrate your Tools. | Altar  | Cauldron  |  Chalice  | Athame | Wand | Boline |  Witch's Bell |Besom/Broom | Witch's Ladder |  

Additional Witches Tools:

Candles|  Crystals  - Cleansing VS Charging | Flowers | Herbs |

Divination Tools:

Ouija | Seance | Pendulum | Runes | Scrying Mirror | Dowsing Rod | "Hag Stones."/Wishbone/jack o lantern | Tarot | Angel numbers | Oracle Cards | Call/invoking a spirit |

Calender

Year Calendar\Wheel of the year Weeks |  Astrology | Retrograde | Moon Rituals | Moon Phases | Moon Phases through the year| Moon Water / Moon Bath | Moon Glyphs |

Spiritual

Deities |Christian hierchies|   Animals as omens/Familiars |  Chakra | Meditation | Milk Bath | Lucid Dreaming | Astral Projection |

Spells and others:

Witch Tips |  Spells |  Witch bag/bottle | Evil Eye | Seashells | Feathers | Witches Alphabet | Faerie Circle/Faerie ring |  Circle Bridge\Devil Bridge | HandFasting

Artistic expression in Wicca:

Using Arts and Crafts in Wicca Wiccan Fashion history | Wiccan Fashion Modern | Occult in Media | Occult in Literature | Occult in Anime |

The good the bad and the Ugly In Wicca

Since I'm a casual observer with no skin in the game, and prefer the media/artistic side of witchery in doing research for my own media ideas I don't want to make mistakes. So here is additional pages I was going to do last, but ugh Wicca should just be chucked in the bin, I've never felt more irritated and wanted to delete this whole blog by this research [and people online who assume everyone KNOWS this stuff and think whats common knowledge to them isn't new information to anybody else. Esp since its not someones social circle/not on the internet much and has my own life etc so thats annoying] And so- Here are going to be Page Links once it's done of-

Symbols in Wicca that are also affiliated with HATE Symbols Like nazisim. -> Problematic Symbols. Individuals in Wicca and their Problematic History. -> History Page. Closed Practices/speicific rituals that are closed -> Closed List. Why Lilith is Closed Explaination -> Source Divided Opinions: When two people are divided if something 'like Chakra' is problematic. I've seen a lot say it's okay- it's not okay etc. So I'll post the 'unsure' stuff here.

The problem with Sabbats -> Blog Post bear in mine OP made a mistake stating that British forced ireland into catholic conversion which wasn't true that was st patrick- the comments/reblogs explain it better. Wheel of the Year in depth information -> [Source]

Closed/Open Practices -> [Post]

Sourced Sites:

[Wiccan Websites here once I've posted all my ducks in a row before I shoot them] Everything Under The Moon -> Source

*Also I WILL Post on my blogs where I got the Info from. Such as sited/sourcing everything and if I took it online/pinterest/tumblr as well as books I've also sourced. I'll post the book/author chapter page etc. Source : Witch

[theluckywizard]

hiiiii Lucky what if something Fade heist to rescue Hawke related + "No more dreaming like a girl so in love with the wrong world" and/or "Well, did you miss me?" from the Florence prompts?? 👀 Happy Friday and have fun!!

So this started for @dadrunkwriting Friday two weeks ago and then I got SUPER INVESTED and have been working on it ever since. I've popped an ambient song link in for effect! Illustration by me :)

Summary: The nightmares Rose had of Hawke following Adamant prompted her to develop a recurring dream with Solas, one she's had hundreds of times. It's safe. It's always the same. But something isn't right this time. And the dream will never be the same again. (Flangst, extra angst)

Characters: Rose Trevelyan, Garrett Hawke

WC: (buckle up!) 5075

Rating/CW: Explicit, sex!

Ambient Music - Olafur Arnalds - Dalur (loop it for full effect)

The intense clarity that the Anchor gave my dreams had always been tolerable– at least until Hawke stayed behind in the Fade. I could only live through so many iterations of watching the man I love get impaled and crushed by the Nightmare. So many dreams replaying the moment I left him behind. Listening to Hawke tell me in a dozen different ways that I’d abandoned and betrayed him, that he never actually loved me. Watching him end his own life out of hopelessness. In my grief and desperation I begged Solas to teach me some manner of control.

My subconscious had become unbearable and I needed to master it.

So he and I crafted a dream I could safely retreat to each night, a prison, or fortress of sorts to keep me safe from such intrusions. He’d asked me to choose a familiar place, where each detail was etched deeply into my memory. He had me choose activities to pursue within the safety of the setting, something to pass the time until I returned to consciousness, where my darkest thoughts were under stricter control.

I’ve dreamt of my quarters at home at the estate hundreds of times. It’s my refuge. Jigsaw puzzles and knitting. Playing my lute in my pillows piled high by the window. It gives a sense of peace I could never hope to find in Skyhold, where I’m haunted by ghosts of my decisions and the cost of war. Haunted by memories of Hawke. 

The wards Solas taught me to set keep all of that out. 

I pick at my lute, singing a tune in Antivan as rain rolls in from the Waking Sea and washes down my window. My voice is always sweet in my dreams, never needing warming up or clearing. My velvet pillows hug me while I lounge back into them. Everything is in its right place. 

But there’s something strange across my room. 

Something that doesn’t belong.

On the center of my bed is a yellow cactus flower. 

My lute slips and clatters in a twang of strings on the floor as I’m assaulted by the memories, how a yellow bloom would grace my cot each evening in the Western Approach. I stand and approach the flower with the caution its alien nature merits. 

“Maker’s breath,” I mutter, crawling onto the bed and picking it up. I spin the fragile bloom against my nose, the petals like satin, the fragrance familiar, flooding my chest with warmth. If I’m losing my grip on my recurring dream, at the very least this is a welcome intrusion.

But I check the wards to make sure I’ve activated them properly before slipping into the safety of my dream. The wards are live. I examine the flower, brushing it over my lips, attempting to divine meaning from it. It’s a fond memory of a different time, of a great love I didn’t understand or appreciate. But the warmth gives way to torment, as considering the flower cleaves my heart, the grief falling like a greataxe as I recall how I’d failed to tell him how deeply I’d felt before being scooped around the waist by Alistair and flung back through the rift. 

And then I wake myself, because Maker, I can’t do this all over again.

The next night I’m welcomed by a platter of too many cheeses, partially picked over with all together too much fruit for a proper cheese deity. It sits precariously on the edge of my nightstand. And this time I laugh when the tear sneaks out the corner of my eye. No amount of grief could sully the ridiculousness of that memory.

After that it’s a book of Antivan smut on my window seat, The Fires of Satinalia, open to a picture of the Contessa and Signore della Verga canoodling in a dark alley. I’d given it away after we’d collected it from his effects, the thought of looking at it without him there to incite my blushes and horrified snorts unsupportable at the time. It prompts a wistful smile now.

It goes on for weeks, mementos of Hawke tucked around my room. I learn to look for them, like my own mind is pranking me elaborately. A bronze statuette inside my lute case. A purple bathrobe draped over my breakfast chair. A bottle of Garbolg’s Backcountry Reserve and two cobweb covered glasses on my nightstand. A scarlet scarf in rose imprinted damask with a tattered fringe on my dressing table. A wild sketch of quaking undead imprisoned in a livestock wagon on my desk. 

I don’t know how or why it’s happening. But the joy it provokes has me awakening with tears in my eyes. 

Perhaps I no longer need my prison of a dream.

Tonight when I arrive in my bedroom there’s nothing. I search everywhere for the treat, combing the room in an ever increasing state of agitation. I’ve gone blithely straight to sleep for weeks to see what happy little treasure I’d find next. Disappointment sets in, aching behind my sternum as I sit on the edge of my bed bent over my knees, hugging my head in my arms. The rims of my eyes gather up my tears as I realize how much I’d come to depend upon the trinkets, on the whimsy of my own tenacious subconsciousness to muddle through the day.

Ambient music - Slow Meadow - Hurricane

There’s a sound competing with the insistent drum of the rain on my window, the sound of wooden puzzle pieces clicking into place on the table behind me. I straighten, my breath frozen in my lungs. Peering anxiously over my shoulder I see a giant of a man hunched over my table on an elbow, pushing puzzle pieces around and sorting them, his hair tied up in a familiar, darling little tail like it used to be.

“Hawke?” I inquire, guarded, bracing myself for some horror or other when he responds. He pushes back from the desk to stand, the rolling chair sliding a little farther than he means it to and turns to me. The last time he’d fixed his gaze upon me, he’d held me tightly between him and his shield and fearlessly pronounced his love as the Nightmare drifted closer. He’d instructed me to go– to stop Corypheus. He’d pressed his lips to mine in a final desperate kiss. I consider all the twisted dreams I’d had of his face, this beautiful face and how they had crippled me with sorrow and guilt. 

And yet this feels strangely real. 

The brightness of his eyes pierce me, his lips turned slightly at one corner in a subdued little smirk, waiting for my reaction. 

And as for that, I am tear-streaked astonishment, my eyes hazy and overwhelmed, my mouth agape. Closing the distance between us in a few steps, I pick up his hand with a determined curiosity, assessing the weight of it, the thickness of his palm, the way his fingers are too big to thread completely between mine.

His arming doublet is ragged and frayed over an equally tired linen shirt, and he's got a scruffy beard that looks as though it’s been maintained with a dull dagger. I reach up and feel his lips with my fingers, and they're as soft and full as they ought to be. I trace the lines across his forehead, then his brows and cheekbones.  Hawke clutches my face gently, his thumbs brushing over each of my cheeks in that delicate way of his, like I’m a freshly plucked cactus flower he might accidentally crush.

“Well did you miss me?” he asks quietly, his gaze, deep as a summer sky, joined to mine with customary intensity. I collapse against him, shoving my arms under his unfastened doublet to wrap them tightly around him, letting his shirt catch all of my tears as they fall, failing to restrain the jerk of my sobs in my ribs. I feel his lips pressed firmly against the top of my head as he folds me into the thickness of his arms. 

It feels too real. I’ve become too adept at this dreaming business.

“Uh– Rose?” he inquires, his voice perturbed. I glance through the glare of my tears to realize that my bedroom is dissolving around us, my carefully constructed dream slipping away under the weight of my own overwhelm. Everything gives way to a hazy amber light that holds us gently, like the golden glow of an emergent sunrise, promising another chance. There’s nothing but us.

I tighten my hold on his middle, afraid that if I let go the dream will collapse completely, leaving me alone to be followed by the unlimited void of his absence. Perhaps I could unburden myself of the feelings I’ve held close for months– the ones I’d barely understood until confronted with the prospect of losing him forever.

“I know it doesn’t matter now,” I start, speaking with my ear pressed against his chest, “but I was a monumental idiot.” I hear a laugh escape through his nose softly above me, lips buried in my hair. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you how deeply I felt. I didn’t know until it was too bloody late.”

“That’s all right,” he says, a surprisingly soft, humorless response, kissing his way to my forehead, his hold tightening. 

“It’s not all right,” I argue with more intensity than I mean to. “It’s not. I pushed you away because how much I felt terrified me. And then– and now– you’re gone.”

“I’m right here,” he says firmly, gripping me by the shoulders, bearing down on me with a determined gaze. “I’m here. I’m alive.” I look at him, shaking my head at the tricks my mind is playing on me, wishing that I’d been able to keep a grip on this bloody dream of mine. Wishing Solas was around to help me fix it.

Hawke bends and kisses me forcefully, like he’s out to prove something, a sturdy kiss that I could never doubt. He pulls back and looks at me again as if the gesture should signify something. 

But a kiss from Hawke is in keeping with everything else I’d let into my dream lately.

“Do you know how hard it was to break into this blazing cage of yours?” he asks, clearly annoyed with me, his fingers weaving in my hair. “Maker, Rose. I thought you’d know right away.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, stupified by the line of questioning.

“I found a way back to you, just as you asked. I– broke into your dreams to find you. Maker, I’ve wandered into the dreams of so many– but they won’t bloody well listen! And yours is the only one locked down like a proper vault. And you know how awful I am at lockpicking!”

His words force a flinch out of me as I grapple with it.

“You’re my subconscious,” I whisper past him as if I’m alone. He just shakes his head, exasperated. “You’re everything I’ve desperately wished for.” Hawke looks like he’s going to argue more but then holds back.

“Everything?” he asks with a sheepish smile. “I thought you knew better than to say things like that to me, Rose.”

“I’d like nothing more than for you to actually be here.”

“I am here. Rose– the trinkets I’ve been leaving– I was trying to prove to you that someone was tinkering with your blazing dream. That it wasn’t your mind. That it was me. I’m here. I’m alive in the Fade,” he says and then picks up my hand gently, stroking his fingers over the glow at the center of my palm. “And I need this beautiful hand of yours to escape.”

“Hawke–”

“I didn’t think it would be such a blazing chore to convince you.” He pulls a hand from my cheek to run it back into his hair in frustration, scratching his forehead as if to think of a new plan.

“It’s– you?” I ask, doubt still tugging at my mind in every direction.

“Maker, yes. And I’ve been looking forward to this for ages, you goose. Seeing you. Holding you.” 

“How?” I ask, but Hawke bends to kiss me again gently, grazing his lips across my face until they catch mine and linger, the question in my mouth evaporating. Basking in the warmth of breath, in the give of each other’s hungry mouths, desire awakens within me, rapidly filling every interstitial space inside of me until it spills forth. We can’t be close enough, not like this. 

In the time I’ve gone without him I’ve nearly forgotten the little details: his scent– peppermint salve and leather and sweat– the squash of his embrace, the energy and rhythm of our kiss. Hawke’s gentleness belies his fervor, but I can feel it in the intrepid way his hands tour over the curves of my body. He draws my knee up outside his hip with a hand under my thigh, sliding a leg between mine, his eager length pressed against the heat growing in my core. But there’s nowhere to go– my room has melted away into this lovely, yet shockingly inadequate stew of light and feeling around us.

“Could you perhaps dream us up a bed? A desk? A wheelbarrow?” he asks, beaming, bending to nudge his nose against mine. “Or perhaps that delightful window seat of yours?” 

I’ve never lost the dream before though– and I’m not sure I can retrieve it.

“Couldn’t whatever is beneath our feet suffice?” I ask, a little desperate. He looks down at the amber nothingness and chuckles, because gravity is still fixing us to some manner of floor and then regards me like I’m mad or I’m giving up too quickly. 

I close my eyes, attempting to journey again and draw the details from memory– the deep bench by my window with dozens of pillows. The velvet cushions. The lambswool blanket I always tuck around me to keep away the familiar creep of cold through the window. The rain streaming down the panes of glass. The evergreen forest emerging from a bank of fog. 

Hawke laughs in wonderment as it all materializes before him.

“That’ll do,” he says, lifting me lightly across the partially imagined room to the window seat, a facsimile of the very place I’d first become acquainted with the Champion. Where I’d read the polished, scrappy account of him carving a place for himself and his family out of the unforgiving black cliffs of Kirkwall. 

Rapturous, he eases carefully onto the window seat, scooting us over so my knees have somewhere to settle and he kicks his feet up. Astride him, my face is just above level and even beholding him at this distance, I’m still unsure if he’s real or not. The Fade is still a foreign place to me even after two trips. But my desire to make love to him, to tangle up our limbs and breath, to be filled by him is as real as anything, and I push his frayed doublet off his shoulders which he wrestles out of and then tosses into the amber ether.

“Ah, shit. I’m never getting that back, am I?” he says with a cheeky smile, but he’s too preoccupied by me to be bothered. I bend to sweep my open mouth against his, the steel of his erection against me stirring an arousal that aches with over a year of longing. I slide all ten fingers over the fine hairs across the center of his abdomen and then the coarser hairs of his chest under his shirt and he obliges me by stripping it away.

His right side is marred by a ragged scar I’ve never seen and I'm not sure that I would have conjured it up. It hooks around from the back like the rake of a talon, though it’s been long healed and I follow it with an inquisitive fingertip. He slides his hands up under the comfortable nightgown I’m always wearing in my dreams, grazing up the length of my thigh, his thumb finding the inside of it, pressing into it.

“It was a terror. Got me without my armor on. You know how they can be, jumping out of the ground like a bloody nuisance,” he explains, prompting the full weight of the revelation to fall into place like an impossible comfort.

“It’s really you,” I whisper, holding Hawke’s face as the astonishment takes hold.

He nods and dives in for another kiss, deep and unbridled. His gentle hand continues over the rise of my hip bone and onward until it lingers at the swell of my breast and then the hardened tip, our breath catching simultaneously. He gathers and lifts the sheer gauze of my nightgown up over my head and I lean back so he can exalt my skin, every curve with his mouth, his beard sending chills tickling through me as it grazes across my flesh. He pauses to wrap a lock of hair around his finger and tugs lightly.

“You cut your hair,” he says in a playful callback. I glance down at it, my hair now only reaching just past my breast. 

“Only a little. You grew yours out,” I point out.

“No sense cutting it in this cursed place. Easier to tie it back.”

“I always liked it longish,” I tell him, leaning in to delve into his grinning mouth again. We grind this way, his hard into my soft, gasps and moans alternating and crisscrossing as we remember the shape of each other. Separating briefly to rid ourselves of the last remaining barriers between us, we converge again, Hawke sliding into my silken depths like a missing puzzle piece. I wrap my arms around his neck and hold him like this, his breath bathing the skin of my cheek and neck in warmth while he's sheathed to my very limits. I tuck my fingers into his tied up hair to clasp his head against me and whisper ‘I love you’ against his ear. He pulls back with a smile.

“Say it again,” he says, insisting we look at one another. I feel a little timid under such direct scrutiny, but I lift my gaze to oblige him, restraining my smile.

“I love you.”

“From the depths of your soul?”

“Well let’s not be hasty,” I laugh against his mouth. He looks at me from an inch away. 

“You’re a horrible wretch.” The banter feels like sparks inside me. “And I love you. From the depths of my soul.” We take a moment to drink each other in, his survival and return relaxing the knot in my heart that’s been there since that unspeakable day. Hawke smirks again, that glimmer of ever brewing mischief gracing his smolder. Maker, how I missed this man.

“Can we get to it?” I ask with a saucy glance.

“Oh, are we not? I have to inform you that you are at least seventy five percent in charge right now, Rose.” I tilt my head to scold him with a nip on his nose and then grip him tightly within me, drawing myself off of him languorously, sinking down again. We fall into a rolling cadence, consecrating my treasured window seat with the force of our yearning. 

It feels like another first time, a better one.

He handles my hip on my right and gently works his hand over my breast on the left as our pace gains intensity, rocking and churning in euphoric tandem. I drop my head back so he can press his lips to the underside of my jaw, leaning back to feel his full length pressed against my front, my pleasure gathering like a shimmer at the edges of my vision. Grasping me by the chin, Hawke fixes his eyes to mine, glossy and bright with unspilled tears, raw with emotion. Whatever he’s gone through, he’s been alone in the Fade for months, and if what he says is true, everyone else he’s encountered in dreams has ignored and dismissed him. I cradle his face in my hands to kiss him sweetly, earnestly, hoping the gesture adequately expresses my trust in him. 

He clasps me against him, gasping and panting against the line of my shoulder, muttering my name, raking his teeth over my skin. We grow tacky and then slick with emergent sweat as we toil, clinging, claiming one another all over again.

My cries are practically bucked out of me and by his smolder and his breathless smile, I can see he’s waiting for me to trip over the edge of my climax before he allows himself to follow. As I lose control, my thrusts grow longer and sloppier, a tide of pleasure washing me away, overpowering my nerves until I fall limply back. Hawke catches me and pulls me to him, cursing as he shudders into me again and again, his fingers digging deep into my flesh until they suddenly relax and he draws me back into my mountain of pillows, a gorgeous pile of mush beneath me. 

“Let’s do that again. Backward and inside out,” he gasps, his glazed eyes smiling ecstatically into mine. 

“Backward, inside out and in a wheelbarrow,” I add, covering his face in kisses and then nestling down against him, reminded of the divinity of his cuddle. Soft and satisfied, he slips out of me and I fall to his side to settle into the crook of his arm with my leg draped over him lazily. 

“Feels like we’re trapped in a glass of Cabot’s finest,” he says glancing about, then returning his look to me. He presses his lips into a sheepish smile as he stares up into the amber brume above us. “I was a little worried you’d forgotten about me to be honest.” His eyes are gently inquiring, and I catch his meaning.

“I could never.”

“What about–”

“It didn’t take. Not for long.”

“After all my hard work?” he teases me. I glance away, recalling how the Well of Sorrows had been the fracture that ultimately drove Cullen and I apart, how painful it had been in the aftermath desperately trying to retrieve something from the tatters of our relationship. How it’s muddling along as a stiff working relationship, our friendship still drifting somewhere outside our grasp, lingering feelings and history complicating our attempts to reclaim it. Hawke notices the slight withdrawal and presses his lips to my forehead.

“I suppose you read that ridiculous emergency love letter I wrote you.”

“It was ridiculous. And perfect,” I tell him.

“It was slapdash at best.”

“Addie thought it was the most romantic thing she’d ever read.”

“Maker, you let other people read it?”

“Well, you were dead. I didn’t think it mattered!”

“I’ll have my revenge eventually, you monster,” he threatens me with a mischievous look, stroking my shoulder. The letter remains folded around his scrap of scarf in my desk in Skyhold where it sat while the heaviest revelation gnawed at me daily.

“Did you really dream of me all those years ago? Pulling you from the dark?” I ask. Hawke looks down at our laced fingers, shockingly timid again and then back at me. 

“I did.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“It would have seemed like an absolute ploy to get you into bed!” he protests. I wobble my head, acknowledging it. “Or worse, shockingly creepy.”

“Fair enough,” I say. “So are you going to tell me about it?” He lets out a long exhale like I’m in for a story and pulls me back on top of his chest again. 

“I dreamed that I sat at the bottom of an abyss, hopeless and miserable. And you came down to me, that hair of yours drifting behind you, hand blazing with a green glow I didn’t understand at the time. I felt impossible lightness in that moment. So much that I chased it in all the years that followed.”

“And this is why you have a thing for redheads!?” I poke, tickling his sides in playful shock. He wrestles me under control with a smug look.

“Well I had a thing for you but I didn’t know how to find you except by your bloody hair. Nobody’s hand lit up like this. I didn’t even know you were real really. Imagine my reaction when I heard rumors that a woman stumbled out of the Fade with a hand marked by the Maker. And then again when Varric starts sending me the details.”

“But you didn’t come to Haven.”

“They would have made me Inquisitor! You know this. So I waited. And I had other reasons to come of course, but the burning curiosity I had about you had me rushing to Skyhold.”

“That whole time,” I snort to myself, “you knew something I didn’t.”

“I may have wanted you for years, but it was only in the abstract sense. It felt like a ridiculous fantasy. And then I met you,” he says. I ride his falling chest down as he sighs wistfully.

“Well it certainly explains some of your Maker forsaken brazenness,” I tease him, remembering his dogged and ultimately successful attempts to win my affections. Hawke grins and squishes my cheeks between his hands and draws me down for a smooch.

“You did save me, you know. You prodded me right out of that festering hole I’d been hanging around in for years. Like the dream– better than the dream,” he says. “But now I think it may have been more literal. I think you’re meant to come to the Fade to find me.”

The thought is overwhelming, but I pull myself together. “All right. Tell me how.”

“I will– but there are things I need to tell you first.” 

“I have things to tell you too.”

“I know about Corypheus. We can have matching tankards engraved. ‘I killed Corypheus and all I got was this lousy mug.’”

“Do you remember the bargain I made with Flemeth?” I ask him and he perks up, tensing slightly.

“To drink. So… you drank? But what?”

“I drank from the Well of Sorrows. It made me– well I wouldn’t call myself a pawn exactly, but I’m subject to the will of Mythal. Of Flemeth.” “And I thought I got a raw deal with that witch. Maker. She’s– Mythal?” he processes momentarily and then looks at me again. “Are you all right?”

“It was another bargain. I was able to call upon her dragon to fight Corypheus at least. But who knows when she’ll call in more favors.”

“That’s not what I asked– are you all right?”

“Well, I hear a lot of voices now.”

“Rose,” he breathes, worry and sympathy and shock commingled.

“But I don’t understand them, so there’s that at least,” I add. He turns onto his side to face me and holds me tightly against him.

“Maker, what’s becoming of us,” he whispers, the lines in forehead deepening with distress. I burrow up against him, wishing we could simply merge. It would be easier that way. 

“What did you want to tell me?”

“Might be easiest to show you,” he says, though he looks strangely anxious, like I might push him away again. Hawke releases my hand and holds it above us, snapping his fingers so that a flame the size of a lit candle manifests above his fingertips. 

“Maker, Hawke. You're a mage now?” I ask. He waves it away again. He concentrates on the same hand and incants softly and the blue-green shimmer of a barrier flickers into being around us.

“Being in the raw Fade for a prolonged period has its effects. I learned a fair bit from the spirits in here. And I knew some from my father and Bethany. It’s surprisingly intuitive. At least the basics,” he says. “Not that I didn’t burn myself once or twice. But lucky for me, basic healing spells are easy to learn.” My finger finds the scar from the terror again and he catches my drift. “Yes, I healed that one myself. There’s a reason it’s rather monstrous.”

“Well it’s certainly the most interesting one,” I remark, brushing my fingers over it. I let slip a sigh I’ve been holding since Adamant, reality scratching from the background. “I wish I could just stay here.” Hawke scolds me with a look.

“If you stay here, I’ll be stuck in this odious place forever,” he says. “But I’ll come each night and we’ll make a plan. You’ll have to memorize the pieces and write them down when you wake. And you’ll have to find the others I contact. I’ll go to Bethany next since she’s already at Skyhold. And Varric doesn’t even dream so that will be on you to convince him.”

“Of course.” I press my face against his chest, relaxing into the cushion of his muscles and the safety of our complete intimacy. He’ll return. I lift my face again to confirm it.

“So you’ll be back?”

“If you’ll have me,” he says with a surprising degree of trepidation. I smack his chest and kiss him because it’s absurd. “I mean it Rose. There’s one last thing I have to tell you and you might change your mind.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Every love has its limits,” he says, his eyes lingering on me, the weight of whatever he’s about to tell me bearing down.

“Hawke. You’re making me nervous.”

“I’m nervous,” he says. “I’ve had to– I’ve had to do things. To survive in here. To contact you.”

“Do things?” My insides tense into a knot that claims me whole and then it tightens when he looks away, swallowing.

“Well. I’ve changed,” he says, frowning. I shake my head at his vague explanation. He’d already said he’d become a mage. 

“I don’t care. All that matters is that you’re here.”

“It’s not just me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not alone,” he says, and the meaning twists inside me again, prompting me to look. He couldn’t possibly mean–

But when I search his eyes more deeply, beyond the sky blue devotion, I feel it. The gaze of a perfect stranger staring back. The gaze of something that isn’t him.

Hawke is an abomination.

And I wake myself, because Maker, I’m not sure I can do this again.

[smreine]

Well dang. I definitely knocked myself out of crochet for a couple days. I was trying to hammer my way through a cotton halloween sweater. I know everyone says cotton is not for sweaters (it's breathable, it's heavy, it's coarse, most people don't like how it feels) but I am weirdly obsessed with the texture, and that's all that matters to me.

Thing is, cotton has no stretch to it, and I was stitching fairly tight double crochets, and this involved kinda punching my needle through the stitches and twisting my arm repeatedly. I found the bigger motions really satisfying actually. I was just plowing through hours of Star Trek and rounds on my sweater. I was amazed to be making so much progress.

Guess where this is going? Instead of injuring my left hand, which controls yarn tension, I seem to have injured my whole right arm. The pain runs from the inside of my wrist up inside my bicep where massage doesn't seem to do much. I am on day 2 with a great deal of right arm pain. It doesn't help that I thought yesterday "i'll just switch to something less vigorous" and still crocheted on a different project for two hours of course...lol

I need to stop-stop. Today I organize my yarn and craft supplies and plants and look at consolidating plant displays so that I can use one table for crafting. Then I can do some other fiber art. And crochet again in a few days.

On the bright side, I got a larger tapestry loom. A *much* larger tapestry loom than the little plywood things I have. It was only like $40 so I didn't think it would be all that big, and I didn't check the measurements. I NEVER CHECK THE MEASUREMENTS. This is a recurring issue in my life. (CHECK THE MEASUREMENTS.)

Now my entire kitchen table is tapestry loom, so today I'm going to be learning about tapestry weaving. lol. I truly did not expect I would like weaving - I've been weaving on smaller frames for a week and know I don't like it as much; I just wanted to do a few small things - so I might actually see if I can just make One Big Tapestry on this loom and then hang the entire thing like it's a frame. You know? Like put it up in my crafting space, loom and tapestry, and then I could accessorize with some other wall pieces to make an aesthetic... Really $40 isn't a bad price for a picture frame lol

[pbandjesse]

And that ends our second week of camp. And it was a better week. We didn't lose power as much. The air quality was better. The food improved. There was other issues for sure but it was a good week.

And today was a pretty good day. I had trouble sleeping. There was a prank last night that went wrong and there was all the screaming around 11:00 and it was very unsettling. Which then led to a big silly conversation in the group chat. And I did fall asleep but then I woke up again at 5:00 and when I woke up for real at 8:00 I fell out of the hammock and startled myself real bad. But I had to get ready and things would be okay it just take me a little while to get myself together.

When I was dressed and everything I worked on cutting the rest of the looms that we would need for today and then was just chilling and waiting for the day to start. I took a little walk and I'm for the time I got back and settled again Tatiana was there. And we got to work on any prep we needed for the day. CJ would also join us and it was really nice to see her. I had found her water bottle so I was good to get that back to her. And she told me that besides the prank last night there was also some possible people leaving camp. I've heard at least three people so far. And the prank that went wrong was because the stockade boys went to do like a sort of ding dong ditch situation over in the girls village, but then the girls chased the boys back to stockade. We're the rest of the stockade boys were on top of the gate and poured ice water on them. The ice water part apparently was not approved and the counselors got all their phones ruined. So it's kind of a nightmare. I'm not sure if someone was fired because of that but I would not be surprised. Property damage is no joke.

CJ left and me and Tati continued to work on the stick looms for the little kids. And then I set up the loom that I brought in to make a bigger piece and she worked on her loom and it was just really nice.

And the groups were pretty good today. I had to be a little strong worded with a few of them because they were being disrespectful about the project. But it was just like one or two. Overall the kids really liked the weaving and this was a really successful project. I had one little boy at the end of the day tell me he has been coming to camp for 3 years and that this was their favorite project of any project that they've done and it just made me feel really good.

After my two morning groups I went down to get lunch. I did forget the specialty ketchup. But it was fine. We had weird vegetarian chicken sandwiches. And we had a couple CITs sitting at our table so I went to sit outside and everyone came and joined me. While we were sitting there I made a specialty staff group chat and I called it the most specialtiest chat. And I made a tiny bus the avatar. For the most special staff members.

After lunch I went for a walk again and went up to arts and crafts to make sure that everything was set up for the afternoon. And my group would not be on time. Because right before they were supposed to come there was really bad lightning and thunder. It was the whole reason I had left the lodge early. Only a few minutes earlier than I normally did but I didn't want to get trapped down there. And so I went up hung out in my hammock until it was raining too much and then came under the tent to chill. A child had given me their plushie to fix so I worked on that and then the thunder got really bad so I checked on Tatiana inside. And I tried to figure out if my groups were coming.

They were all held up in the lodge because they couldn't walk them across the field. But once there was a lull in the storm they did come up and originally I was going to have them go outside but then this guy got really really dark so I brought them inside and we worked on the floor and they were the littlest camper so they didn't really mind. And they did a pretty good job overall. And I was really happy with their counselors because they really were engaged with the kids and we're doing a very good job. We had music going and everyone was doing art and it was great. He only real issue was that because it was storming they couldn't leave and so we did not get our half an hour afternoon break. I was a little sad about that.

But once the storm let up they were able to go and collected all of their art and then tipis came and I talked to all of them about what they were going to be doing. And I was able to convince two of them to be my test subjects for metal casting.

And it was so fun. It was really interesting seeing what they figured out and I let them aged you too so that we could make some test ones and make some mistakes and we figured out that the metal getting poor directly under the ground and then while it's a little dirty it does not really matter. And so we played with that for a while and I made a little bear as an example but he's a little strange. It's definitely hard to pour the metal but it is going much better than I was expecting on that scale. And the two kids I was working out with were just really fun.

I checked on the kids outside periodically too and they were making bracelets and beating and having a blast. I'm really glad I have new beads coming though because while Julie had given me some and they're great there's not a lot of bracelet string left like the stretchy kind. And it would be nice to have more colorful stuff. So hopefully that will be here soon.

I also helped a boy who was working on his homestead coup. And he had to make a quilt square and I got him to cut little squares to sew them together into the quilt square. Just a really simple one but he had to do three lines of stitches. His first two went well. He has trouble threading the needle but that's fine. The third one though he did inside out and I said no you are not going to get a right off for me you did it wrong. So I cut it off and you could just tell he was so upset. He wasn't like showing it but he's like I just want to be done and I'm like I get that but also you're not going to rush through it and not do it correctly. You're two means nothing and you shouldn't get an award if you're not going to do it right. So I made him do it again.

I'm serious about this like if you're going to come to me to get something signed up you're going to do it right or you're not going to do it at all. I really don't think that I'm being unreasonable. I think there should be standards.

But that was fine. Tipis cleaned up and they headed out just as my last group of the day showed up.

Am I supposed to do a really good job. It was really just a nice way to end the afternoon and end the week. I cannot say as much for their counselors. Who were mostly sitting inside and not engaging with the kids at all. But you know what I don't care. I was having fun and that's important as well. I did not have it in me to go and ask them to get there stuff together because at this point it's Friday and if you haven't figured it out that's not my problem. I'll talk to Ray about it maybe next week if it continues.

Once everything was cleaned up I said goodbye to Tatiana and everyone else and closed up the building. I walk down to the office to check in with Heather. I told her that I didn't feel great because I have a weird cough in the back of my throat and just like a little uncomfortable. And I really just wanted to go home. She said that was fine and I did not need to help with pick up if I did not want to. And so I said goodbye and I went home.

I did check in with Alexi right before I left. Reminded her that I had to leave at 2:00 on Monday.

And then I was on the road. I got back here around 5:00. I had a little trouble parking because I was crooked. And she had to get out and check and park again. But it was not that pic of a deal. I was really happy to come inside and see James and James made me leftover pizza while I took a shower. And it was very nice to wash my hair.

I kind of fell apart after that though. Eating the pizza was good. James also has put the air conditioner on. Sweetp was here and I love sweetp. And James would go and get ice cream and that was so kind. But I felt horrible for a couple hours there. I'm starting to feel a little bit better. I am almost sure it was dehydration but I was just really uncomfortable.

Now though it is time to go to bed. Tomorrow I have the market. And I might go to Canton crossing because I have some stuff I want to pick up and I think it's finally time to replace my flip-flops from high school. They have finally fall apart too much. I tried cleaning them this week and they just started to disintegrate. So that's pretty sad. But these things happen. It was time. I've had them since I was 17. Honestly they might be older than that I don't even know. But I hope tomorrow is a good day and I hope that the weather is nice. I hope it's not so humid anymore. I hope you all sleep well. Good night everybody.