#Like I was put on this bitch of an earth to be a special collections archivist and researcher

[chicago-geniza]

Coworker suggested I apply to an entry-level position in special collections archives at the Regenstein and I would be SO good at it but have no training in library science or archival work :(

[angelicdanvers]

THE CLEARING | luke castellan.

pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader prompt: “i could admire you all day.” by @normal-internet-user

summary: a sweet moment in the clearing of pearls. takes place before tlt. wc: 1.2k

a/n: i'm back in my luke castellan phase and this time, unapologetically :') ik ik, he's the enemy. totally :D i haven't written in so long, i really hope you guys enjoy this! i eventually will make a collection of these on my wattpad (of the same username). have a great day/night! <3

camp half-blood was just as rhythmic as any other day. the campers were up and running, tending to chores or activities, chiron was introducing some new campers, mr. d had his legs hitched up on the table and was slumbering.

and yet — somehow — something still felt off to y/n. she couldn’t put her finger on it. for a child of ares, she was undeniably observant of her surroundings, ready to feed a punch, but she didn’t see nor feel anyone around. 

often times, she realized it was her subconscious warning her of her siblings’ antics. despite coming off as a cold hearted bitch, y/n was quite the opposite and everyone in camp knew. whether they experienced her dual sidedness face to face, they heard of it and believed it. it wasn’t common for all the ares children, even clarisse, to like one person, sibling, mutually. yet y/n was that sibling.

she didn’t mind it. the eighteen year old was one of the oldest and made it her duty to keep everyone in check, even if that meant going against her easy way out — anger. her siblings often appreciated that despite not showing it, but sometimes clarisse had a lot to say.

this definitely wasn’t one of those times, though.

clarisse had just come by and helped y/n braid two of their younger sisters’ hair, the two chatting normally and without any apparent trouble.

then what in the world kept nagging her?

she kept sensing an odd aura around camp. maybe it was the gods’ doing. maybe.

sighing, she sat on the cabin floor, watching as the last of her brothers walked out. she began tying her laces, fixing the tongue on her boots. her instincts picked up as she heard soft crunches from the side of the cabin. grabbing her sword, she walked out diligently, observing the area around her and positioning the sword towards the crunches. she carefully examined the reflection, absolutely no sight of anyone. stiff, she shrugged off her unease, heading down the paths and to her clearing.

the clearing had a waterfall cascading at the heart, a sparkling little pool in the centre. for nine in the morning, the earth was still dewy and the crisp scent of the woodlands surrounded her senses.

inhaling deeply, y/n stepped towards her favourite boulder and slid her shirt off. one by one, she stripped down until she was in her bikini, and fixed her locks to be appropriate for swimming. once ready, she slowly dipped her foot in, the coolness of the water pulsing through her body and sending a jolt within her. 

a mere moment later, y/n was wading in the water, beginning to take laps around the pool. she always had a surge of energy in water that always made her wonder if she was actually poseidon’s daughter — of course, she wasn’t, but maybe she had to thank him for her love of water. maybe. maybe it was just her and the gods really didn't impact her.

submerging underneath, the girl opened her eyes and scanned the bottom. on her lucky days, she’d find little pearls the nymphs would leave behind. she'd have to personally thank them one day. her growing collection was all towards making special beads for campers who’d been there for a significant amount of time, symbolizing their individuality. she was thinking of giving annabeth and luke one to add to their necklaces before all else.

squinting, y/n saw a shimmering area in the corner. charging towards it, she picked it up and examined it with her hands; the water was getting rather hazy. these pearls were heavier, and with more texture than she’d ever felt.

smiling to herself, she carefully held it within her palms, swimming further up and merging out of water. she felt the sun shining on her, and she braced for the sudden light adjustment.

and then the sun was gone.

her brows furrowed, and y/n cracked open an eye, glancing towards where she felt the sun mere moments ago. instead of trees and simple clouds, she saw a lean figure wearing an orange shirt and khaki cargos, arms folded across their chest. she knew those arms.

“gods, what are you doing here?” y/n questioned, slightly lowering herself into the water and staring at the male before her.

he stifled a chuckle, his signature smirk playing on his lips. “what? can’t a guy be with his girlfriend?”

“luke,” she warned, “didn’t we agree to not be around each other unless we actually had a plan to sneak off?”

the curly haired boy shrugged. “like that’ll stop me.”

“luke, c’mon. if anything, we can’t have anyone find out like this.”

he shook his head, “they won’t know a thing.” he nodded towards annabeth’s cap. 

y/n had to admit, his desperation to be with her in any way was the most adorable and hot thing she’d ever witnessed. “did you at least ask her for it?”

“yes ma’am.”

y/n smiled toothily, wading towards the edge and climbing out. luke watched her every move, enthralled by her beauty. he wasn’t sure how he even convinced her to go on that first date, considering she had a knee on his chest and a sword to his neck. too bad he’s the best swordsman and pinned her down next. 

how could she say no after that?

she found him quite intriguing as well.

luke followed his girl as she went over to the boulder, grabbing her towel and gently drying herself off. he headed up behind her, taking the towel from her arms and drying her back off for her. 

“that still hasn’t healed,” he noted, tracing the scar on her shoulder blade. y/n’s body melted at his touch, and the chills she felt were replaced with flames. 

“yeah,” she whispered as luke softly turned her around, wrapping the towel around her body. he brought her body closer to his, putting his index to her chin and tilting her head up.

“you know, i could admire you all day.”

“and why is that?”

he laughed, “with that sexy soul and sweet hobby of collecting pearls, how could i not?”

y/n felt her cheeks grow hot, a soft grin making its way to her face. “i could say the same, pretty boy.”

"who are you giving those pearls to?"

"if i said who, wouldn't the surprise be ruined?" she quirked, tilting her head to the side a little. "eh, word on the street keeps mentioning the best swordsman."

luke smirked, satisfied with her answer, his black hair gleaming in the sly sunlight. y/n cupped the left side of his face, tracing her fingers on the scar to his right. their eyes couldn’t leave one another’s, an enigmatic energy floating amongst them.

“i want to kiss you,” luke’s voice was lower than before, his grip tightening around her waist.

“do it,” y/n mustered up, fluster traversing through every bone in her body. 

without second thought, luke pressed the girl against his body, capturing her lips. y/n’s fingers trailed to his hair, tugging at the curls as their lips intwined passionately.

the teenagers yearned for each other, their love enveloping around them as they remained  in their locked position. luke’s lips were as light as a feather but had a hold on y/n that she was sure no other could.

breathless, the two pulled away for a moment before luke pulled her in again for a quick, feverish kiss. “i love you,” he rasped, staring deep into her riveting eyes.

“i love you, luke.”

their admiration could only grow from there. 

or so they thought.

[megalony]

This Is Fate

This is my new Evan Buckley imagine and I am hoping to make it into a series. I'm really happy with this one and I would love to know what you all think and if you would like more parts. Enjoy,

Taglist: @lunaticspoem@sj-thefanthefan@hellsdragon@im-an-adult-ish@crazylittlethingg@allauraleigh@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ceres27@avyannadawn@sleepylunarwolf@coverupps@justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii  @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @stefansalvatoresgf @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @gillybear17 @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29

Evan Buckley Masterlist

Summary: Eddie is surprised when his little sister comes to LA and asks to stay with him. She needs a fresh start, a break away from everything back home, and her ex. When she meets the team, Evan takes a special interest in her.

Enjoy.

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

"Is Eddie home?"

(Y/n) didn't bother to try and smile. She didn't put on the brave face she had been practising on the ride down here. She didn't stand tall or square her shoulders or try and look the image of calm and collected like she hoped to when she thought about coming down here.

She knew she looked a mess.

Her jumper was hanging off her shoulders, being two sizes too big for her small frame. Her arms were bound around her chest to try and stop herself from shaking. Her lips were chapped and bloodied from where she had picked and bitten them over the past week out of nervous habit. If anyone looked at her hands they would see she had bitten off most of her nails and her thumbs were raw from where she'd started biting the skin too.

She looked windswept with disshevelled hair and dried tears swiped across her cheeks. And with a subtle trembling set in her bones, she looked almost hypothermic.

This was the right house; (Y/n) knew it. She recognised her brother's signature truck in the drive. And when she leaned to look around the kindly woman in the doorway and peered into the hall, she saw the pictures hanging around the walls. Eddie and Chris, scattered throughout the house. She was at the right address.

"I'll go get him for you."

When the woman turned and headed back inside, (Y/n) let out the breath she had been holding in and tried to smile.

That had to be Carla. The woman Eddie talked about a lot who helped look after Chris when he was at work.

There had been a look in her eyes, a small sense of familiarity and (Y/n) guessed Carla recognised her from one or two of the pictures Eddie had about the house. She just didn't know or realise who (Y/n) was now she was here in the flesh.

"Who is it?" Eddie finished his mouthful of pasta and wiped his mouth on his sleeve before he pushed up from the table.

Who was at the door? He wasn't expecting anyone and he couldn't think who it could be. What young women did he know who didn't work at the station or at Chris's school? It couldn't be anyone from the school coming round at teatime and if it was, Carla would have recognised them.

Just as Eddie stood up from the table, Chris hopped down and sped out the kitchen first to find out who was at the door. His interest was peaked at having a stranger at the door.

"Chris-" A shiver rolled down Eddie's spine and he cringed when Chris let out an excited scream. Who on Earth had turned up tonight?

"Auntie (Y/n)!"

Adrenaline coursed through Eddie's stomach and he hurried up when he heard Chris. (Y/n) was here? His youngest sister? Why was she in LA? Why hadn't she told him she was coming down? Eddie would have picked her up from wherever she arrived in town, he would have made the house look a bit tidier. He and Chris would have come to get her and shown her around and gone out for tea if they knew she was coming down.

He watched with wide eyes and a growing smile when Chris barrelled over to the front door and latched his arms around (Y/n)'s waist. He burrowed his head into her abdomen and clung to her like a monkey, still screaming excitedly into her stomach.

Out of all three of Eddie's sisters, (Y/n) was the one he was closest to and she was the one who had the best connection with Chris. It had been extremely hard on them both to leave (Y/n) back in Texas. And when (Y/n) moved, she moved closer to LA but she was still over an hour's drive from them.

Eddie could handle leaving his parents and his two other sisters, but he didn't want to leave his youngest sibling who he had taken care of all his life.

It had broken Chris's heart to know that his aunt would no longer be ten minutes away.

"Hey buddy- oh, you've grown so much." (Y/n) couldn't keep the tears from falling down her face, both from joy out of seeing Chris, and pain from how tightly he clung to her.

"You're here!"

"I thought I'd surprise my boys," (Y/n) leaned her head down and pressed hundreds of kisses against the top of Chris's hair until he was squealing and squirming against her. She held him tighter and willed herself not to burst into tears but as soon as she lifted her head and looked at Eddie, the waterworks started again.

"Alright, my turn. Chris, go finish dinner with Carla while I help auntie (Y/n) in please." Eddie gently turned Chris around in the other direction and gave him a nudge. (Y/n) wasn't going anywhere and Chris could cling to her and tell her everything that had been going on as soon as he'd finished his dinner and Eddie had the chance to hug his sister for himself.

Once Chris toddled off into the dining room, clapping his hands along the way, Eddie turned back to face (Y/n). He smiled brightly down at her and gasped when she flung her arms around his neck and reeled him in for a hug.

"I can't believe you're here. Why didn't you tell me you were coming down?" He kissed the side of her head and deadlocked his arms around her waist. But he could feel the smile fading from his face when he felt how badly she was shaking.

His hand planted down in the middle of her back and he tensed up the longer she held onto him without the intention of letting go.

Panic surged through him when he felt her tears soaking into his shoulder and Eddie started to realise she wasn't crying out of happiness, at least not anymore. And his eyes darted down to the doorstep in front of him and he could feel a new surge of panic igniting in his stomach.

Two cases.

That was more baggage than just a flying visit. Why had she turned up with all her belongings? Why didn't she call him? What had happened that he didn't know about?

"(Y/n), what's wrong? Why all the bags?" Eddie's hand pressed firmer into the middle of (Y/n)'s back when she tightened her arms around his neck and refused to pull away or look up at him. He didn't like this. Eddie never liked it when any of his sisters were upset or panicked. With their dad working away so much, Eddie had been the man of the house and he had always been the one his sisters went to with a problem they needed him to sort out.

He protected all of them.

He kept his left arm bound tight around her waist and he reached his right hand out to grab her cases. He dragged one inside and did the same with her other bag before he shuffled back with (Y/n) still in his arm so he could shut the door.

(Y/n) stayed limp and easily moveable, letting Eddie guide her through into the living room instead of standing in the hallway. But she started to shake when he finally leaned back and gripped her chin. He tilted her head up so they were finally looking at each other and when his thumb swiped across her cheek to brush away a tear, (Y/n) felt a whimper bubbling past her lips.

"C-can I stay with you, just f-for a while. Please?" Her hands unhooked from Eddie's neck and she let him hold her elbows and guide her to sit down in the armchair.

Once she was sat down, Eddie perched on the coffee table in front of her and rested his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward and arched his back out. His hand dragged across his jaw and down his chin while he nodded and tried to keep a calm expression on his face. His eyes kept wandering across to the dining room. Whatever (Y/n) was going to tell him clearly wasn't something good or anything she wanted Chris to overhear.

Eddie got the feeling that (Y/n) didn't even want to tell him what was going on and that hurt. She never had a problem talking to him about anything, but there was something in her eyes that told him this was harder than ever.

"You know you can always stay with me and Chris, you don't have to ask. What's going on? You didn't call, I could have come and got you… has something happened?"

(Y/n) tangled her hands and clenched her fingers together as tight as she could until they started to ache and burn.

"You, um, you know I said I was seeing someone, while I was staying with Chrissy?"

It was no secret that a little while after Eddie left Texas, (Y/n) had moved away too. She had gone to stay with their sister Chrissy who lived closer to LA than she did to Texas. It had been good to get away from home and have a fresh start, and (Y/n) had met someone while she was there.

Her eyes danced down to stare at Eddie's knees but she saw the way they tensed and how his hands curled into fists between his thighs.

"Did he try to hurt you?"

Eddie was wary of anyone each of his sisters got involved with. He didn't hate them right away, but he was cautious. He didn't want anyone to walk right in and think they could hurt the most important people in Eddie's life who he had raised since childhood.

He wasn't too thrilled this time that he knew nothing about the guy (Y/n) had been seeing. He didn't even know his name. All he knew was that (Y/n) had met someone and seemed to be happy with him. No photos, no pictures, no family get togethers where he tagged along. The relationship seemed fairly new so Eddie hadn't asked many questions or probed too deeply into it.

Something told him that maybe he should have. Perhaps he should have asked (Y/n) a little more about this guy and tried to make more of an effort. But (Y/n) wasn't a teenager or a little girl anymore, Eddie had to step back at some point even if he didn't want to.

"Not exactly… Eddie he scares me." Tears flushed (Y/n)'s face and her hands began to tremble in her lap until Eddie leaned across to hold them.

"Why?" He didn't understand. What kind of sense was Eddie supposed to make out of that?

"He was so nice at first, but he, I don't know… he got controlling, I think he was tracking my phone. He knew every move I made, he kept asking me to move away with him. I tried to end it but he kept coming round and he followed me home from work a few times too."

(Y/n) almost felt stupid for the way she was acting.

He had been kind. He was sweet and caring and loving and everything she thought she wanted in a partner. But (Y/n) didn't want someone to be checking every move she made. She didn't want to feel boxed in and she certainly didn't want to move as quickly as he did. Less than two months with him and he wanted her to move in with him. He even talked about marriage when (Y/n) knew him less than a year.

She wasn't ready for that and saying no to him was like talking to a brick wall. Her words seemed to bounce back and hit her in the face and he just pretended like she hadn't spoken at all.

He would worm his way back to her, attach himself to her and kiss her and engulf her and overload her until she changed her mind because it was easier to give in than stand up to him.

"Where is he now? Has he threatened you… (Y/n) you know you can tell me, leaving home in the middle of the night isn't like you."

She felt stupid. She felt stupid for leaving so suddenly as if her ex had been physical with her. His threats weren't like normal, obsessive threats. He didn't say he would hurt her if she left or he would always find her or get her back. He kept saying fate would bring her back to him and she could try all she liked, but she wasn't going to get far.

He scared her rather than threatened her and with how calm and placid he was, it just made things even worse. Not once had her ex hit her or pushed her or gave her a mark on her body that wasn't a simple love bite. He never became physical and during arguments he rarely even raised his voice at her. But he scared the living daylights out of her.

"I told him it was over, but he just said he'd be back for me soon, I don't know what he meant by that. Eddie I need to get away from him, I… oh God, promise you won't be mad at me or freak out, please?" (Y/n) dragged her fingers through her hair as more tears started to cascade down her face.

She hadn't told anyone yet.

"Why would I freak out?"

Adrenaline bubbled to life in Eddie's stomach and shot up through his chest. What was she going to tell him that would freak him out?

He leaned back and straightened his shoulders while his hands moved to rub up and down his knees to stay calm and collected. His lips pressed into a thin line and his eyes stayed concentrated on his sister, waiting for her to tell him what the next problem was.

When her hands moved to her jumper, Eddie panicked. He thought she was about to lift up her shirt and show him black and blue bruises littering her skin. He thought he would see scars or broken ribs or dried blood or some sort of injury that told him he had to find this guy and beat him to a pulp. He feared what his sister had been through and what kind of torment someone had dared to put her through.

He wasn't expecting a baby bump.

(Y/n) bit down on her lower lip so harshly it began to bleed again and her fingers trembled as she pulled her jumper up near her bra. She hadn't told anyone she was pregnant. She couldn't tell Chrissy, she would go straight to their parents. (Y/n) couldn't tell their parents because they would be disappointed or try to get involved and tell her she needed to marry this guy. And she didn't want to marry him.

Eddie was the only one (Y/n) could trust who wouldn't freak out, get angry with her or try to tell her what to do. He married Shannon because she was pregnant, but that had been easier. Eddie had been in love with her, marriage was something he wanted. For (Y/n), marriage to someone this pent up and controlling wasn't what she wanted. No matter how desperate her ex was to have her back and marry her.

"How- how far along? Does he know?" Eddie rubbed his hand across his jaw and let out a breath he didn't know he was holding in.

He would expect this from Chrissy. He always expected her to be the one to get into a strange relationship and have a baby. He didn't think (Y/n) would be caught up in a situation like this and it hurt. Eddie should have kept up better contact with her, called and visited her more often and protected her from something like this.

"Nineteen weeks, I think. I can't tell him, Eddie he'll never let me go, ma will want me to marry him and I- I can't-"

"Hey, hey calm down." When Eddie cupped her face in his hands, a tidal wave of tears streamed down her face as she hiccupped and tried to breathe. "I won't let anything like that happen, I promise. Just tell me what you want to do and I'll help you."

"I wanna d-do this on my own, without him. Here in LA, a new start."

(Y/n) wanted her baby. She had nothing against abortions, but that wasn't what she wanted. She was pregnant and she was going to have this baby, despite what her parents were going to think or what her ex was going to try and do.

He didn't know and that was what she wanted. He had no idea about her family or where her big brother lived or what he did for a living. (Y/n) could find a job easy here in LA. She could find herself a place nearby and be around Eddie and their Tia and Abuela and she could be surrounded by family and make new friends up here.

She could raise this baby on her own with her family and that was what she wanted to do. She just needed a little help.

Eddie was always telling her how good it was here, how Chris loved it and they had new friends and a great work family. (Y/n) thought she could make a life for herself here with her brother and family. His work family could become her new family here, Eddie always said how they were looking out for him and Chris and helping them any way they could.

"You can stay here as long as you want, Chris might not let you leave. And I'll make sure that creep doesn't find you, I won't let him near you."

Reaching out, (Y/n) curled her hands around Eddie's wrist and brought his hand to her lap. She ran her thumb across the back of his hand and managed to smile a little. "Can I ask another favour?"

"Anything."

"Don't tell ma or papi, not yet. Once I'm settled and sorted, I'll explain… I just can't deal with that hassle right now."

(Y/n) knew what their parents would do and say. They would try and get (Y/n) to come home. They would fret and try to talk her out of this, tell her to go back home to them and start fresh there or find her ex and talk things through with him.

They wouldn't be pleased to know (Y/n) was going to try and raise a child on her own when her ex was out there somewhere, unaware what was happening and perfectly happy to raise a child with her.

But this was her choice. She had chosen to come down here and (Y/n) wanted to stay. She wasn't here for a vacation. This was a fresh start, a chance for (Y/n) to try and make a better life and be with her family. She wanted to make new memories and a new life for herself and be happy here with her family.

She kept her eyes focused on Eddie's hand, but her smile softened when she felt him lean forward. He cupped the back of her head as gently as possible and leaned over so he could kiss the top of her head.

"I'll explain everything to them when you're ready." He would rather be the one to talk to their parents. He could always talk them down and they wouldn't argue this as much if they knew Eddie was on (Y/n)'s side and doing everything he could to look after her. "Come on, let's go have something to eat."

***

"So, will you introduce me to everyone?"

When Chris squeezed her hand, (Y/n) felt her smile brighten and she leaned her head on top of his when he pressed his cheek against her arm. His free hand curled around her arm and clung to her tighter as if he thought she was about to disappear.

He had barely left her side since she turned up in LA last week. It was as if Chris didn't truly believe that (Y/n) was in town to stay, he thought at any given moment she was going to get up and leave.

Every morning so far, Chris had burst into the spare room to wake (Y/n) up, making sure she hadn't disappeared during the night. And when Eddie was at work, like today, (Y/n) went and collected Chris from school and looked after him. It gave Eddie and Carla a break and gave (Y/n) something to do until her new job got lined up.

Eddie had put in a good word for her at the call centre and her interview went extremely well. She was going to be on the 911 calls in a week or two.

"Yeah. Bobby lets me ride in the truck sometimes." Chris tugged on (Y/n)'s hand and guided her into the station. He pointed at the trucks and weaved between them with (Y/n) hurrying to keep up with his strides.

"That's the Captain, right?"

"Yep. Dad!" He swung their hands between them and looked around the station for Eddie. He smiled brightly when (Y/n) kissed the top of his head and moved her free hand to his shoulder, clinging to him as he took her towards the stairs.

"Buddy, what're you doing here?"

"It's uncle Buck! He's the best." Chris stuck his thumb in his mouth and grinned when he watched Evan jog down the stairs towards them with a wide grin and his arms stretched out.

(Y/n) couldn't breathe. All the air got caught up in her chest as a lump formed in her throat and her eyes welled up with tears. She could feel her heart pounding against her chest so harsh she thought her ribs were going to fracture. And when her pulse thudded in her ears, it was all she could hear and feel as her skin pulsed and throbbed.

Before she knew what was happening, all the blood drained down to her feet and her eyes rolled back in her head that felt like it was pumped full of helium.

"Eddie get down here!"

"Dad!" Chris let go of (Y/n)'s hand when her head flopped forward until her chin was tucked into her chest and she started to drop. He watched her knees cave in but his faltering smile paused when Evan rushed forward to grab her. He watched Evan hook his arms around (Y/n)'s waist and let her fall into his chest, saving her from a harsh fall to the floor like he was a knight in shining armour.

Evan darted his eyes around before he carefully stepped closer and went down on his knees, easing the girl in his arms down along with him. Once he was on the ground, Evan carefully turned her around so her back was slumped into his chest and he reached his hand down to cup her chin and tilt her head back on his shoulder.

"What's going on? Buck what happened?" Panic flooded Eddie's voice as he bolted down the stairs and jumped down the last three to rush across the station floor. He reached inside the back of the open ambulance and swiped a medic bag before he made a beeline for his family.

He watched Chris flop down on the floor, his thumb still hidden between his teeth out of anxious habit while his eyes focused on Evan and (Y/n).

Eddie knelt down beside them, briefly ruffling Chris's hair to try and calm him down before he looked down at his sister. She was laid motionless in Evan's arms, slumped down and breathing fast and shallow.

"She- she just fainted, is that normal? Is this your sister?" Evan curved his right arm around her chest and began smoothing his knuckles up and down her sternum to try and apply pressure and bring her back round.

"Yeah, yeah this is (Y/n)."

Eddie kissed Chris's cheek and patted his back before he nudged his son to gently ask him to shuffle back a few paces.

"(Y/n)? Are you back with me?" Shuffling around in the medic bag, Eddie found a blood pressure cuff and slid it up her right arm. He set her hand down on his thigh and brushed his thumb across the back of her hand for a few seconds.

Her head was starting to move from side to side on Evan's shoulder and her fingers started to twitch and clench.

Lifting his gaze, Eddie glanced across at Evan and when their eyes locked, Evan tried to smile politely as he reached down for (Y/n)'s shirt and gently pulled it back down over her stomach from where it had ridden up. Evan sat her forwards and let Eddie take over and have her lean up against him instead.

"Chris, why don't we go get (Y/n) a drink?" Evan waved his hand across at Chris and stood up, letting Chris take his hand and guide him towards the stairs. It would be best to give them both a moment to talk and let Eddie calm her down if she was going to panic. And after collapsing, she could probably use a drink to boost her back up.

"Alright, BP's a little high, nothing worrying." Eddie spoke to himself as he slipped off the cuff and found a heart rate monitor which he clipped onto her index finger. "Hey, there we go." He relaxed a little when (Y/n)'s eyes began to flutter and she tried to focus in on him.

Her hand bashed around shakily until she found Eddie's hand and she gripped as tightly as she could muster. Her head was starting to pulse and throb like she had been whacked and knocked out and her heart was going haywire in her chest.

"What happened?" Eddie watched her eyes dart around and for a second he thought she was looking for someone. But when her gaze settled back on him, she relaxed against him and seemed to melt.

"I- I just went dizzy, I'm okay." (Y/n) gave Eddie's hand a squeeze and tried to muster up a smile. She wasn't sure what came over her. She blacked out quicker than she ever had before, but she felt okay. She wasn't in any sort of danger or hurt in any way, and she had blacked out at the right place.

"Why don't we go sit down? You don't usually pass out very often." Eddie moved so he was crouching in front of her and held his hands out until (Y/n) gratefully took them.

She let him pull her up and leaned into his chest when Eddie curved one arm around her waist and kept his other hand tangled with hers for added support. (Y/n) tilted her head into his shoulder and followed his direction towards the locker room. He wasn't so sure (Y/n) would get up the stairs into the kitchen right now when she was shaking and had only just come back round.

Eddie would rather get (Y/n) sat down in the locker room and make sure she was back to feeling herself before risking moving anywhere else. He still didn't know why she had passed out. He didn't know whether (Y/n) hadn't eaten a lot today, whether she just felt unwell or if it was something to do with the baby. He wanted to keep an eye on her for the time being.

"Are you sure you feel okay?" Eddie moved his hand to her shoulder when she slumped down on the bench and braced her hands on her knees. The way she tilted her head back on his arm and smiled tiredly yet sweetly up at him calmed down one of his many nerves.

"Just lightheaded, I'm sorry."

"Don't be, just stay here a minute while I get Chris and find you a drink, okay?"

(Y/n) nodded and when she felt Eddie kiss her temple, she let her eyes fall closed and started to rake her hands up and down her legs to try and liven herself up a little. She would have to apologise to Chris, she had probably scared him.

Her hand moved to drag through her hair, brushing it back behind her ears and out of her eyes as she took deep, calming breaths.

"I hope you didn't collapse because of me."

Tremors rattled through (Y/n)'s bones until she was trembling back and forth on the bench. Her blood ran cold and disappeared down to her toes as her fingertips went numb and she could barely feel her nails piercing through her leggings into her thighs.

She didn't want to look. She didn't want to turn and look over her shoulder at the owner of that voice she knew she had heard before. But she didn't have to. He walked around until he was stood in front of her, arms casually folded over his chest and his shoulders pushed back into the lockers so he was slanted at an angle.

"Evan." His name fell from her lips in a whisper that he could barely hear, but it made his lips curl into the purest smile (Y/n) had ever seen. And it made her stomach churn.

"Nice to see you too, babe." His hands clenched over his biceps and his head tilted to the side as his eyes stayed focused on (Y/n). He could see she was barely able to catch a proper breath and her eyes were blown so wide there was no colour left in them, just black holes that went on for miles.

"Why… why're you here?"

"Me? I work here. Question is what're you doing here? Last time I checked, you didn't live in LA." Evan pushed off the lockers and took a step closer which caused (Y/n) to lean back and tilt her head up to stay focused on him.

He never told her he lived in LA either. She knew he wasn't from Chrissy's hometown. She knew he was only visiting while he was off sick from his job. But he never said he was a fireman. He told her he worked for the emergency services, but never which department and it never came up because he was recovering from multiple leg surgeries. He hadn't been at work.

Evan never told her where he worked, where he originally lived or the nickname everyone called him. If she'd of known, she wouldn't have come down to stay with Eddie.

If she knew her brother's best friend was the person she was trying to get away from, she would have risked going back home to Texas and faced their parents.

She had landed herself right in the middle of Hell by coming here.

"Did you… was… was this on purpose? Did you always know, about Eddie?" Tears pooled in (Y/n)'s eyes but she couldn't find it in herself to begin crying. She had cried so much about Evan and this whole situation. Crying in front of him didn't feel right and she didn't have the willpower to do it.

She just wanted to go home.

Had he always known? Had he known from the moment he met her that she was Eddie's little sister? Is that why he was so keen on staying in a relationship with her and making this obsession work?

"Finding out I'd fallen for Eddie's little sister was a bonus." He scratched his hand across his jaw and took another three steps forward until he was stood between (Y/n)'s legs. Towering over her like a skyscraper. "This is fate, baby girl."

He hadn't planned anything. He fell for her and once he found out her last name, everything clicked and it made things even better. He had fallen for his best friend's younger sister. And Evan wasn't letting her disappear from him again. She wasn't leaving him when they had a connection, when they had something special that Evan wasn't giving up on.

He knew what they had was what he wanted. Why could everyone else find love and relationships and stick together and start families, but not Evan? Why wouldn't it work for him?

Well, not this time.

This time, Evan was taking control. He had something with (Y/n) and he wasn't letting it go because she was scared to be with him and face that this was special. Evan believed in fate, and he believed that this was a sign. This is what he'd been praying for, and he wasn't letting it go so easily.

(Y/n) could feel the panic dwelling up in her chest and taking over her body when Evan leaned forward. She wasn't sure where his hands were going, but while one hand moved to rest beside her hip on the bench, a chill tore through her when his other hand curved over her stomach.

He knew. He knew what she had tried to hide from him. He knew why she had come down to LA in the vain hope that if he went back to Chrissy's, he wouldn't find (Y/n) there and wouldn't find out she was pregnant.

His thumb glided across her stomach and when he looked down, his smile would of made (Y/n) melt if this situation were any different.

"And now I know you're pregnant, and I can see from that look on your face that it's mine."

(Y/n) wanted to cry when Evan leaned down and kissed her. She wanted to cry for every emotion he's made her feel and every way he'd screwed with her thoughts and emotions and controlled everything she tried to do. She wanted to cry for the baby she had tried to protect and keep safe from him.

But (Y/n) never truly believed she would keep this from him. She had a gut feeling that Evan would find out sooner or later, some way or another. She knew he would find out she was having his baby. And once he knew, he wasn't going to let her go.

And she couldn't stop the way she curled her hand around his wrist when he swiped his tongue across her lips and into her mouth and he bit her lip, devouring every breath she tried to take.

"Don't think for one second that I'm gonna let you keep them from me. This is our baby, you're not doing this without me."

[kneelingshadowsalome]

I Never Missed You 3/3 (Bodyguard!Ghost x F!Reader)

Word count: 6.4 k

Tags/warnings: 18+ only. Romance, eventual smut, fluff, light angst, banter, pining, flirting, minor injuries, major character death, HFN ending. Lady/Knight dynamic. Unequal pairing trope. Bodyguard AU. Reader is a rich bitch (how else could she afford a PPO?)

Summary: You hire a bodyguard to protect you and hunt down the one who's been sent to take your life. This man was your lawyer's first recommendation, and you never even looked through his file because you had better things to do. But it soon turns out that this man – this Simon Riley – is very talented... Talented in driving you crazy.

A/N: A three part fic based on this request. Angst and smut and fluff (the holy trinity!) in this last part.

Part 1 Part 2

Juice spills all over the table from the oranges you press, but you don't mind. There has been a soft smile on your face all morning.

Simon's still sleeping, and you want to surprise him with a special breakfast today: scrambled eggs, freshly pressed orange juice, berries, and…

"You took my shirt."

You flinch when you hear his familiar rumble not a few feet away. The staircase wailed like a widow last night, but obviously, this man has learned to avoid the creaky spots when he wants. A goddamn heavyweight ninja...

"I'm sorry." You lick your fingers from the juice and try to feign innocence. The sleeves of his black tee reach your elbows, but you're not sorry. Nor do you feel bad about seeing him in your kitchen without a shirt.

"It was not an accusation," he says, the corner of his mouth curving a little, the dark eyes that made love to you last night giving you an approving once-over.

You approach him with a glass full of sun, but it's you he grabs in his hold. Your fingers find the scars on his back as you two embrace, and you feel an odd churn in your stomach.

"What's this…?"

Your hand floats across the embossed, white ridges that crisscross his back. The collection forms an entire mountain range, and it's chilling because you've only brushed the space between his shoulder blades.

"A reminder. To trust no one."

"No one…?"

"No one."

You remain a coward and refrain from asking for more details. You doubt he would even share them.

"I made you breakfast," you lower your gaze to the colorful palette you've gathered on the plates. Is it some sort of an instinct to want to feed a man after they've fucked you so good?

"So I see," he says, ever more approvingly. Then you're lifted on the table, next to the plates, like you're the breakfast.

Soon you're only wearing his shirt and your tiny socks, which Simon decides to leave on, too busy with getting his face between your legs. 

No one has done anything like that before… No one has chosen you over breakfast; an entire abundance of delicacies laid out. 

He licks you until your legs are trembling on that tortured back. You're pure, you're untouched by evil, and he carries your naivety on his shoulders like it weighs nothing. He flattens his tongue on you, sucks your flesh, tortures you on that table and doesn't even mind his teeth all too much. The peak stubble he hasn't yet shaved stings and burns as he moves across your folds. 

Saying that the coarse chin on your silk feels good would be an understatement. You come undone next to the breakfast, clad in golden light shining through the small window left uncovered.

You feel alive, and raw, and stellar. A shooting star, a comet high above the sky, although the space through which you ignite consists of golden rays of sunlight and the scent of orange juice. 

He takes the shirt back after he's done. After you're done and try your best to return back to earth with shaking legs. The only thing you're wearing is your socks, but you feel completely naked before him, dopey and dumb before the day has even started. Simon only licks his lips, throws that shirt on, and grabs his plate.

He dares to comment that there's no hot water. You put the kettle on with a wobble, feeling hotness on your cheeks while he sits down to eat his second breakfast like it's the most natural thing in the world: to wreck you first thing in the morning.

…............................

Simon.

He fixes the door on your fridge. He helps you clean your garage and fucks you on the table. Oily, dusty, filthy table. You go to shower after, together. You're giggling; he's smiling. Fully, now.

You want to ask him, Is this free of charge too…? Not just his cock... But his smiles. His assistance and support. The looks he grants you when you come out of the shower, ready to be licked to ruin.

He calls you his Princess to tease you just right. To get you in a state where your eyes flash with half-rage, half-lust, just before he slips inside you. He knows exactly which strings to pull – and then calls you love just when you're about to give him a piece of your mind.

You end up on the table, on the counter, on the floor. He takes you while your jaw slowly falls open from his audacity and his cock, splitting you apart with slow love. The first time he takes you in a missionary, you squirt. It's like his cock was made for you. And he dares to tease you about that, too.

"Did ya just squirt all over my cock?"

You have tears in your eyes, shame on your cheeks, and he's wetter than a wet dog down there… then he makes you squirt again, high on the lewd, obscene praise you just gave him with your pussy. 

Your cunt can't lie; he knows it by now. So it's futile to keep your lips sealed either.

Kiss me. 

That's what you would've usually ordered. But after an exceptionally quiet and passionate and desperate fuck that leaves you both catching your breath, leaves him hovering only inches from your sweaty upper lip, you whisper…

"I want to kiss you."

You expect him to laugh or mock you, at least crack a stupid joke or two. But he doesn't. Instead, his eyes drop to your lips, and he swallows with a heavy roll, then closes the gap between you two. Covers your mouth with his, uses that strong jaw to open you for devouring.

The kiss lasts long enough for you to begin breathing through your nose. Your inner walls grip him, still buried deep inside, and the gusts of exhales passing through his nostrils hit your face with pure bliss. He’s a little breathless when he parts – withdraws just enough to look into your eyes.

“Will that do...?”

There is a drunken vigor in his eyes of crushed amber, but to your shock, you hear your own question laid out before you. The one you asked when you were going to that party.

Will I do…?

Your hands find his jaw and cup his face from both sides, drawing him back to your lips.

“Yes." 

You will more than just do. 

And then you say… 

"I want more.”

He chuckles a soft scoff on your face. 

"Greedy little thing." 

Then he swallows you again. You kiss for a good few minutes while he grows half-hard inside you. It's the most romantic kiss you have shared with anyone, ever. He tells you how spoiled you are between the breaths you both catch, then spoils you some more with his mouth and tongue and cock. 

You start to curl together in the evening. Just to watch a comedy. He massages your feet and smiles more every day. It's kind of domestic, how he wrinkles his nose at your fine white wine and asks what it is in that decanter you have in your study. When you say it's just some old bourbon, he goes and gets himself a glass like he's finally made himself at home. 

It makes your heart grow thick from love. You almost forget why he's here in the first place.

When you ask him about the plan, he explains it to you in detail while kissing his way down your ribs and navel. He takes his sweet time while doing it, kissing the inside of your thigh, the hollow place below the knee, the tender skin under the knee. He kisses your calf and the ankle bone while holding your leg up for his lips with just one hand. Then he does the same to your other leg, but this time, kisses his way from ankle to thigh until he reaches…

You.

You've forgotten half the plan by then because you realize Simon hasn't looked at you like you're a steak or garbage in a long, long time. 

He looks at you like you're a queen. You could say he worships you, but the thought alone makes your heart flutter with the anxiety of a fragile hummingbird. 

Simon gets you your groceries and gets himself only a beer as a reward. You would happily offer him a case if you knew it would make him happy.

But you don't really know what would make him happy. You don't know anything about this man. You know he likes it when you're dolled up and angry. He likes you when you're sleepy, without makeup, wearing only his shirt. He likes to fuck you from behind and hold you close after. He likes to give you a wash, likes it when you wash him. He likes to watch the two tall trees outside the window sway when there's a strong wind. 

"What makes you happy?" You ask one night after you've had him in your mouth.

"Blowjobs," he answers with a straight face, and you shove him in the shoulder. Nicely. Softly.

"No, for real."

"I dunno." He sighs and turns to stare at your ceiling with a bothered look. It's a tricky question, perhaps. Or weapons, not willingly gifted. 

"Dogs," he shrugs after a while. "A day of silence. Good whiskey."

He doesn't grant you weapons. You get some rope, but not enough to choke him with it. He trusts no one.

"Why don't you like missionary…?" You continue roasting him while curling your fingers around the pale hair on his chest.

"I never said I didn't like it."

"Don't avoid the question, Mr. Doggystyle."

You prop yourself up on your elbow and place your palm flat over his heart. His stare slowly drifts from the ceiling back to you.

"Simon. Why do you always fuck me from behind?" 

He raises his eyebrows like he's innocent of the crime he's being accused of. "Not always."

"Seriously, Simon."

The smug look returns; it gives his eyes a delightful little spark and tugs at the corner of that kissable mouth.

"I like your ass."

"But not my eyes?"

The smile dies, and he gulps down a short surprise, caught between truth and dare. But then his eyes settle like the calming sea under a full moon. Stern, but not remorseless. Bold, but not heartless. If anything, he's naked and bare.

"Darlin'. Love your eyes the most."

Your heart does a backflip. You've been a fool because what else has he done but search for your eyes first thing in the morning? Given you flashes of mischief over breakfast, made love to you with those eyes as you cum around his cock? That liquid fire and smoke hasn't left you since he stepped inside this house.

You breathe together; you can feel the slow rise and fall of his chest. There was a time when you thought this man was incapable of love, but now you fear he has never been allowed to love enough.

"We never talked, you know," you whisper. His heart swells underneath your palm like a sail.

"What'ya wanna talk about?"

"Us."

"So talk."

Walls are raised so quickly you feel them knocking the warmth out of your body. It's cold, it's Antarctic, the technique he uses to withdraw. Your room turns into a kingdom of ice from the cruel, emotionless indifference he emits. 

You've been a fool, yes... And a child.

"You're making it hard," you say, noticing how the man starts to tense up under your fingertips. This is not the way, but you're not smart enough to stop your rampage.

"What happens when you've done your job?"

He doesn't sigh. He doesn't even think twice before giving his answer.

"I go back to the base."

You know now why he's called a ghost. You wonder if he was ever even here. Simon becomes a reminder for you, a reminder to trust no one.

"...Right." You pull your hand away slowly. As if it somehow helps with the pain to pretend you haven't just touched a hot stove and ended up getting your fingers burned.

He notices how you tense up far more than he. The arm around your waist goes tight, and you wonder if you've always been a bloodied steak to this brute, a stupid little princess with your wines, sighs, and wet eyes. He just doesn't want to let go of the last bites of his fine, delicious meat.

"I never thought you wanted a relationship," he says with a hollow voice, and the red rage nearly blinds your sight. You're too riled up to even yell at him.

"Love…" he tries for the last time.

"Get out of my bed."

…............................

His musk still clings to you as you descend the stairs the next morning.

He's sitting at the end of the steps with hunched shoulders and a tense back, exiled into the man he was the first day you met him. Your heart bleeds from the sight, wondering whether Simon has waited there the whole night after you kicked him out of your bedroom. But the boiling bile in your stomach forces you to lift your chin and draw your shoulders back as you walk down those steps with an audible clatter as your heels clack across the parquet.

He must've heard you before you make a racket fitting for an angered queen, but rises only after you've made it halfway through the staircase. You won't allow yourself to even look his way as he draws a deep breath.

"Love. Sweetheart."

But with that, you flash the man a stare full of despise as you walk past him.

"Don't."

"Let me���"

"Don't say a word," you take a sharp turn and raise a hand to shield you from whatever brutality he would like to stain you with. "You don't talk to me. You just do your job. Ok?"

His chest swells with another deep breath, but otherwise, this man is still as a statue again.

"Ma'am."

It takes you a while to notice he has regressed back to that term again, and you tilt your head. The movement is that of a warrior who swings her sword to a guard before a fight. He crosses his hands over his crotch as if to shield the most vulnerable parts from a low blow, but his eyes are full of hateful hurt as he gives you his most pretentious, mocking tone.

"Miss."

Your heart skips a beat – Simon becomes the thing you miss. 

A hit and run.

You have to resist the urge to grimace at the pure venom in his voice - it doesn't matter what he calls you because that tone seeps straight through your skin like lye. It hurts; it burns to see him even more withdrawn to his shell than when you first met. He retreats far beyond the front line, he goes further than the rear, and it's a bitter defeat for both of you. 

This man has rubbed your feet while you've laughed at a stupid joke in a sitcom. The same man has been inside you – night after night after night. It rips your heart to see a distant, perfectly blank expression on his face after you've seen him give you a plentitude of relaxed and wicked little smiles. 

You share the breakfast in funeral-like silence. You wish you could pay him to stay home so that you can go through your day filled with terror and longing without Simon Riley following you around.

"I've been meaning to update you on new intel about the target," he breaks the silence, and your heart feels like it's being put through a wringer. Simon hasn't even touched his breakfast. "Turns out he received training in a sniper unit."

"So?"

"There's a high chance he might prefer to use long-range weapons."

He's professional, curt, clinical. Even more so than when you first shook hands with him. And all the while, those eyes burn you; they examine you like you're the most challenging puzzle he's ever tried to solve. He's cold as ice with his words and hot as hell with that stare. Those eyes seem to pierce your clothes, they even reach under your skin.

"Right," you say without giving him a single look back.

"We have to update our protocol asap."

Our…

We.

"The protocol…" you whisper and finally look up at him. His lips draw into a thin line as he sees how your walls crumble; they didn't last even half a day.

"Simon, I can't do this," you say, your voice breaking. The tears are only seconds away. They blur your sight, but as he rises from the table slowly and takes a hesitant step towards you, you turn your head back to your toast with a snap.

"I want to change bodyguards."

From the corner of your blurred vision, you see how he raises a hand. If you didn't know any better, you could say that he's at his weakest. But the hand falls straight back and gives a twitch by his side. You wonder why he even bothers to disguise the spasm so lousily as a stretch. It's as if he wants you to see that he's in tumult too.

"I'll stay until–"

"No. Get out."

"Miss. I'll just get my things," he says, and you nod briefly. No exchange of gazes is probably the best policy after informing him you no longer need his services. It's better to rip the band-aid off with one yank than try to pretend that this relationship was something more than sexual. 

You know he came to your house with minimal belongings, a duffel bag full of spare clothes and a large case which you supposed was a container for different weapons. That is why you notice he takes a surprisingly long time to get those things and leave your house.

When he finally emerges from his room – no, not his room, but the guest room, you remind yourself – he places the luggage in the hallway and comes back to you, probably to say his polite farewells.

"You won't let me speak to you, so I wrote you a fuckin' letter."

You turn to solid stone as he places an envelope between your water glass and cup of coffee. You sit with your heart thumping in your chest as he picks up his things, walks to the door, walks out of it and out of your life.

It's one of those moments you wish you could freeze and rewind. Do everything differently so that it wouldn't have to come to this. Instead, you listen how the front door clunks shut.

Then you send your trembling fingers up from your lap and onto the pure white thing that holds his secrets. You pry it open and find yourself reading the lines, scribbled with surprisingly sophisticated handwriting, through a round of hot tears.

They cloud your vision, but they don't cloud his words.

You skim through the letter in a frenzied hurry once, then again with more control, and try to remember how to breathe.

He shares shrivels from his past, ugly, horrid things which make your breakfast nearly push up your throat. He tells you he stopped dating eleven years ago for a reason. He writes that he would rather be tortured again than make you suffer from his past and incapacities.

There are certain lines that enter your heart like a thief with the most delicate crowbar. Lines like I'm not good with words and You must know by now that I'm a broken man.

Lines like I'm not a fucking poet but I'll miss your warmth even under the desert sun.

Some lines make you want to tear the letter to pieces. Lines such as Don't throw your diamonds in the dust and I can't give you what you deserve.

He thinks you can't take his darkness, so he shelters you from it. He says he would come back to you if he could. You don't know what the hell he means by that. 

If he could? 

What the fuck prevents him?

You sit inside your empty, lonely house, confident of the fact that it is not you who prevents it. It was not you who just sent him out that door. Who commanded him to leave because you didn't need his services anymore.

The letter makes you cry, and then it makes you boil.

Such sweet words, and so many empty sentences. If only, if I wasn't, if I could.

You get the feeling that he's mocking you again. If only you weren't a princess and a spoiled brat, then perhaps he could reconsider this relationship.

You leave the letter there; you leave your coffee and your breakfast. You almost wish someone would shoot you and put you out of your misery as you call a taxi and go to the heart of the city.

You're completely numb as your fingertips brush silk and linen and all the newest designs. They curl around tiny bottles of bright nail polish and touch the perfumes made from the last free wildflowers of a burning world, but you feel nothing stir inside.

You're emptier than the echo that rings through the malls and corridors of stone; you feel poorer than all the beggars on the street. Shopping always makes you feel better. But now you want to burn all your money, throw your jewels out the window, torch all the fucking stores like some bloody anarchist. You leave every store without buying a thing and try to remember what it was to have lunch without drowning in tears that can't be cried in public.

"I can't give you what you deserve."

That's the line that scalds you most. You know what he meant when he wrote those words, seemingly humble. But your bleeding heart twists that sentence until his words are a testimony of pure rejection.

You have money, so you don't deserve love, is that it?

You want to find him and shake him. It's not about what you deserve or what he deserves. It's not about what anyone deserves. And if the bloody man thinks he doesn't deserve love only because he's made his home in suffering, then he's the last person who should be allowed to decide who deserves what.

You walk through the crowds and streets like a small whirlwind, on the verge of yelling your heart and loneliness out in the air until your vocal cords are raw. You're so riled your mind doesn't even register the gunshot.

The only thing you hear is a glass shattering next to you just before an entire boulder hits you.

His scent envelops you like a safe, warm blanket, even if that blanket weighs a ton and causes your jeans to grate and tear as you two hit the asphalt. Simon gives you bruises, scrapes and burns all across your left side as your body grinds through the dirt. 

Another shot is fired; this time, a car's glass is shattered above you, and the body surrounding you tenses until you worry your bodyguard has been hit. The bodyguard you fired this morning, who's still doing his job, who never even left you…

People are screaming and running in different directions all around and above you, but time comes to a halt as Simon rises only an inch or two.

"Stay down," he gruffs in your ear. "Don't move. Don't you fucking move, ok?"

The whole world could've gone silent from the way you only hear his voice. His words. His distress. You remain still as a stone and look up at him – your lips part because he's looking at you with impatience that's not just pressing; it's demanding.

"Yes," you stutter, "yes, of course."

Someone's pissed because a third shot sends him right back over you, and only then do you notice you're clinging to him, to his jacket and his shirt, like he's a human shield. Then the human shield speaks again, and the words that come out only make you grip him tighter.

"He has to change the magazine soon. You stay right here, ok? I'm going in."

"No, don't," your fingers curl around his clothes and try to keep him on top of you. "Don't go. I'm afraid."

I'll get you a dog. 

A day of silence. 

I'll buy you some good whiskey. I promise…

"I'll be right back," he murmurs, more softly now. "I promise." 

Then he rips himself off you. Your body misses his heat like the desert sand must miss the sun, and you realize you've ruined everything as you finally get to watch him in his element. He's agile and beautiful as he reaches for his gun, takes it out, and prepares it in a few seconds to fire death upon your faceless enemy. You've ruined everything because if Simon goes in, he might get killed – he's a human, not a shield, he's not even a weapon – and all the things you never said will haunt you for the rest of your life.

"Don't leave me," you want to reach for him, but don't dare disobey his orders. It should send you laughing: that you're finally doing precisely as he says. You finally trust your life with him, just before he leaves you, leaves you, leaves you. 

"Simon–"

"Sweetheart. I never left you."

He looks straight into your eyes. You gulp the tears now.

"I'm so sorry," you whisper, and someone is screaming; everythings a buzz, cars whir by as you tell him all the things you meant to say weeks ago. "I never wanted you to go. I always liked you. I– I think I love–"

"Shh. Don't you do this to me now."

The words are so soft you have to struggle to hear what he's saying under his breath. It's like he's talking to himself, and you realize you're an asshole, saying things like that to him when he's trying to concentrate on his mission and his job. But you just can't help yourself sometimes. No one in your life compares to him. No one has caused such a ruckus, such turmoil, such devastation and such love.

"Do what?" you whimper there, motionless on the ground as he gives you a last, painful look before his stare fixes on the piece of glass still unshattered, the dim, transient mirror of a store window he uses to locate movement in one of the buildings. 

Then he takes a peek over the car, and you hold your breath – he's the bait now, and ducks his head immediately as two more shots are fired. You don't even have the strength to scream; your whole body simply shudders from the echoing sound of pure fear – how can he play tag with death like that? 

And then he leaves. 

He rounds the car and darts for the building and the sniper; he disappears from your vision so quickly you wonder if these past weeks have been but a dream.

A hit and run.

"Do what…" you repeat on the ground and curl into yourself even though he said you shouldn't move. You figure it's not that big of a crime to go into a fetal position when you don't know if he's ever coming back to scold you for breaking the rules.

You want to close your ears from the sounds that follow – you fear you'll jinx something if you listen too closely to what happens in that building. You try to concentrate on your breaths, slowly bringing you back to your body. You haven't even noticed that there's blood running down your arm.

It's funny how you only notice the pain after seeing the flowing crimson that makes small rivers around your fingers. You don't want to look at your burning shoulder because the shock is already here. 

The searing pulse gets worse as you hear another shot, then another shot. Those sounds pound inside your shoulder and send more fire down your arm. Minutes or hours pass and you think how strange it is that everything's completely still, how bizarre it is that there are no sirens, no cars, no screaming. They've finally closed off the roads.

You only start to cry when you see that he's alive.

You try to rise from the ground to meet him – a bleeding princess, waking from her beauty sleep and realizing everything's just been a bad dream, greeting her knight in a black pair of fitted tactical pants and a pistol on his waist. Diamonds and darkness…

He rushes to you in what seems like desperation. You find it oddly beautiful that he's not only relieved to see his client is still alive and well, he's also relieved to know you're still there. That his princess has waited for him.

He falls on his knees and prevents you from rising. You're quickly wrapped in his arms, feeling so happy and safe that you don't even bother to tell him you're injured. It's just a scratch anyway. Even if your leg was blown off, you wouldn't complain about being picked up in his lap like this. 

"Shh. I got you. I got you."

He's cradling you like a child while tears stream down your face, but there's no audible sounds of crying. You weep a whole river of tears and your nose is clogged, forcing you to breathe through your mouth, but there's no wailing, no screaming, no bawling. The first words that roll off your tongue are a child's moody complaint.

"You left me," you mope as he caresses your head.

"Only for a little while."

"You came back."

"I said I would."

More tears flow, and this time you sniffle and sob. He rocks you gently back and forth as you cry in his embrace. Simon would make a good father.

"Is he…?" You whisper, then look up at him. He just nods and gives you a quick scan, drawing a sharp breath when he notices the wound on your arm. 

You're placed back on the ground as he inspects your shoulder and tells you the bullet managed to scrape some skin but has mostly just ruined your jacket. You're almost sorry that the wound is not as severe as it feels. You thought the burning sensation meant shattered bones and scarred flesh, but the scratch is no deeper than if you had accidentally cut yourself with a kitchen knife.

"No, I don't want… No hospital," you beg as he offers to take you to ER. You're not spending the rest of the day in a frigid treatment room where tired medical personnel only clean the wound and put a big plaster on it. 

"Just take me home," you plead like you're his daughter who doesn't want to go to school today. "Please?"

"Sure. Whatever ya want."

He makes a few phone calls, arranges things with the local police or something. You don't want to know anything about it. You don't want to know who got shot in that building and how.

It's not a taxi that drives you back this time. You don't know where he got a car and a driver, but the vehicle is big and black, and your head is in Simon's lap when you lie in the backseat. There's a panel between the driver's seat and the rear, so you don't even know who's driving, but you're only grateful for the privacy after the crazy morning followed by a murder attempt. You look up at Simon, who looks back at you for the first time while you're in a car together.

"Why did you become a soldier?" You ask, not knowing why you're whispering. He's holding your hand – a simple, wholesome thing to do, but his grip on you is solid and warm and feels equally as intimate as the times this man has been inside you. 

"I wanted to help people." 

"By killing them?"

"By saving those I can."

He keeps a hand on your cheek too. Simon has spoken softly ever since you were fired at, has been humane and caring and tender, and you realize… This man is naked before you; he's stripped bare from all pretenses. 

And he's not darkness. He's not a skeleton or a dead man or even a soldier.

He's a beacon in the night.

"You did a good job," you squeeze his hand softly.

The last glass-like veil in his eyes shatters, but far more softly than those windows shot at with a rifle.

"I live to serve, Ma'am...–Miss."

"Don’t… Simon, please don’t call me a–"

He descends. He doesn't need that hand to lift your chin up to meet him in a kiss. It's not a hungry devouring this time, but a soft promise, a lover's seal. You feel the rest of the shock leave your body in his embrace. There's no more coldness, only a fragile burning.

"You never look me in the eyes," you whisper as a tear escapes from the corner of your eye. It's a silly thing to say when he looks at you with all the love in the world.

"Yes I do," he gives you a soft brush of a thumb across your cheek. His lips are right there, an inch away from yours. "How could you have missed that?"

He's right, as always. The dark love almost swallows the brown of his eyes as he looks at you, shining light on you as he has shined for days, for weeks now. How could you have missed that, indeed? You raise a hand to cup his cheek, not caring about the pain, not even mourning that your blood stains his chin. He doesn't seem to mind at all, so why would you?

When you arrive at your house, he drives away the loneliness, sorrow, everything a rich girl can fear by carrying you in his arms, stepping over the threshold with you like you two are married now.

He peels your jacket off with affection and tenderness, tends to your wound and wipes away the blood that has caked dry all over your arm. The gash has bled a lot for such a small wound, and you purse your lips from how accurately it reflects your feelings for him.

He ties the wound, checks at least two times he's not tying it too tight. His care breaks your heart, because you don't know whether he will leave you after this. There's nothing that keeps him here anymore – there's no way you can keep Simon Riley to yourself. So you abandon him first for the second time, ascend the stairs to your lonely domain while he cleans up the small mess in the bathroom.

It's a small miracle that he follows you. He opens the door to your room without knocking – not because he's entitled to your privacy, but because there are no more barriers between you two. You're gathered in a stout embrace for the second time this afternoon, and you wrap your arms around him to hold him closer.

"You'll leave me soon," you speak to the wall before you, to the man behind you, holding you so gently against his chest. "I'll miss you."

"Love," he murmurs behind you, you feel the words against your back as a warm rumble. "I'll come back. If you want me, I'll come back to you."

"You will…?"

"I promise."

You have no more tears to cry, so you settle for examining the stab inside your heart, the wound that will bleed you dry if no one ties it tightly enough. 

"I don't believe you."

"It's not a matter of whether you believe me."

He turns you around and lets you bathe in his warmth again, the same golden light that came through the window when he placed his mouth on you in the kitchen. It's almost frightening to know that there's nothing that can keep him from you. Nothing, except you. The only thing that has stood between you was only and ever pride.

"Simon," you breathe, a soft attempt to introduce him to mercy. "It's not a matter of what we deserve."

He blinks a few times, the chest against your side collapses a little. It's a hard reset. The corner of his mouth tugs, a beautiful betrayal of his surrender, a sign of being hit by a boulder – your boulder, finally bringing the rest of those walls down.

"You think so...?"

"Yes. I think so."

He brushes his knuckles across your sternum – a familiar motion that always manages to lift your heart. You used to think it was foreplay when it was in truth, an attempt to touch the organ said to be the house of love.

You think about the times his harsh breaths have hit you just before he cums, the urgent praise he's peppered you with merely seconds before you've cried from pleasure. Can't get enough of you pet, you’re fucking perfect, 'm gonna make you cum, sing for me, just like that... 

You always thought it was a catalogue of shallow lust when it was an offering of naked devotion. 

He was as vulnerable as you when you drifted through space together, when you drowned in his stunning midnight sea. He was catching fire and burning too, again and again until you were both satisfied and sweaty. He always held you close after, panted desperate love on your skin, planted kisses on your collarbones and neck before resting his head on your heart. Settling there, over your pulse, like he had finally found his way home…

The hand glides between your breasts and molds itself over your waist. It fits there like a second skin. You're relatively sure his hands were made for holding you. 

"You asked what makes me happy," he says, completely naked and bare. The heavy love surrounds you with warm safety; your breath flows freely as you await his confession, the last secret revealed. "I think you know, love."

You know. It has finally dawned on you. What you didn't know was that tears of hope could feel like fire too. You've never been more eager to burn.

"Now keep those pretty eyes on me."

[electronickingdomfox]

The Kobayashi Alternative (or the 1000 deaths of James T. Kirk)

Finished this game (a text adventure) recently, and oh God, what a glorious mess it was!

The frame story (which only appears in the manual, by the way) places you as a Starfleet Academy cadet, playing a simulation of one of Kirk's famous missions, as a sort of alternative to the infamous Kobayashi Maru test (hence the title). But the actual game revolves around Kirk's mission, trying to find Sulu, who has disappeared in the Trianguli sector. And you're given complete freedom to explore the area and planets in whatever order you choose, and to mess the game in whatever way you want.

And that's my main point of interest here. I've witnessed so, SO many deaths for poor Kirk, because of my ill-advised decisions... Falling into craters, being run over by lava from a (not-so-extinct) volcano, sinking in quicksand, being eaten by a dragon, falling into a moat (and then being eaten), beaming down to a planet with a temperature of -250° in just my uniform (because why not?), or the more gruesome version of beaming down to a no-atmosphere planet without a spacesuit. It's also possible to return to Earth without finishing the mission, just like that, which gets you court-martialed. Or beam down some unsuspecting redshirt to a dangerous area, and to his unavoidable death (which here causes a Game-Over, very much unlike the series). Want to swear at someone until the crew arrests you for bad conduct? Check. *For the record, these are the swear words I found to work: bitch, bastard, suck, c*ck, f*ck, ass (use them in any combination you see fit). There's also many crazy things to do, which don't necessarily lead to a game over. Leave poor Scotty stranded on a planet and depart without him (good luck when you need something from Engineering). Or make Spock mindmeld with clay. Or tell McCoy to enter Spock's quarters, and just leave him there for the rest of the game. There's a planet with aliens that are offended by clothes and will put you in jail for wearing them (well, this is inaccurate, because James Tits-Out Kirk would definitely beam down naked, if it would help the mission... and make sure to video-call Spock right before doing so).

Anyway, despite being a primitive game from 1985, I'm impressed by the sheer amount of possibilities and open-ended options in this game. The graphic adventures from the 90's (25th Anniversary, and specially Judgement Rites) are much, much better games overall. But I wanted to talk a bit about these, more obscure text adventures.

If anyone's interested in playing them, I've found the best way is through this custom installer here, which includes all three adventures: https://collectionchamber.blogspot.com/p/star-trek-first-contact.html It automatically runs the games through an emulator for modern systems, and has the last version of Kobayashi Alternative (which is very important, since previous versions were buggy as hell). First Contact uses the same engine of Kobayashi, but since it's a much linear and smaller game, it's obvious a lot of options go un-used. The Promethean Prophecy is a more traditional text adventure. It has some ingenious puzzles, but I found its typical plot of "go there and collect gems" less Trek-like.

[talesfrommedinastation]

My redneck neighbor Doug watches 'The Bad Batch': The Outpost

As per many people's requests, I've collected a series of texts and Facebook messages from Doug when he watched certain episodes of everyone's favorite Copy Paste Boi show.

Some he was quite pithy on ('Ryan-from-Accounting goes fast but not fast enough to get away from the Bitch Wife Laura'), and others...well, he got excitable, to put it mildly.

Here's one of the more deranged ones, Season 2, Episode 12, 'The Outpost'. Or as Doug calls it: "The Daddy Warcrimes Christmas Special."

CW for Language like you wouldn't believe. Doug says "you'll need a permission slip from your momma to read this, I guess."

-----

Daddy Warcrimes is waiting by the Empire's equivalent of a windowless van, because comfort is just not his thing and he really wants the experience of smuggling cocaine across the border one of these days.

Some bitch who looks like she works at a bank is telling these clones that their extended warranty is up. I wanna bring her a bag of pennies and make her count it before I deposit it because I'm sick like that.

So here comes in SOME BLOND JACKASS. Mother of Hell do I hate this guy. Can I just tell you how much I hate him? I hate him like I hate the Crimson Tide, like I hate February, like I hate my mother-in-law. Hate hate hate. 

So Daddy Warcrimes, SOME BLOND JACKASS, and some homies get into Floating Probable Cause to lay waste to an unsuspecting Third World country or whatever.

Well, I was wrong! Looks like Elsa and her frozen fingers took over this dump. Disney owns both, so why not. The cold never bothered them anyway. Nope, they’re at somebody’s nasty old storage shed. Why does this remind me of visiting my sister in Wyoming?

Oh, who is this no-frills, salt-of-the-earth, son-of-a-bitch? Is that tanned Kurt Russell? No? It’s Sassy Park Ranger! I like him already. If he was my boss I’d actually show up to work on time and sober, or late and hung over, either way, it’d be a good time with the man. He just seems cool and chill and a nice dude. I bet he’s got homemade beef jerky in his locker and his beard always smells like cigar smoke. 

OH SHUT UP STUPID BLOND JACKASS, Jesus Christ I’ve never wanted to hit someone with a folding chair so hard in my life. CALL HIM COMMANDER.

Aw, Sassy Park Ranger’s being nice to Daddy Warcrimes, maybe Daddy Warcrimes will share the Columbian nose candy in the back of the van with Sassy Park Ranger, and Sassy Park Ranger won’t ask about the sobbing family Daddy Warcrimes is probably holding for ransom in the back. It’s all about understanding each other. 

This is truly the Daddy Warcrimes Christmas special, snow and friendship and stuff. I hope this doesn’t end up with Daddy Warcrimes 86’ing Rudolph and the rest of the reindeer from the sky, that would traumatize the children. But this is the same studio that produced Bambi so who knows. Didn't he try killing a kid the first episode?

Oh man, Sassy Park Ranger’s lost a lot of his men, that’s real sad. Only two left, Jesus. SHUT UP BLOND JACKASS SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP.

(I won’t repeat it, but the amount of times that SHUT UP was texted was….something else- Dr. MM)

Sassy Park Ranger’s taking Daddy Warcrimes on a hike around the place in the middle of a blizzard, probably going to say hi to the yeti hooker they all frequent and show him how to write his name in the snow with pee. He’s such a good guy. If they go sledding I’d be so happy.

Oh, shit! Daddy Warcrimes remembers that he has a job and proceeds to cop some poor bastard in the leg so he can follow the trail of blood in the snow. What in the Fargo am I watching here, does Steve Buschemi show up at one point now. No sledding in this one, I guess.

Well there goes Sassy Park Ranger and Daddy Warcrimes on a heartwarming romp following a crippled burglar in the snow as he bleeds to death. Kevin McCallister would be so proud. Well, now, they found a dead body already. You know, at this point, if Daddy Warcrimes capped Santa in the head this show wouldn’t be less wholesome. 

Aw shit Daddy Warcrimes stepped on a landmine, but Sassy Park Ranger watched his training videos that HR made them sit through and disarms it. They’re having a nice convo, I really, really like Sassy Park Ranger. If he dies I’ll be so freaking mad. 

(I said nothing, FYI - Dr. MM)

Aw shit, they found the bunker of crazy white people with guns in the snow. It’s confirmed: the Daddy Warcrimes Christmas Special takes place in Wyoming. Are Daddy Warcrimes and Sassy Park Ranger facing off my brother-in-law and his branch of the VFW near Laramie? Those guys need hobbies besides doomsday prepping and getting drunk in the snow. It ain’t right. 

“After all we sacrificed”…man. I feel right here. Is this the child friendly version of Enemy at the Gate? Shit. Please these two bastards need to survive. I need a beer and I wanna hug my wife.  

Dr. Meat Muffin, please don't tell me you're letting your babies watch this show. They need that dog from Australia who has fun with her daddy, not this.

Oh shit, avalanche! 

Oh no, Sassy Park Ranger. Oh no, oh no. Oh, Daddy Warcrimes.

Thank Christ they made it! They’re gonna save him! They’re gonna save him.

Wait. What. 

WHAT THE FUCK, BLOND ASSHOLE. 

I HATE THIS JACKASS SO GODDAMNED MUCH, SOLDIER OF THE EMPIRE, I WANNER SHOVE MY SOLDIER UP YOUR EMPIRE YOU STUPID DICK. 

FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU

Yay! Daddy Warcrimes finally took out his gun and 86’d that FUCK. CHRISTMAS CAME EARLY!! YAAAAAAY!!!!!

Man...I hope this ends okay for Daddy Warcrimes. I hope his brothers aren't just dicking around somewhere warm while he and the other bros are out dying.

Guess that'll be next episode?"

....Doug snapped SO HARD watching 'Pabu'. Brace yourselves.

[barleyo]

Birthday Bitch.

Recombinant Miles Quaritch X Fem! Reader (smut)

A/N: Hello, lovelies! My birthday is tomorrow, the 15th, so I wrote this little self-indulgent piece to celebrate. Hope you enjoy, thanks for reading! Wordcount: 2K

Tags: birthday sex, p in v, alcohol mention, drinking, fingering, oral (f receiving), sex in nature, semi-public sex (?)

The base’s mess hall was mostly empty in the later hours of the night, as people either had work to continue or dorms to go to. Very few stragglers could be found out there at those times. 

(Y/N) was one of them, slowly sipping away at a bottle of alcohol, not bothering to pour it out into a separate cup, instead lifting the entire bottle straight to her red-stained, smudged lips, the last of her makeup fading away. She had taken a seat in the corner of the hall, sitting alone in a booth until a familiar, large body sat down next to her out of nowhere. 

“Booze from Earth, huh, science puke? Must be a special occasion.”

“Ah, Colonel Quaritch? Oh, uh, yeah, a couple of friends wrangled some up,” (Y/N) said, looking up at the blue man.

She didn’t know him extremely well, interactions limited to tagging along on certain trips with the Recombinant team to enhance her studies of Pandora’s fauna and flora. However, it was not lost on her the slight favoritism he had shown her off the bat: holding the team up to wait for her while she collected samples, insisting on standing behind her to keep her safe as they explored the forests, hand falling to her shoulder to keep her steady when she tripped over her feet. 

“Pretty rare on this planet, hard to ration out,” Miles grabbed the bottle, looking at the label. “The good stuff too, yeah? What’re you celebrating, girl?”

She sighed. “Just a birthday.”

“Looks like you’re here by yourself. Some party, (Y/N),” he teased.

“Yeah, don’t remind me.” she grabbed the bottle back from his grip and grimaced. She had enough for one night, her head was already aching, a sign of her hangover to come the following morning. “Y’want some?”

“Hm, sure.” Miles nodded and took it and finished what little was left in the bottle, tilting his carbon mask back up afterwards to take a small sip of air before removing it again. Sliding the empty bottle to the end of the table once he was done, he held his hand out to (Y/N). 

“What?”

“C’mon, let’s get out of here. This ain’t no way to celebrate a birthday. Shit’s depressin’ me already.” 

He pulled her up, grabbing her own oxygen mask and putting it on her. She stumbled a bit as she was pulled through the base behind him, unable to keep up with his longer legs and faster pace. 

She felt a shiver go down her spine when the air outside hit her exposed arms and legs. Miles finally let go of her hand once they reached the outskirts of the base, surrounded by layers of trees and bushes. 

“Quaritch, what are we even doing out here? It’s cold as hell,” (Y/N) said, watching him as he walked over to a tree. 

“Toughen up, you big baby,” he said, waving her over to stand by him at the tree. “Y’like being out here, you always look so damn happy when you come with us on missions.” He took a small carving knife from the pocket of his cargos, flicking the blade out and etching at the tree’s bark.

“Uh, you really shouldn’t carve into the trees, you know,” she huffed lightheartedly, fogging up the front of her mask a bit.

“I’ll do what I want.” He hummed as he pulled his knife away from the tree, revealing what he carved. 

“My initials?” She peered at the scraggly carving, making out two pale letters contrasting against the tree’s bark.

“Yeah, got your own tree now.” He put the blade back into his pocket, smirking at her reaction. “Bet your lil weirdo friends back in the lab’ll be jealous. Only girl on base with her own Pandoran tree.”

“Huh.” She traced her fingers over the markings, feeling the divots in the wood. “That’s actually pretty cool,” she turned around and flashed him a toothy smile, teeth glinting in the moon’s light. “Thanks, Colonel.”

“Miles. Name’s Miles. When we’re alone, at least. ” he held his finger up, tutting at her. 

“Thanks, Miles.”

“Yeah, well, it’s nothin’, really.” He pulled off his dog tags and clipped them around her neck, adjusting the silver necklace for her. “Wanted to give you these too.”

(Y/N)’s hand cupped the cold tag, moving it between her fingers before she looked up at him.

“Hey, Miles?”

“Hm?”

“Why’re you bein’ so nice to me? I mean, not that I don’t appreciate it, but–”

“You’re the birthday girl,” he bent down to her height, hand on her shoulder. “Gotta be nice to a girl on her special day, don’t I?” His grin showed his sharp teeth. 

“Guess so, but—”

“Hush up,” he gently pushed her down onto the forest floor, sitting down beside her soon after. “Always complainin’ about somethin’, you whiny little thing.” 

She mumbled something incoherent in response and leaned onto his shoulder. 

“Why were you sittin’ by yourself earlier?”

“Everybody was kinda busy, so I just thought I’d be fine on my own. Well, then you came along, and you weren’t busy.”

“I’m never too busy for you, birthday girl,” he mused, chuckling to himself. “We should head back inside, you ready to get goin’ now?”

She shook her head. “Can we stay a bit longer? Please?”

“Fine by me, it’s your day, ain’t it?”

“It is my day.” She laughed. “Thank you, handsome.”

Quaritch looked at her, smirk plastering his face. “Handsome, huh?”

“Got a problem with that? Can I not call you handsome?” She turned to face him too.

“Ah, ‘course not. You can call me whatever you want, darlin’.” 

He pushed her down quickly, crawling on top of her. His arm rested by her head while his face hovered over hers. “Or should I say ‘gorgeous?’”

She opened her mouth to speak before Quaritch pulled her mask up and pushed his lips onto hers. She kissed back, wrapping her hands around his neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss. He bit her bottom lip and pushed into her mouth with his tongue, snatching the air from her lungs until the burn was unbearable. 

(Y/N) pulled her oxygen mask back down and took quick, greedy puffs of air. Her chest heaved up and down while she caught her breath. She knitted her eyebrows together, hearing Quaritch snicker up at her, now positioned between her legs.

“Miles, ‘s not funny,” she said, still huffing. 

“Oh, it’s not? Consider this my apology then.” 

Flipping her dress up to her stomach, Quaritch palmed her clothed mound, slowly working one hand over the fat of her thigh and one on the wet patch on her panties. He held eye contact with her the whole time. 

His teeth met the band of her panties, gripping it and pulling them down. He pulled the panties down to her ankles with his mouth. After letting go of them, he licked his way up her leg. Starting at her calf, he let his textured, cat-like tongue catch on the skin of her inner-leg until he reached her thigh. 

“Don’t tease me, please,” (Y/N) begged, running her hands through his hair then holding onto the back of his head.

“Be patient n’ give me time to show you how good I can make you feel.” His teeth grazed her inner-thigh, sinking into the flesh, leaving wet, splotchy, purple marks over the skin. 

(Y/N)’s thighs slowly started to close, trying to move her body away from the stimulation; it had just started and it was already too much for her, but Miles’ strong hands spread her legs back open and held her still.

With her legs wide open, he pushed his head fully between them. His wide, flat nose bumped into her clit while his tongue made work of gliding over and into her slit. He soon moved away from her entrance and turned his focus to her clit, wrapping his lips over the bud and sucking on it, coating it with his spit and swirling it around in his mouth. 

Pushing two of his long fingers in her, he scissored them to stretch her out. 

“Ah– hurts s’bad…”

Still muffled by her cunt, Quaritch said, “I know, I know. Hold still.” He ran his tongue over her clit, swiping over the raw nub, sending (Y/N) over the edge. Her hips rose and bucked into his face, riding out her orgasm with strained moans flowing from her lips. 

“There you go, it’s okay,” Miles said, one hand resting on her stomach while the other wiped her slick from his face. “Good job, girl.”

He propped himself to his knees and unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants, and pulled his length out. 

“Here, let me make you feel good now,” (Y/N) said, reaching out to wrap her hand around it.

Miles grabbed her wrist, gently but firmly pushing it back down. 

“Can’t let you do that, baby. It’s about your pleasure tonight, you know better.” 

Flipping her body around, Quaritch forced her to her hands and knees. He came up behind her and ran his hand over the plump curve of her ass and moved his hands to her hips. He slipped his dick between her cunt’s lips, coating himself with her wetness before pushing into her.

His fingers felt amazing, but they hadn’t done much to warm her up to the intense stretch that his dick sent through her walls. She gasped and bit her lip, holding back tears that pricked at her eyes while he split her open, pushing through her tightness with gritted teeth. 

“Christ, relax, will you? Can’t hardly get up in you.”

He roughly bucked into her, fitting the majority of his length into her. Feeling himself sinking deeper into her, he leaned over her body, resting his head over her shoulder. He dug his teeth into the skin, fangs cinching into it the further he pushed into her heat. 

“Oh my God.” It came out all as one word from her mouth, shaky and gasping. Her eyes tightly closed shut as she felt his dick twitch inside of her. 

“Got me so hard it hurts n’ clenching around me like you’re tryin’ to choke my cock,” he said, grunting in approval. “Gonna loosen you up so good. Make sure you can take me next time, yeah?”

“Mhm, yes, gonna fit you so well,” (Y/N) babbled drunkenly, buzzed from alcohol and Quaritch’s body. “Just for you, Miles, ‘m all yours.”

He groaned, slowly turning his shallow thrusts into full strokes, the sound of skin slapping playing through the forest every time he pulled out and entered her. 

Milky globs of arousal formed a ring on his blue dick while he fucked into her. (Y/N)’s yelps fanned the flames of Miles’ own arousal, structured thrusts turning into sloppy, needy movements. 

Her scent paired with her wetness drove him nearly over the edge, deep growls forming in his chest, saliva pooling at his mouth.

“Look at you,” he said, wiping his mouth. “Got me drooling like a fuckin’ dog, so worked up over you, baby.”

A tightness grew in her stomach at his words, pricking at her entire body. Her fingers dug into the soft soil that she was facing, body stiffening up. 

“M-Miles–”

“Go ahead, let me have it. Cum for me.”

Her walls clamped tightly over him, sucking him in deeper than either of them had thought possible. The flutter of her cunt over his dick sent Miles into his own release. Biting back down on her shoulder, hard enough to prick blood from the soft skin, he came.

Quaritch pulled out and sat (Y/N) down, watching as his cum trickled out of her onto the grass and soil in the forest. 

“Fuck, you had me real worked up.” He pulled her pants up and pocketed (Y/N)’s panties, not caring that she saw. “Now,” he paused to bend down and take her into his arms, holding her over his shoulder, “ready to go?”

“Well, what time is it?”

He looked at the watch on his wrist. “11:11, baby. Make a wish,” he said, patting her ass teasingly. 

“A wish? Oh, uhm…”

“How about round two?”

[weeb-polls-with-pip]

Autistic Anime Girls Group 3 Match 29

SUBMISSION PROPAGANDA:

Himiko -

"She likes to drink blood (special interest) and make friends, but the two don't work out :( she is still very cool and sweet about it tho!"

Bulma -

"Has an absolute brain blast realizing this. At the start of the series, she was introduced as a rich inventor girl with no friends at school who found a magic ball and decided to build a radar for its unique energy signature and go on an adventure to collect the rest so that she could make a wish. Her original idea was to just wish for a boyfriend, but then she settled on wishing for an unlimited supply of strawberries.

Generally, Bulma does a lot of things that indicate a lessened level of empathy for others or a lack of social skills, such as enslaving Oolong with a whistle-activated diarrhea pill, or accusing Yamcha of cheating just for looking at other girls. Bulma's a bitch, and I love her for that. She might also be bipolar, but that's a separate conversation. But also, she doesn't really seem to have any friends, all of her friends and connections (like Chi-Chi, Vegeta, Android 18, Yamcha, Krillin, Piccolo) actually come from Goku's sphere of influence. She can put on a mask of professionalism when it comes to business talk, but it does seem like a mask.

She's an absolute genius, arguably the smartest character in the whole Dragon Ball franchise. Able to invent a radar for sensing magic energy, invent a shrink-watch for more convenient adventuring, learn Namekian in a month, analyze the blueprints of biomechanical cyborgs and construct a shut-down remote for them, and a future version of her even built a time machine. But all of these things take time for her to do, we see that she's able to dedicate and hyperfocus on one project for several hours at a time.

Miscellaneous thoughts that might be related: When Frieza returned to Earth, she came to the battleground just because she didn't see him on Namek. TWICE. Her best idea for keeping the Dragon Balls out of the hands of evildoers is to constantly make wishes for little cosmetic changes to her body."

[starandcloud]

MCU Loki Headcannons

Uses all pronouns

His favorite season, he likes the delicate balance of "Will I burn or will I freeze?" of Earth

He loves to read those romance books with Gods and Goddess, not cause he wants to be put into the shoes of the MC but because he enjoys pointing out things wrong with the book. Fucking nit-pick

He really likes the wooded mountain sides, it feels like home

His favorite way to waste time is by fucking with people. Whether its a huge prank or a small one, he enjoys it Chaotic lil fuck

Dark Pop, Lo-Fi, Sing-Alongs, Ballet, Country, Dubstep, Pop, Rap, Hip-Hop, Pagan Metal, Viking Metal, Folk Metal, Pop-rock, Dance pop, Pop punk. All somehow fit in his playlists

He has small scars above, and below, his lips from when the dwarves sewed his lips shut for lying to them. A few smaller scars litter his skin, playful kids and one to many tumbles earned him his fair share of scars

When Loki becomes nervous he pick at his nails and cheeks on the inside of his cheeks

I can see him having ADHD, so they have a lot of soothing techniques. Like covering a sheet of paper with her favorite words or shape. Just Loki things

When they have nightmares, they tend to just walk the nerves and stress off

He has a fair share of collectibles from his devotees. Things that don't spoil are his favorite

Loki's most prized possession is a little, wittled, wooden horse a devotee gave him

They do this thing when they have to do something special. He fiddles with a small bottle of sand (shaking it three times) and then takes a hot bath. He says it "Melts away the nerves"

Rainy days he's either out in the rain, playing in it like a child OR bundled up in blankets by the fire. No in between

MASSIVE "doodler". His doodles are more of actual art pieces and he does write poetry, but not that often. It takes more brain power

This bitch starfish sleeps. Leg over there arm over his face one leg off the bed other arm under him chaotic sleeper, you cannot share a bed with him.

Loki hugs... protectively. Like he'll have both arms around your waist holding you close OR they'll have one arm around your waist and the other crossed over your back so his hand in almost on your shoulder

He's naturally flirty with everyone, but he's more-so with someone he genuinely likes. He'll leave everyone gifts and do small things around HQ to make peoples lives easier. EX: If Natasha's favorite cup was on the highest shelf *cough* Thor *Cough cough*

Loki would be able to finish a fucking project. Whether it's a small one or a huge one, he just doesn't have the attention span and/or patience to finish a project

If he found out he only had a day left to live, he'd keep is a secret. He wouldn't tell anyone and would spend the day making other's day happier, he'd spend the day at the park or just doing little things he enjoys or things he's always wanted to do. Like pottery or painting

Their spirit animal is a black cat or a white snake

He's definitely a Slytherin with Hufflepuff traits

[marginal-notes]

You could talk about floodwater management on here instead :3

lololol but seriously, I’m constantly thinking so much about the economics and infrastructure of ATLA, especially at scale, given the existence of bending.

First off, I’m still not 100% sure what percentage of the population has bending. Personally, I think it’s a minority? Let’s say 30% max? Probably more around 10-15%, don’t ask where I’m getting this number from.

Then you gotta think about stuff like, “okay, I want to build this dam around this location along a river, and I have to do a geological survey first along with collecting whatever else elevation data we need.” So, are you planning to find a specialized earthbender? I fully embrace the idea of Toph’s sensing ability being really rare, so how much value does an earthbender bring in? And what if you’re in the Fire Nation’s territory and for various reasons you don’t want to use an earthbender, so you need to develop nonbender methods anyway.

When do things reach sufficient scale that using tools and technology override the need for individual human labor?

“What does this have to do with floodwater management?” Yeah, whatever, this is just some of the usual bean counter ramblings, let’s also talk about security.

In the show, Jet already proves the knowledge that infrastructure’s destruction can be a weapon. He needed blasting jelly to destroy that dam, but what if you had an earthbender. The thing with dams is that you just need to punch one hole through the wall, and the weight of the water and physics will do all the rest for you. Bitch slapping a meter cube of material out of a dam is way too easy for an earthbender.

Like, bro, what the fuck. Why are you forcing me to pay so much money on effective security to keep you maniacs out.

Real talk, would you really want to have a lot of dams in the world of ATLA when you have to live with the constant threat of some drunk idiot stumbling along and fucking up the earth around your giant water infrastructure and immediately threatening the lives of thousands downstream.

Good grief.

Now also take that constant aggravation and apply it to rivers. Rivers already don’t want to stay along the same course. Those things famously shift around constantly to find the path of least resistance. How easy would it be for someone to weaken and manipulate the ground along a riverbank to lay a strategic time bomb waiting for the next heavy rain to hit.

Oh, what’s that Mr. Fire Army General sir, you planned your supply routes along this path near the vicinity of this river? If I have a sneaky enough crew of earthbender willing to be relentless mole people for a couple of weeks, I can utterly ruin your day and career.

Man, imagine if the Fire Nation already had an interest in instruments that can measure seismic activity because these people are crazy enough to put their SEAT OF POLITICAL POWER inside the caldera of an ACTIVE VOLCANO, WHY. But the real reason why the Fire Nation has such good instruments is because of the military trying to fend off renegade bands of mole people laying mines under their camps.

I mean, that’s how a lot of tech development tends to go anyway irl.

[lonesomepine]

girl i have written essays in your dms about using kink terminology to define experiences of werewolves give us the damn alien lore

OKAYYYYY! This is gonna super long, sorry!!

Splitting this into sections: basic stuff, then one for aliens and one for bitches who found out about people with abilities/return of extinct animals/weird new weather things and are Funky About It.

First, basic lore:

The aliens’ experiments aren’t detectable to humans on any level other than what they can see at first. Not everyone is altered by their devices, and those who are don’t find out until either a stressful situation bringing out their power, or when they get to be around 14 or 15 years old. Abilities are varied, but can fit into a few overall categories; elemental, psychic, amplifiers, healers, empaths, shapeshifters, and better physical ability (strength, speed, stamina, etc). Most abilities come with side effects for the person affected, because humans aren’t meant to Be Like That.

the humans:

In one county, there are separately two different boarding schools nestled into the mountains. Around their bases, there are a bunch of small towns. One school is normal. It’s very slay. Some rich dude who founded it basically made it fully free for anyone in the county to attend, including housing. They have an unofficial club for people who got abilities from the aliens.

The other school is. Not as fun. Publicly, it’s a high school for teenagers who excel at science, where they get opportunities to get field experience in a study of their choice. Some of this is true. However. The head of the institute caught wind of the newly returned extinct species, and also that a percent of the population had gained powers. And he decided to study them. Without their knowledge. It’s real fucked up. Essentially, since finding all this out, every single student admitted to the school has been altered by the alien devices-whether they know it or not. Students then get put into research teams of eight; seven who are aware of their abilities, and one who isn’t. Each team is told that they’re the only ones with these powers. Their missions almost always involve the other changes to the planet, and the data they collect goes straight to the head of the school.

The two schools never interact, but the students have a mutual dislike of each other.

Finally, there are some towns that have formed of solely humans with abilities.

the aliens:

After exploring the galaxies extensively for an environment suitable for their experiments, they’ve found Earth. They’ve been here for several decades already. Their overall goal is to ‘improve’ life on the planet, but they don’t really care about the wellbeing of the people and animals who live there. They plan to take the information they gather from their research back to their home planet and implement it there. Physically, they have a variety of appearances, but are all blue and gold in color. They communicate through music and humming, but can translate it into spoken words for humans. To human ears, their voices are musical, and incredibly loud. Researchers on the surface are on strict orders to keep their work hidden from humans. Others, orbiting the planet, use cloaking devices to hide their craft from satellites.

So far, they’ve successfully brought back several extinct animals, created artificial weather, and caused existing thunderstorms to become toxic to human life. This is the only thing that has been universally discovered by humans, who have invented special rain shields to protect against the rain.

Okay wooo that was a lot!!

[vixlenxe]

Me putting down Planet ideas here, because I need to put them down somewhere to oringize my thoughts

Mercury

Smol boi, only 5'5

Fastest mf in the west, just really speedy

Did all sorts of high school & collage athletes like track, baseball & soccer

Does professional baseball for a living

When baseball season isn't in play, he does have a part-time job of being a trainer at a gym

Sports sports sports sports-

Smells a lot because he's running around in the dirt most of the time

An actual sweetheart, like jump in front of a bus to save a random stranger levels of sweet

Indulges in a little bit of B&E, as he likes to crash at one of his sister's penthouses that happens to be in the same town

Venus

Mercury's sister. They won't tell you which one is older, because they enjoy driving people insane with it.

Yes, she's taller then her brother

The most fashionable bitch you will ever met

Also the baddest bitch you will ever met

In general she is a bitch, but a loving bitch once you are in her circle of friends

Sleeps around a bit

Has a job as a runway model

As a result of her job, she moves around a lot, but has multiple homes of varying kinds all over the world

"Don't you know my ass is famous?"

Earth(Gaia)

Collage student being forced to get a degree in business by her father

She really wants to get an art degree instead, but is agreeing to do business because she feels she owes her dad

Is constantly getting sick

Her medical bills would have run a normal family bankrupt, the only reason her family isn't is because her father is a successful local business man

Very interested in gardening, but her worrywort of a mother doesn't let her near plants thinking they will effect her daughter's health. Went as far as to remove all plants from her family home, save for the grass on the ground outside

Recycles!

Is vegan

Bean bags bean bags bean bags

Has a pet goldfish named Goldeen. Yes, like the pokemon, shut up it's her favorite OG water type

Moon(Luna)

Older Half-sister to Gaia, same mother, different fathers.

When her father & mother divorced, long before Gaia was born, custody of Luna went to her father. They quickly went no contact afterwards, so Luna is mostly unaware of her half-sister's existence

She likes expensive clothes, but doesn't have the money to buy them most of the time

Astrology Nerd

Night Owl life

Works the night shift as a waitress at a 24 restaurant, claims it's nothing special, but then will say their burgers are to die for in the same breath

Don't give her choices, she's really bad at making choices

Mars

Anger Issues R U

Flamin' red head

Tattoos on tattoos

"What do you mean I can't solve all my problems by punching it or throwing shit at it?"

Likes hiking

If a bear happened upon him in the woods while hiking, they would try to fight it

Most likely to owe more then one motorbike

Probably in a biker gang? Probably in a biker gang-

'Mars' is just their gang name, no one knows their actual name

Has done more illegal shit then they have fingers & toes, just hasn't gotten caught yeah/doesn't know it is illegal

If you want to calm this crazy MF down, give food, food is the best distraction

Jupiter(Jun)

CEO of some business tycoon probably

The tallest MF on this list easily

Weird birthmark on their shoulder, they're proud of it too

Asshole

Asshole, but he throws money at things a lot, including people, so it's fine I guess?

Asshole, but he's an asshole to everyone else but 'the one' so it's fine-

Probably smokes & also probably has a car collection

Saturn

The second tallest MF on this list

Blonde hair that is very long

Legs for daaaaaays

Does Ballet & other performative arts

'Saturn' is only her stage name, all ballerinas in her group use stage names to protect their real identities, but she will also use it in public sometimes out of habit

Likes to wear gold, particularly obsessed with gold rings

Screeches like a damn banshee

Because of her already huge height, as well as her job as a ballerina, she's also really self conscious about her weight & her appearance

Uranus(Ure)

Dyes their hair blue because it's their favorite color

Introvert

Very shy in public & with new people, absolutely apeshit with their friends in private

Secret conspiracy theorist

Proud video game addict

Was that weird quiet kid at school that listened to music in the corner of the classroom, has now evolved to making playlists & sending them to their few friends

Also weirdly obsessed with rings

Does after-hours solo cleaning at a few different locations, because they don't want to have to deal with people

Neptune

Dyes his hair a dark blue because he want it to match his eyes

His eyes are fucking beautiful though, I can see why he wants his hair to match

Mysterious aura

Runs a few black market chains

Always late to any meeting or gathering

It's 100% on propose

'Service with a smile' if given a human form

He's actually very nice & sweet, with a touch of lazy, until you mess with his money

BITCH BETTER HAVE MY MONEY

Pluto

The smallest on this list easily

Androgynous

Incredibly lazy

Favorite past time is napping

Might suffer from narcolepsy, insists they just sleep when they feel stressed to ease it

Hates not being taken seriously

"Am I a joke to you?" -> Will get pissed if you ignore them or answer yes to this

Easily gets attached to others & easily flustered

"NOTICE ME SENPAI!!!"

[witchyy-kittyy]

Yapping about my OC’s Relic and Kinu and their lore :D

Tw// the holocaust, nazis, abuse, hanging/execution, war, this entire thing is about the afterlife

Also I almost definitely fucked up Christianity and like the stories and stuff and I’m sorry about that ):

Kinu (left), Relic (right)

So the story begins in World War 2. Because I said so. Relic is collecting souls of the dammed, mainly Nazi officers, to take them to a very special spot in hell. Now this one guy died, his name is Jacob, he was a Nazi, and Relic was like ‘time to take your soul my guy’. However Kinu comes in and is like ‘sorry haha can’t let you do that I claimed this guy (((: so ((((: you’re out of luck ((((:’

Then Relic is like ‘this guy is a Nazi’

And Kinu is like ‘I mean yea but he’s been sabotaging these bitches and helping the British so like he’s coming with me, peace out!’, grabs Jacob’s soul, and scurries off to Heaven

So then Relic is like ‘Nuh uh not gonna happen’ and goes to the equivalent of a lawyer’s office and is like ‘This bitch took a soul I was collecting’ and showed Kinu’s photo

Then the secretary is like ‘oh yea he does that lmao we can’t do anything about it sorry’

So Relic is like ‘fine I’ll do it myself’ and sneaks into Heaven to get to Kinu and yell at him. Kinda gay if you ask me but yea.

So Relic finds Kinu, and Kinu is like fucking chugging a bottle of vodka, so Relic is like ‘uhhhh don’t Angels like not drink or sum’ and Kinu is like ‘technically yes :3’

So Relic is now utterly confused and Kinu is like ‘sorry my guy I don’t wanna fuck you’ and shuts the door in Relic’s face

Now Relic is like WTF is going on, but he just goes back to his job of collecting bad souls. One day he’s like filling out paperwork n stuff cause that exists in Hell, because it’s Hell, and Kinu drops by

Kinu’s like ‘hey so you’re like a super scary demon right’ and Relic is like ‘yea i guess’ and Kinu then says ‘aight I need your help this like superrrr religious dude is beating his wife and I’ve already tried putting him on a better path and pretending to be God but he won’t listen to me so like can you go in your demon thing and tell him he’s going to Hell if he doesn’t stop beating his wife’

Relic’s then like ‘y’know he’ll go to Hell anyway right’ and Kinu’s like ‘yea so are you gonna help or not’

So then Relic is like ‘that’s a lot of paperwork’ and Kinu’s like ‘that wasn’t a no!’ and grabs his hand and teleports them to Earth

Relic’s like ‘dude no’ and Kinu is like ‘uh huh sure that’s the guy’

So Relic reluctantly deals with the guy and Kinu’s like ‘hey it worked!’

Relic’s is still upset about the paperwork though

Relic: do you have any sense of professionalism

Kinu: I didn’t know that was a word

So Kinu and Relic head back to their respective places but Kinu broke the law going to see Relic without permission

Then Relic is like ‘oh fuck am I gay’ while Kinu is literally getting his ass kicked

Then Relic hears that Kinu is getting ✨executed✨ and is like ‘wait no that’s the guy I wanna date’ so he goes to try and save Kinu

But Relic forgot that demons in heaven is a no no and he got caught ))):

Then they’re both about to be executed and Relic looks over at Kinu

Relic: I think I like you

Kinu: Dude I’m so drunk right now

So they are hanged but nothing happens because this was the first hanging they had ever done for rules being broken and they forgot Demons and Angels had wings

So Kinu and Relic are like ‘really my guys’ and escape cause wings and super smart things

Then Kinu goes up to Jesus and is like ‘bro talk to your dad’ and explained the situation and Relic is standing there like ‘dude that’s Jesus wtf’

So Jesus is not having the bullshit and goes and yells at his dad (God), and Mary forces God to change the rules because mother power and shit or something I don’t know the Bible

So the law is changed Kinu and Relic are happy and all is well

But the demons don’t like the law so they go and start a war on angels

Because

Uh

✨stigma✨

Or something

So people are dying because you can die in Heaven and Hell you just go into the void and Kinu’s fighting and Relic’s like ‘gotta keep my bitch ass boyfriend who’s not my boyfriend from dying’ and goes to protect Kinu

Then he dies protecting Kinu from a spear even though Kinu was literally wearing essentially a stab proof vest cause he’s smart

And Kinu is like ‘wait no I liked him’ and uses up his Angel powers to heal Relic and bring him back to life

Then he dies cause he overused his power and Relic is crying cause his boyfriend who’s not his boyfriend just died

Then Relic gets stabbed again

So they both die

For anyone wondering how the war ended, it’s still going and that’s why there’s so much bad cause the angel’s can’t step away and be like ‘that’s a bad ide

[checkoutmybookshelf]

Confidence is Oft Hard-Won...Especially with Magic

Ok, so when I did my first read of the Walker Papers books, this novella was part of a short story anthology that I did not have the time or energy to track down. Which means that on this series reread, this is actually a FIRST read for me. College me was doing her best, so I'm not judging her for not doing more to hunt the short story collection down. That said, I WISH I had read this sooner, because this is very much the bridge between Urban Shaman and Thunderbird Falls that I wanted. Let's talk Banshee Cries.

SPOILERS AHEAD! Be warned.

We start with Joanne about three months after the end of Urban Shaman, and Captain Morrison is significantly damaging her ability to be in denial about her powers. The thing about Morrison is that this man is extremely results-oriented as a police captain. If one of his people has a skill set that can effectively stop people from committing murder and solve murder cases, then by God he is going to ensure that that skill set is used for those purposes. Even if it makes him DEEPLY uncomfortable in the process.

Which...magic does. It just straight up makes him uncomfortable at this point in the series. But he is so committed to his career, which he equates with a calling, that he is over here able and willing to support his people through pretty much anything. And the WILD thing to me that really struck in this book? Morrison and Joanne are going through a very similar journey in terms of accepting that there are more thing in heaven and earth, Horatio. The difference is that Morrison has a clear goal--being the best possible police officer he can be and leading his people to that same goal--he doesn't have the unresolved trauma Joanne does, and he is a bit older, which gives him more life experience to manage the upheaval. This man's entire worldview and preconceptions are changing just like Joanne's, but he has the maturity and direction to marshal the change and use it.

Joanne on the other hand is FLOUNDERING because she's also dealing with trauma, doesn't have the clear purpose to marshal her power behind, and is also 26, and having been a 26-year-old, lots of us are still just realizing that we need to shift into adultier adult and are figuring out that process. So I kind of love that although Joanne is our protagonist, we get a mirror of her journey in Morrison.

Now that said...I kind of don't love that this means Joanne gets pulled immediately into homicides. Girl was a MECHANIC. She didn't want to investigate murders, she's objectively not emotionally or professionally prepared to investigate murders, and AS BILLY POINTS OUT, she has a soft heart. Homicide is hard, and it takes an emotional toll. It's a LOT to put on Joanne. I literally cannot blame her for wanting the comfort of denial. That said...Gary also wasn't out of line when he said this:

"You got something special, kid. You're gonna have to learn to suck it up and live with it, or walk away. Right now there's some dead ladies out there that maybe you can help, if you stop bitching and get on with it. Are you gonna do that, or what?"

Hard changes happen. Denial happens. But Gary understands that even if Joanne is struggling, our girl's feet are nailed to the floor. She's practical. She can DO something if she chooses to be an adult. And having been on the receiving end of this lecture a few times in my life... Sometimes you need someone to tell you to quit your bitching and get it done. And sometimes you need someone who is going to give you a hug and help once you DO stop bitching to tell you that. We love Gary in this house.

We also love Billy, because once Joanne does stop digging her heels in and takes the step into using her powers, Billy is very much there to support her too. Because Billy and Joanne both understand that Joanne is a BABY shaman. She doesn't have the education or experience to really know what she's doing, and that's not a judgment, it's just a fact. Billy has more experience, and he can lend a helping hand--which he does. Billy comes in clutch and offers Joanne energy to fight Blade and get herself out of a trap.

Another really lovely thing we get from this novella is an expansion of Joanne's relationship with her mother, Sheila MacNamarra. Most of what we get from this relationship in Urban Shaman is that it's empty, there's a metric ton of abandonment and resentment on Joanne's part, and Sheila liked Altoids. What we get in this novella is a deepening of the relationship, and a look at Sheila's side of the story of why she handed a three-month-old Joanne off to her biological father in the US and disappeared back to Ireland.

Sheila had extraordinarily valid reasons to not be a part of her daughter's life. She was a mother trying to do her best for her daughter. And that's validated and understood by the story. What is ALSO validated and understood is that Joanne's feelings were also valid. And she had to grow and increase her understanding. Two things were very true at the same time. And even though understanding doesn't fix the hurt and the resentment, it does allow Joanne to understand messiness and nuance and live with conflicting things in some measure of peace. Which is a really lovely little parallel with Joanne's journey to understand and accept her personality and her powers.

Overall, this novella was a lovely little piece of character work that expands on what we've been given and introduces some elements of lore and worldbuilding that will resonate throughout the rest of the series. Banshees will not stop being important, Joanne's ability to see/feel and manipulate energy will only grow, and this point of growing past denial is so important for Joanne's ongoing journey.

[uchiha-slut-fiction]

Jiraiya SFW and NSFW Headcanons (because I want to write it)

SFW

Gives the most immaculate cuddles. You looking to get head pats and back scratches? ☺️Jiraiya is your man.

He will spend some days reading you poetry that makes him think of you. Really mushy stuff guys.

You’re the inspiration for his literature. He finds you absolutely fascinating.

Super duper protective. Typically isn’t a psycho about it but he very much can in the right circumstances. 💢Nobody is gonna touch his baby. 💢

Definitely not the jealous type. He knows he has you wrapped around his finger. But more than that, he’s wrapped around yours. He trusts tf out of you and that’s not wavering.

Loves the cute dates and quality time together.💗 He loves to take you out and show you off. He loves knowing others want you but you’re his. It makes him feel rather special.

He also loves to spoil you with material items. He picks out the most beautiful jewelry and clothes for you. Money is no object when it comes to you. You deserve everything you’ve ever wanted.

He secretly wants to write an entire novel about your relationship with him. Of course will use characters instead of you and him. Or maybe not.😏 But to him, your relationship is the greatest love story that has yet to be told. 🥹❤️

He wants paintings and portraits of you around his house. He needs his muse in all rooms. You’re his inspiration and motivation.

Other women don’t exist in his line of sight anymore. It’s just you. Always.

Will smoke with you without question. He’s a seasoned smoker and finds it impressive when you can keep up with him. Oh baby if you like the product just wait until you see his plants! 😶‍🌫️😮‍💨

NSFW

Man has a LOT OF KINKS. We all knew this though.🤤

Also very big. Not just his stature, ya know what I mean? You’re gonna need to sit on frozen bags of peas from your freezer for the day afterward. Totally worth it.

Aftercare god. Will make you snacks and run you a warm bath afterward. He’ll also carry you around everywhere. I mean, you can’t walk bitch.

Big into Kama Sutra. Especially with his S/O. It’s intimate and makes him feel all the more close to you. Like your souls are one in that moment. He lives for that shit. 10/10.❤️‍🔥

Big into worshiping you. As far as he is concerned, your the most perfect angel to grace this earth. So he’s going to make sure you know it too. You’re his motivation after all.

Secretly has a smut stash he’s written about you. I mean notebooks upon notebooks. One day he might share them with you.

He also has a secret collection of candid photos of you(yes some are noods.🥵) You have no idea. He keeps them for when he’s away from the village.

Is a soft daddy dom. You’re his only weakness at this point. He can’t be too mean when it comes to you. A little teasing maybe but he can’t be actually mean.😈

He absolutely loses it when you put on your cute little pouty face and call for daddy. It makes him want to wreck the lipstick you worked so diligently on. I mean, what else did he buy it for?😏

Mirror sex. MirROR SEX. MIRROR SEX. You’re gonna take a good look at yourself while he fucks you stupid. If you don’t tell him what a pretty girl you are while he fucks you in the mirror you’re in for a loooooong night.

He LOVES making you flustered in public. Whispering sweet nothings and making promises to make you cum until you cry is more than enough to get you going and he knows it.🫠 Even a brush of his fingertips on your thigh is enough to cloud your thoughts. So he takes every opportunity to do just that.

Y’all walk around naked in the house when you’re together. I mean, is there really a need for them? He can’t think of any.

Has a size kink. Being that he’s so big, He loves how small you feel in his hands. The fact that you like being thrown around like a rag doll is a plus.

Will fuck you on every surface of his house and place. And I mean every surface and place. The garden. The kitchen. The bathroom. The front porch. The back porch. Everywhere.

If I keep going this will go on for way too long so if y’all want a part two let me know.

[insane4fandoms]

Sorry, it’s me again! But uh… headcanons? Could I see your headcanons about the Matt egos?

*plops down and leans forward like a child eagerly waiting for story time*

Gather around children, gather around. Time to tell you the list of my headcanons for these theatrical bitches

Madpat

- He’s like a dog, you scold him, he’ll look like you kicked him and will give you those 🥺 eyes. But don’t be fooled! Shield your eyes from the dangers of Madpat’s look of innocence!

- He also brings dead things to people he likes, like a cat bringing dead birds. He is proud at what he brought, and wants you to put it up like a trophy.

- He brandishes that flame throwing chainsaw like it’s his baby. Hold it in his sleep like a stuff toy.

- While he was in prison, he was going to kill everyone there, but met a special someone who loves theater as much as he does. But why the weird Jersey accent if he’s from Ohio?

- You know his teddy costume? That’s his sensory onesie, he likes the way it feels and feels happy when he wears it.

- After the fire, he got burn marks all over his body, but to him it’s a sign that he always comes back. Get it…? No…? Okay-

Detective

- After the hot dog eating contest, Detective would no longer look at a hotdog the same again. He feels very nauseous at the mere sight of them.

- He still have nightmares about the Strong Man, feeling the pressure around his neck from his grip.

- Hates the sounds of snake slithering, makes his skin crawl.

- He misses Ro, and he feels like wherever his badge is, it’s keeping her comfort. It’s a sign to tell Ro that he’ll always be with her.

- He sleeps with Blanche at night, cuddling up into the stuffed horse while remembering the good times at the carnival.

- Is an expert at creating antidotes for any occasion, always be prepared he would always say.

Hermit

- I already added that he shakes like a dog when he gets wet, but I would also like to say after the shower, he shakes like that one rat video.

- He used to carve things into his wall, and became a habit in carving into random things. Rocks, walls, clothes, mattresses, people.

- A master at baking. Doesn’t matter if it’s meat or pastries, he could make Gordon Ramsey eat his heart out. One thing he can’t make is anything vegetable related, he’s likes a Middle Earth dwarf; he can’t stand vegetables.

- He also has the habit of collecting shiny objects, paperclips, rings, coins, spoons, anything that catches his eye.

- When he gets bored, he likes to make his own stories, then puts in more details to cover plot holes, then it becomes world building, then… he makes theories… ah… I see what they have in common.

Mack

- Has a sweet tooth, but doesn’t like admitting it since he believes it’s embarrassing. He would sneak into the pantry and nibbles on the cookies until Hermit caught him one night, and was happy that Mack likes his pastries.

- Has plants because it’s something only he has control over in his life. But he cares for those plants too, one touch from others and you’ll have a broken femur.

- He likes the cold, goes to Cryo every so often to relax and enjoy the cool air. That’s how Celci and Mack became mutuals, they both always complain about Mark’s antics.

- He’s a germaphobe, and carries hand sanitizer everywhere. That’s why he also likes the cold, it kills bacteria and he’ll feel safe.

- Even though he’s hates germs, he’s also touch starved. He never dated anyone, but someone he had a crush on hurt him so. So he also got them trust issues too. Poor man.

Warfpat

- Unlike Wilford who brandished his iconic butterfly knife, Warfpat carries a pair of scissors, he likes the way it slices through things.

- He thinks himself as the dad, and sees Matpat the mom, even though Matt is annoyed by his labeling. The others make fun of Matt and call him mom ironically and calls Warf dad, which makes him happy.

- Doesn’t sleep much. It’s not like he is nocturnal or has sleep deprivation, he physically doesn’t sleep, the amount of energy he has is immaculate. He likes to copy the others and sleep so he would relate to the egos.

- Warf likes to make scripts for his next interview, whether it’s for games or movies, he likes to post the scripts on the wall to see how it would look. He has Detective, Matt, and Mack to have second opinions, which makes him happy.

- He also likes stray cats. He walks around the streets and feeds them and gives them water. He wants to take them home but his studio manager doesn’t allow it, so feeding them is the next best thing.

- And the one things every egos have in common… is that they all love theater. You can’t change my mind on this.