#Rainie Beck

[themagicm]

Here is the last chapter of the story where Sharon faces a beautiful surprise as she prepares to leave San Francisco and return home.

[streetlamp-amber]

first kicks

batfamily x batmom!reader

word count: 1.9k | divider by @saradika | requests are open!

CW: family fluff, pregnancy NOTES: i wanted to write more batfam fluff this time with jason included. very sorry if jason is ooc, most of my knowledge of him comes from fics lol

Rainy Sunday afternoons at Wayne Manor were usually spent with you and your sons in the living room, occupying the big U-shaped sectional sofa. Sometimes Bruce would join you three, resting his feet on the coffee table as he worked on his laptop. Today was one of those days.

You were helping Dick do some research on the internet for a science school project that was due next week while Jason laid on his stomach on the other side of the couch, reading a Where’s Waldo? book by himself. Your husband sat in the other corner of the couch, doing some research on the latest villain terrorising Gotham. You didn’t mind if the work he was doing was for Batman, as long as he spent some time with the family outside of the cave, you were satisfied. Especially since the Wayne clan was about to expand in a little more than four months. Plus, with your belly growing bigger as the weeks went by, it was becoming harder for you to do some tasks around the house. Tasks that you didn’t want to ask Alfred for help with since it was your husband’s job to be at your beck and call through the pregnancy. Bruce obviously didn’t mind and loved helping you, he just sometimes tended to get lost in his Batman work for long periods of time.

The television was playing in the background, a football game between two teams that you didn’t really care about was taking place but you didn’t mind. You couldn’t work well without some sort of background noise and this was doing the job.

”So Dick, have you chosen which natural disaster to base your research project on?” Bruce asked your eldest while closing his laptop and joining him on his other side, making the twelve year old squished between his parents.

”We’ve narrowed it down to three: the 2011 Tōhoku earthquake and tsunami, the 1906 San Francisco earthquake and Hurricane Katrina,” Dick answered, clicking on different tabs of each of the natural disasters as he named them. “I want to do my research on a popular one so I can easily find all the information I need.”

”Smart, isn’t he?” You smirked at Bruce as you mindlessly threaded your fingers in Dick’s dark hair who continued scrolling on the internet.

“Never thought otherwise,” your husband said, mirroring your grin. “Jay, have you found all the Waldos yet?” He leaned forward to ask Jason.

“I’m almost done,” the six year old easily dismissed Bruce, not even bothering to tear his eyes away from the pages.

“It’s best not to bother him when he’s searching for Waldo,” you informed your husband in a low volume.

Bruce nodded his head in understanding and redirected his attention back on Dick. “So, how are you gonna make your choice, chum? You could write them down on three pieces of paper and do a draw,” he suggested, leaning his arm on the back of the couch behind Dick, his fingers playing with the neck of your tshirt.

“Dad, I don’t need to write it down on some paper,” Dick sighed, a little annoyed. “You can do that on the internet now.”

“You can?” Bruce asked, surprised. Your husband was really tech savvy when it came down to work related to Batman, but silly, random stuff like a drawing roulette was not part of his internet knowledge.

You leaned your head on your left hand that was propped on the back of the couch and soothingly rubbed your round belly with the other. You watched with a soft smile Dick showing Bruce how to generate a random picking wheel to spin on the internet. Moments like these were the ones you cherished the most, domesticity wasn’t always the norm around here when you had two vigilantes living under your roof so you always tried to savour them whenever they happened.

The calmness in you was interrupted when you felt movement under your right hand.

“Oh my God,” you whispered, eyes round like saucers as you looked down at your bump and raised up the hem of your shirt to make sure what you felt was right.

“What?” Bruce immediately turned his attention to you. “What is it? Is something wrong? Are you alright?”

“I think the baby just kicked,”you said, raising your head to meet his eyes.

“The baby just kicked?” He repeated in disbelief.

You shook your head ‘yes’ just as you felt more movement. “The baby kicked again.”

Bruce rapidly stood up to sit by your side while Dick discarded his laptop before placing a hand on your belly and Jason left his book to climb on your husband’s lap to be closer to you. All had a hand on your stomach, staring at it expectantly, waiting for another kick.

“I don’t know if the baby’s gonna kick again,” you told them.

“Well that’s just not fair,” Jason whined.

“We just need to be patient,” Bruce said. “I’m sure the baby will do it again.”

And sure enough he was right. 

“Oh my God! I felt it! I felt the baby kick!” Dick exclaimed, though he kept the volume of his voice to a low level as if he would scare the baby away if he screamed.

“I wanna feel it too!” Jason cried.

“Here Jay, put your hand there,” you told your youngest as you gently grabbed his wrist and moved his hand to a different area of your belly, closer to Dick’s hand.

“Maybe if we keep talking, the baby will kick again,” Dick suggested.

“That’s true, babies can hear us from inside the mother’s belly,” Bruce agreed with him.

“They can?” Jason looked at you quizzically.

You chuckled at his confused face as you brushed his hair away from his forehead. “Yeah they can, it’s not completely soundproof in there,” you answered him.

“That’s why Dad is always talking to your belly?” Dick asked.

You fully laughed at this. “Yes, that’s why Dad talks to the belly. You can too if you wanna.”

“We can?” Dick perked up then leaned closer to your bump. “Hi baby, I’m Dick. Your big brother,” he said.

Jason also leaned forward. “And I’m Jason, I’m also gonna be your big brother.”

“Yeah but I’m the big big brother, I’m the oldest,” Dick argued.

“But I’m gonna be a big brother too!”

“Boys,” Bruce intervened. “No arguing around your mother. The baby will hear enough of that when it joins our lives, let it have its peace while it’s in the womb.”

A series of kicks started at that moment, making Dick and Jason gasp in surprise at the movements they felt under their hands. Bruce turned to you and the two of you shared a look full of love.

“That’s our baby,” he said to you, almost in a whisper, while Dick and Jason continued marvelling at the fact they could feel their sibling.

“That's our baby,” you repeated in confirmation. Nothing could've erased the smiles on both of your lips.

“I love you,” Bruce said against your forehead before leaving a soft kiss there and pulling away to share a short peck on the lips with you.

“Ew! Gross!” Jason interrupted your moment. Your sons weren’t the biggest fans of you and Bruce’s displays of affection for each other.

You giggled at the boys’ antics but still took a second to say “I love you” back to your husband.

“Someone should get Alfred so we can share this moment with him,” you suggested to the kids.

“Not it!”

“Not it!”

Jason and Dick quickly shouted, the former being the fastest to say it.

Dick groaned before he stood up from the couch and jogged out of the living room. The faster he would find Alfred, the faster he would be back next to you. “Alfred! The baby is kicking for the first time!” Dick called through the manor for your butler.

“He knows he doesn’t need to scream, right?” Bruce asked you. “Alfred can hear the boys break something all the way from the other side of the house.”

“Oh, let him be. He’s just very excited about the baby kicking,” you lightly reprimanded him with the corner of your mouth pulling up in a smirk.

You detached your gaze from your husband down to Jason who now had both of his small hands on your belly, his mouth in the shape of an ‘O’ and his eyes round with wonder in them.

“This is so cool,” he said, barely above a whisper.

“Looks like you’re gonna have some competition Jay, that baby sure is kicking a lot,” Bruce jokingly commented as the kicking didn’t stop.

You chuckled as you remembered all the times you’d stop by the gym room to find Jason relentlessly kicking at Bruce’s punching bag. For a six year old, he already had so much anger pent up inside his little body and it worried you sometimes. But ever since Bruce brought him back to the Manor, Jay had been getting better. The amount of vases thrown at the wall had drastically decreased since then, both to yours and Alfred’s reliefs, and he instead would run to the gym room and let out his anger on the punching bag when needed.

“I can’t wait to play fight with you,” Jason whispered loudly to your belly with a smile.

“No,” you immediately said.

“Best you stick to play fighting with Dick for a couple more years, buddy,” Bruce told your son.

Jason pouted. “But he's always pulling some acrobatic shit–”

“Language!” You scolded him.

“But Ma! Dad and Dick say it all the time!” Jason cried out defensively. “That’s not fair,” he retracted his hands from your belly to cross his arms over his chest.

“Well Dad and Dick, and you too apparently, will not be saying words like that around the baby,” you warned. “Capiche?”

“Capiche,” Jason mumbled.

“Capiche?” You repeated, now glaring at your husband.

“Hey, I’ve really been refraining on the bad words ever since Dick joined us,” Bruce argued but you raised your eyebrows in a way that said this wasn’t what you wanted to hear. “Capiche,” Bruce sighed out, knowing he wasn't going to win this fight.

“Master Dick, slow down a little. There’s no need for running,” you heard Alfred’s voice approaching down the hall.

“But Alfred, the baby is kicking!” Dick reiterated.

Your oldest ran in the living room, his hand firmly holding Alfred’s who tried to keep up behind him.

“I heard you the first ten times, Master Dick, the baby will still be there no matter how fast we get there,” Alfred argued.

“Yeah but it might stop kicking,” Dick said and the two sat on the couch to your unoccupied left.

“Don’t worry chum, the baby’s still kicking,” Bruce told him while looking fondly at your belly.

“Please Alfred, feel the baby,” you said to your butler with an inviting smile, grabbing his hand that rested on his knee and gently squeezing it. “We want you to be part of this moment too.”

Alfred’s hand joined the others on your bump and the old man smiled at you and Bruce as he felt the tiny bumps moving around under your skin. “This is sensational.”

“Isn’t it?” You smiled back at him, content to have everyone you wanted to share your baby’s first kicks with.

Your little family of five (soon-to-be six) remained on the couch until the baby grew tired and stopped kicking, much to Dick and Jason’s dismay. Alfred went back to his tasks, the boys to their laptop and book, and Bruce wrapped his arm around your shoulder as you cuddled next to him, watching over your children and just enjoying the normalcy of this Sunday afternoon.

Domesticity used to be rare at the Wayne Manor, but not anymore. And you, for one, were very happy about it.

[belovedivies]

the ending season (soft! makima x f!reader)

summary: In your shared bedroom one early rainy morning, Makima reflected on her feelings for you.

tags: fluff, possessive behaviors, soft makima, implied sexual content, implied breeding kink, dom makima, established relationship, minor character study, minor spoiler for makima's character (??), violent thoughts (cuz it's makima :3), one shot.

word count: 1,321 title is inspired by a mamerico song called kirari futari <3 also cross-posted on my ao3.

For all centuries of her existence, Makima was far from perfection.

She's not the strongest devil. She's still at beck and call of Japan's government. Even in a rare moment where her carefully crafted façade slipped by just a fraction to reveal a lonely, love-starved woman behind it all... that disgusted her too.

Makima had many pets. Human, to be exact, though none of their rights or feelings mattered the second she wrapped a collar around their necks and put them on a leash. Promises of sweet rewards were never fulfilled; none of them ever made it out alive at the end anyway. The redhead grew bored of her man playthings as time passed, so she spiced things up for her enjoyment by adding a girl to the mix.

A girl who happened to be you.

And for centuries of her existence, never once had Makima thought you would have this much effect on her. The way you walked, the way you talked, the way you carried yourself. All laced with incredible warmth and gentleness—feelings that she thought a monster like her wasn’t privy to. Yet, at this moment, lying underneath the soft blanket with you curled up on her chest as a storm rages outside the window, some part of Makima grappled with this strange fuzzy feeling inside her long-dead heart.

The almighty Control Devil couldn't be soft; her so-called benevolence towards humanity didn't extend that direction. Makima played her part well for many years, being the compliant subordinate whom the higher-ups called for and the unfeeling leader whose presence most devil hunters deliberately avoided. Then why? Why did it only take for one simple girl to—

"Makima..."

You stirred in your sleep and the redhead's train of thoughts came to an abrupt halt.

Outside, lightning flashes, thunder crashing loud enough to shake the windows. Your place was small and cozy, but ultimately not a very ideal home for the upcoming stormy September. Makima made a mental note to contact the movers soon—you'd be better off at her villa, with her by your side.

(Where we both belonged.)

Possessiveness was a part of the woman's nature, a selfish desire to obtain what was rightfully hers. She knew this well during her intense search for Chainsaw Man. Lies, manipulation, and violence became somewhat of a routine she wouldn't shake off.

She couldn't.

But she wanted to, for you.

Makima looked at you. Like really, really looked at you and took in everything. In the near pitch blackness of your bedroom with the faint, flicking lamp on the nightstand as the only source of light, you were all she saw. You and your messy bedhead, with little locks of hair that spread out over the pillow like a halo. You and that little bit of drool that was pooling at the corner of your mouth. Your breath, so shallow it was also non-existent with the storm raging in the background. Vulnerability never looked so good on anyone as it did you.

You were warm, you were perfect. She wanted to kill you sometimes.

You were lying two centimeters away from the redhead at most, so what's stopping her from reaching over and wrapping her hands around your neck? Human was a fragile kind with an even more fragile lifespan. No matter how much they tried to squeal with grand, over-the-top gestures, it wouldn't change the fact that they were just... that. A forgettable and insignificant existence in the scheme of things. 

Her hands shifted underneath the blanket from where they were resting over the curve of your waist.

You were really warm.

And suddenly, she didn't want to move a single muscle anymore.

(This could wait until tomorrow.)

She said that yesterday too. And the day before that, and before that, and way before she could be bothered to recall. You were a threat to her authority from the day Makima let you stay in her bed and embrace her a second longer. Maybe she only had herself to blame for letting her guard down and allowing things to go this far. It’s not just a bad movie that the Control Devil could simply turn off and walk away from. No, you were now a constant presence in her life. A presence she didn’t want to get rid of. Why, she asked herself again.

Maybe it’s because you’re cute, and definitely too naive for your own good. Makima was amused at the number of times she walked home, covered in blood and you would still run up to the door to kiss her cheek and tell her dinner was ready. There’s a warm bath too, and that tiramisu she liked so much for dessert. You added a small twist of cinnamon to her recipe; she didn’t dislike it. 

A silly girl, but a good girl nonetheless. 

Her good girl.

Makima’s arms tightened themselves around your waist at the thought. Not quite pushing you closer, just… securing her hold on you. This blanket wasn’t thick enough, and the cold might make you squirm away from her touch. Or just her in general.

After all, these hands weren’t built to be gentle. 

They choked, they killed, they settled fates, and destroyed lives in a flash. She could wash the gore off in a public bathroom later, paying no attention to the lingering stench of alcohol and cigarettes in the surroundings. Makima’s thoughts would trail back to your smiling face as she dried her hands off and readjusted her trenchcoat. She wondered if you knew about her job, her identity, and the things she had done for a better world. It was always those same adoring eyes that greeted her once she got back like she hung the moon and stars. She would catch Chainsaw Man eventually. One fight, then a lifetime of utopian. 

It would be a picture-perfect future that the woman knew you fit in just fine. 

An eternity to come with you beside her. Maybe even under, on top, in the bedroom, the kitchen, and the couch. You would moan her sweet name so sweetly as she pounded away at your sweet little cunt. Oh, she would definitely get you pregnant, heavy with her powerful children. It was a family Makima had dreamt of for so long, and she would make it a reality. Soon, when you were ready for her.

Another flash of thunder ripped through the gloomy early sky. This time, it was you who snuggled further into her chest and let out a mewl that did that weird thing to her heart. You finally woke up, it seemed. 

“Morning~” her little angel yawned with a smile, pulling away just enough as the bruising grip she still had on your waist allowed you to stretch your shoulders. It never really occurred to Makima how readily you basked in her borderline suffocating attention. “How did you sleep, my love?”

Love.

The corner of your girlfriend’s lips curled up into a half-smile. One of her hands left your midriff to bring yours to her face, pressing soft, worshipful kisses on your knuckles. Oh, she’s in love with you alright, and whatever the fuck you were doing to Makima, it was genuinely changing her life. “Best sleep I’ve ever had.”

The redhead hummed against the soft skin of your palm, nuzzling her cheek into it. You did this. You and your gentle loving melted down the walls surrounding her heart. A foreign territory that terrified just as much as it captivated Makima. But for you…

Yes, you. 

She was loved, and she wanted to learn how to love you in return. Even if the attempt was clumsy, even if her bad habits were sure to resurface and become an obstacle.

Even if she got hurt.

“Say, baby girl…” Makima’s voice dropped to a low whisper. “Since the storm doesn’t seem to let up anytime soon…

care for some breakfast in bed?” 

[yourlocaltreesimp]

Yan!Chain Headcannons

Wild and Warriors

part 1

part 2

Tw: Yandarism and it’s accessories, violence, obsession, manipulation, unhealthy power dynamics (?)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Wild

It took him a while to fully trust you. Well, he recognised that he trusted long before he realised just how much of himself he wanted you to know. It took him longer to remember just how important you were on his journey, how you stuck by his side through rainy days and sunny skies. He knew you wouldn’t mind the blood on his hands.

He suppressed the memory of your guidance after you left, not wanting to admit that he’d lost another friend on his assignment of saving Hyrule. Perhaps it was his guilt that did it, blotting out your face and forgetting your warmth on his skin. Or perhaps it was others, like Impa and Zelda, neither of which saw you. Neither of which believed him, even as he wracked with sobs at the loss of you.

Main love languages are physical touch and acts of service. He will stick to your side as Hyrule burns now he has you back. Especially since they neglected to realise your importance, your utter divinity. How gracious you were to forgive them. But he was taught to be ruthless. And the wilds only coaxed it out of him farther. He’d never leave your side, doing whatever it was you asked. Cook food? He is the chef afterall. Fetch something? You shouldn’t need to tire yourself on something he could do for you. Protect you? What he was trained to do, and you’re far more worthy of his attention. Kill a man? His only question is how you’d like it done. Anything for his angel. Anything.

He loves being close to you. Having you there. Sure, he loves being wrapped around you, keeping you safe from the cruel world. But there’s something about having you hold him as if he’s precious that just makes him swoon. He’s at your beck and call already, but he dreams of having your hands in his hair and being between your legs arms.

He is a downright fool. Just in general, but especially for you. Anything you want done and he’s already running to do it, even if there’s no plan in his mind. Lord forbid you’re ever harmed or taken though. Don’t get me wrong, the others are just as seething and prepared to scorch the earth until you are returned, but Wild won’t wait. No. He’ll slaughter armies. If he could take on all of the champions and hold his own, he can take them all. Especially if it’s in your name, or for your hand.

Or, Better yet, it’s one of the few times he does plan. He’s so eerily still and quiet as he mulls over every detail of how to save you, how to avenge you. That’s the Wild the world needs to worry about. Sure, the feral one is scary. But when he’s pissed and planning? Terrifying.

Would probably ask to marry you. He already has a house, title, land and favour of the crown, all he needs is a wife and kids. And he knows there’s no one else that could fill that role. You protect him, even when it’s not your job. You make him happier than anything. You calm him from his night terrors and patiently wait for him to stop clawing at his scars. You bandage his wounds, you help him cook, you bless him to stand at your side. He couldn’t live without you. Please don’t leave again.

He wouldn’t necessarily kidnap you. But don’t be surprised if a portal drags you back to his universe after everything is said and done.

Preferred nicknames for you: (my) Love, Dear(est), my flower, honey

Bonus: Feral. He is absolutely and utterly feral. Not to your face, no, he’s the goofy champion you knew him to be. But to the men who look at you as if you were an object, to the women that glared at you as if you were filth, he was unhinged.

Warriors

He’s chivalrous, albeit a little bit of a flirt when you first met. Sure, he’s a little more hesitant, given how familiar you are and how his heart fluttered, but he’s just as much as a flirt as we all agree he is. That is, until he remembered you. Then he can’t even bring himself to utter your name without his face turning red.

Man is whipped.

Utterly done for.

He usually didn’t miss the loud boasting of his old comrades. The knights were not usually the type of comfort he seemed out, despite their familiarity. But now, he wished he had their advice. He’d finally found a person to faun over and yet he’s stumbling over his own words.

His feelings derail into obsession after seeing you so easily speaking with the others. How he wished he could have you at his side and his side only. But he kept his ambitions to himself, playing lovesick fool to the others so they wouldn’t expect his knife.

He’d consider dealing with the others. Weather or not he goes through with it varies on a lot of things, but the thought has passed through his mind.

He doesn’t have a love language that he expresses, more just finding whatever makes you the most flustered and sticking to that. Praises and flattery? He’ll write ballads, poems, letters, whatever it is you wish. He’d hold you for hours if it what made you happy, having an arm always strewn around your soulders or waist. He’d do whatever it is you wanted to do, keeping you save and enjoying the happiness you excerpted.

He, however, absolutely adores quality time with you. It doesn’t need to be much, or anything at all. Just so long as you’re near and content with him, he’s head over heels.

Another one to court you traditionally. Flowers, love letters, fancy dates, fancier gifts, whatever your heart desired of him. He does this because it’s the only way of romance he’s familiar with, courtesy of the novels he’s read, but also to silently show off to the others that you’re his. Not something that’s shared. If you shatter a vase and share the peices, it’s just a shard. Not a vase. He doesn’t want just a fraction of your love, a shard of your heart. He wants all of it.

He’d kidnap you. 100%. He’d flaunt off his new spouse too, so everyone knows who to return them to if ever you ran away. You’d be safe, albeit not the normal definition of free. You have everything you desire. But he’d definitely play white knight, putting you through danger to save you from it. Just to remind you how much safer it his to be with him.

Favourite nicknames for you: My love, My dear, Dearest, Darling, My heart, My soul, Maybe just Mine on occasion.

Bonus: He kissed your hand when he met you. Got on one knee and everything.

[ace-of-gay]

Tiny for today

Loki x little! reader

Warnings: age regression, little names like baby, tiny. Caregiver name like daddy, (i think thats honestly the only one)

Items like stuffies and paci, bottle. Reader regresses to newborn headspace

No weight, skin color, or gender mentioned.

Age regression is a coping mechanism if you dont like it please dont read it or educate yourself on the topic but please be respectful

Any hate will be deleted

Waking up doe eyed and deep in your headspace, loki knows immediately just from the glance you give him, turning the lights lower so not to hurt his sweet baby's eyes, he walks over, putting in full effort to keep a kind gentle demeanor, “good morning my dovey, were tiny today aren’t we?” He questions, knowing hes not going to get an answer.

“Yes, I believe we are, which means it’s a daddy and baby day hm?”

He would be lying if he said this want one of his favorite types of regressions you do, he doesn’t get to see his little one like this all that often, the sweet sparkly eyes are a given, those alone have him wrapped around your finger, hes at your beck and call or more so your babble and cry but right now the sweet gentle hold of your eyes to his approach, “yes, indeed, a divine rainy day for daddy and his little star” he coos at you, running his supple hand over your cheek, cherishing every ounce of adoration his heart could feel in the wake of your smile.

A small tiny babble of pure love and wanting to feel him hold you, he took this with immediate understanding, as you move your arms somewhat aimlessly he helps loosens you from the blanket so you don’t accidentally bend your arms or hands in a way that would strain or pull on them funny.

Lifting you into his arms, holding you chest to chest with him as he grabs a paci from the bedside table and your stuffy from the bed, he carries you to the living room a bounce in his step to soothe you and a hum in his chest, he knew you loved this he would make sure to have one of your hands above his chest so you could feel the vibrations of the sweet thrum of his voices resonation in his chest just for you.

Laying you gently on the couch he holds your stuffy above you to boop your nose with its nose, making kissy sounds as he taps the stuffys nose against your smiley cheeks and sweet delicate nose, he lays the stuffy atop your chest where your little hands could easily grasp it, he turns to move the coffee table to the side of the room, going into the closet, pulling out the padding mat your favorite blankie for when you’re tiny and a few other things, making a comfy little place on the floor for you, much safer than having you somewhere you could fall.

After transferring you to the little nest as he called it he gave you your paci turning on comforting calm music and going to the kitchen to make himself tea and you a warm bottle of milk, keeping his eyes on you as he does this.

When he returns to you he sets his tea aside wanting to make sure you got your bottle first since you couldn’t quite tell him when you needed food or drink he wanted to make sure you weren’t neglected in your needs, holding you gently in his arms making sure you were comfy in his arms before he goes to take your paci but you trill in soft baby giggles when you refuse to let him take it.

“Oh silly baby, someone’s being mischievous and its not me for once, can daddy take your paci? I have a bottle of warm yummy milk for my baby” to which you allow him to take the paci cause I mean what little one would pass up a yummy bottle in the morning.

Hes full of adoration, especially when you suckle on the bottle so intently with half lidded eyes, like it took all of you to just do the small things and that’s perfectly fine with him, its what hes here for, hes here to take care of his baby, hes honored that you trust him with you in such a vulnerable state.

After your bottle and all related in that he takes small comforting sips from his tea before pulling out one of his many books, it didn’t matter what he read aloud so long as it was appropriate, his favorite writings were old poems of sweet rotations of love how it be that planets circle the sun in a dance that with their gravity pulls causing the star to dance from a tiny wobble. One hand holding the book and his other running through your hair, today was about his little one, making sure to keep you happy and calm, he’d plant every tree on earth in light of the sun and down of the rain if it meant he could see your smile everyday the way he sees it right now.

[deathbxnny]

Hi! Could I request for platonic headcanons of Neuvillette and Wriothesley with their s/o maybe daughter who has a chronic illness/flare-ups and how they would deal with it?

Hello there, anon! Thank you for your request, and I hope you'll like this! Also, I'm sorry for taking so long. Life is as busy as always, but I was determined to post something today anyway!!<33

Content: Vague mentions of a chronical illness, reader is a child, dad Neuvillette and Wriothesley supremacy, some angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, platonic relationships, sfw

Reader is described as their daughter, but no pronouns are mentioned.

((Not fully proofread))

☆Neuvillette☆

Neuvillette is forever thankful, that you were born in his care. He has all means in the world to take care of you and makes sure you know that well. You never have to lift a finger with him around. But that can also make him come off as overbearing, which he tries to keep in check for your sake.

He has the best doctors in all of Fountaine at your beck and call whenever your illness gets worse. Being the daughter of one of the most important men in the entire country makes you a top priority to everyone. He has a hard time seeing you in pain, however, but tries to not make it seen how badly it affects him at times. You often question though, why most days seem to be rainy, whenever you rapidly get worse again.

He definitely takes you on daily walks whenever you have the energy for it. He takes his time for you and clears his schedule for it. He doesn't mind taking many breaks and simply sitting somewhere and enjoying the scenery with you, if it means that he can enjoy them with you. It makes it easier to deal with the heartache.

☆Wriothesley☆

Wriothesley was stressed at first, when he first learned about your illness. It took him by surprise, perhaps because he never thought of that possibility, and that alone made it difficult to deal with. But he made it work in the end ofcourse for your sake. He makes sure you never see his doubts and fears, whenever your health gets worse again. He's always strong for you.

With that said, you spend alot of time with Sigewinne in the infirmary. It's the safest place for you in the fortress and keeps you far away from all the dangers that come with it. It makes him secretly resent that you have to be stuck down here when you should've been spending the energy you do have left in the overworld above. But at the same time, he is thankful he is your father. No one could keep you safe like he would.

He loves spending all his free time that he does get with you, whilst you tell him about your day and drink tea with him. Moments like those make him realise that all his hard work was worth it.

Alrighttt! It's been a while since I've written anything, so I hope this isn't too rusty, haha! Thank you again for the request, Anon!<33

[videogames-i-wish-were-real]

Videogames I wish were real #85

Oh to live in play a pixel art Pokemon farming sim. You have a cute lil house you can decorate to your liking. Every day you get to take care of your berries and apricorns. You get to feed and pet and take care of your pokemon. There's minigames where you get to bath them or play stuff like hide and seek or tag or tic-tac-toe or with them. You can pick one pokemon to follow you around. When you reach a high enough friendship level with one pokemon they'll sometimes bring you gifts and you can ask them to help you with some chores around the house or the farm. You use the wool you get from Mareeps and Wooloos to knit sweaters and socks and blankets. You make cheese and butter with the milk you get from Miltank. Once you progress enough in the game you get to open a cute lil store in the town where you sell all your homemade wares to the townspeople and also items to visiting trainers such as the pokeballs you make from apricorns. Every couple of months you turn on your tv and hear about a ten year old saving the world and half the time you know the kid because they've been to your store. Sometimes you'll find wild pokemon you can approach and befriend. No combat mechanics, you feed the pokemon or pet them or offer them shinies and they usually leave you alone except sometimes they'll follow you home. The cute lil town you live in has a ton of festivities and charming npcs. You can ask npcs to be your (platonic or not) roommates, you can marry npcs, you can have kids or adopt them (without being on a relationship) or stay single. There's no limit to how many pokemon beds you can place inside your house. You can place pokebeds, food and water bowls anywhere in the world. You can also fish and dive and mine and forage. If you leave a bunch of berries in an ancient hidden shrine to Groudon/Kyogre you can ensure that the next day is rainy or extra sunny. One time you ran into Palkia and Dialga and offered them some really tasty pokepuffs so now you have the gods of space and time at your beck and call and you can basically time travel and teleport as long as you give them treats first. You like to stay up late on the nights when the tv says there's going to be Minior showers to watch the colorful falling stars with your pokemon cuddled at your side. Life is good.

Similar games that actually exist: Stardew Valley, Pokemon, Moonstone Island, Ooblets, Monster Harvest, Critter Crops, Ova Magica

[thefroggiesden]

Here's my latest piece! I took the sun tarot card and thought about what it really means to me and then put my own symbolism into it. The four leaf clover is for good luck, the crayons are for a free and happy inner child. The tulips are for gratitude and colors have meanings too: red is for love, pink is for affection, orange is for energy and creativity, and yellow is for joy and hope. Rainbows represent cheerfulness on rainy days and seeing the color in everything:).

About:

The Sun

Artist: Beck Babcock/ The Froggies' Den (Me!)

Medium: acrylic on canvas paper

Dimensions: 5.5 inches×9.5 inches

[em1e]

TOKYO REV.

★ author's fave. ✦ fan faves.

バジ・baji keisuke

playground ─ baji would be damned if he’d never come to your beck and call, especially when his name leaves your lips so sweetly. angst. canon character death. ★

the night we met ─ baji hasn’t changed. won’t. not for you, not for anyone else. angst. breakups.

avant grande ─ baji is just a great friend, helping chifuyu out. he doesn't even like flowers. flowershop!au

ruined kingdoms ─ you are to be married to king kisaki before your father passes but he is not the person you wish to be with. series. knight!baji/half-brother!kazu. royalty!au. ★

mini hc ─ going to the hair salon with baji. fluff.

mini hc ─ working fast food w baji.

spider-baji ─ spider-man has slowly become public enemy no. 1 (to you). spider-man!au. fluff. mentions of injuries and violence.

always ─ does baji believe in soulmates? you do. soulmate!au. angst and fluff. character death and injuries.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

鶴蝶・kakucho

i know the end ─ or now, he’ll remember all he has with you. canon character death. angst.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

羽宮 一虎・kazutora hanemiya

rotten work ─ kazutora thinks his burdens are too much for anyone, especially you. angst.

notes ─ kazutora finds himself frozen in place, feet rooted to the ground at the site of blood. manila!kazu. angst. mentions of violence.

motion sickness ─ he’s taller, now, hair bleached, but it’s still those same wide eyes that meet your own. angst. canon character death.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

九井 一・hajime kokonoi

on again off again ─ you want to burrow yourself under his skin and make home in his bones but he won’t fucking let you. angst. unhealthy relationships.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

佐野 万次郎・manjiro 'mikey' sano

props & mayhem ─ you’re already being lulled to sleep by the beat of his heart and the warmth he provides. bonten!mikey.

kill all your friends ─ you've always been home for mikey, but how long can that last when he's spiraling? manila!mikey. canon character death. mentions of blood and injuries. angst. ★

given the choice ─ you've always liked mikey growing up. how do you tell him years down the line that you've had his kid? bonten!mikey. older bro!draken. character death. pregnancy. angst. ✦

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

灰谷 蘭・ran haitani

bruised knuckles & busted lips ─ ran likes knowing he has you to take care of him when he needs. mentions of blood. angst (?)

rainy nights ─ ran lives for the chase you bring about. angst-ish

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

佐野 真一郎・shinichiro sano

training wheels ─ mikey wants his own motorbike, shinichiro thinks he needs to learn to ride a regular bike first. fluff.

life with the sano's ─ mini series ft. you dating shinichiro and whatever chaos that comes from that. warnings on post. ★ ✦

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

河田 ソウヤ・souya kawata

puppy love ─ souya is is like a dad - says he doesn't want a pet but babies it once it's home. fluff.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

三ツ谷 隆・ takashi mitsuya

for the best ─ the feeling of your hands is scorching, burning the deepest parts of him and settling as a fresh gaping wound in his chest. manila!mitsuya. angst. canon character death. ★

the death of a friend ─ it's easier dive into work than deal with the emotions that come with something so horrible. three deities!mitsuya. canon character death. angst.

mini hc ─ mitsuya vs the coffee brewing in the morning. fluff-ish.

mini hc ─ mitsuya designing dresses for his little girl. fluff.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

今牛 若狭・ wakasa imaushi

babysitter's club ─ shinichiro asks if you can babysit your younger cousin's for the night, and you get to have a late night convo with his pretty friend after. cousin!sano's. drinking. ★ ✦

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

マルチ・ multi

tokyo revengers & dating ─ misc dating scenarios w baji, chifuyu, shinichiro. ✦

tokyo revengers && first meetings ─ misc. first times meeting wakasa, kazutora, rindou. ✦

tokyo revengers && haircare ─ misc. letting you do things to draken, mikey, ran's hair. ✦

i'm just ken ─ unrequited love w draken, rindou, wakasa.

hey brother!! ─ the runt of the litter gets a few new guard dogs. sib!haitani's. tenjiku memebers. read warnings.

⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀MASTERLIST ♡ PINNED

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 011024

[bawdy-booster]

Thoughts on a weak villain with hypnotic powers and a powerful hero? The hero underestimates the villain at first, but minutes later are saying "yes master/mistress" and obeying their every command

Oooooh I really like the sound of that! There's so much focus in the world of heroes on who's the Biggest Baddest Baddie that no one would ever expect some low-level supercriminal to be able to enthrall the minds of even the greatest of heroes.

So sorry it took so long to answer! Been dealing with a lot of stress in the real world and I haven't been able to focus on writing for a while. I hope you enjoy the story!

--- --- ---

Perhaps robbing a bank in the middle of broad daylight hadn’t been the smartest idea.

This was the singular thought in Coin Countess’s villainous mind as she found herself cornered in the vault by the one and only Daring Crusader, Statesborough’s Greatest Hero.

“Let’s get this over with, Countess,” the caped hero smirked, “There’s a warm cell at Carolcroon with your name on it and I wouldn’t like it to get cold.”

“A Penny Saved is a Penny Earned, Daring Dolt,”  The Villainess declared grandly.  “And I’m hardly bankrupt yet.  In fact, I have a secret weapon I’ve been saving for a rainy day such as this — BEHOLD!”

The Hero flinched as Coin Countess reached into her purse.  He readied himself for the worst, only to stare dumbfounded as she produced a singular coin on a string.

“What am I looking at?”

The Villainess cackled as she began to swing the coin back and forth from her dainty fingertip.  “Why, surely you’d recognize your undoing, Crusader.  This is my Ultimate Triumph, for no hero can resist the pleasure of gazing upon my Penny of Pleasure~”

Daring Crusader blinked.  “It’s… It’s just a coin.  On a string.  Swinging.”

Coin Countess continued to grin, though, in the back of her mind, panic struck like a coiled serpent.  She was hoping he’d have fallen by now.  Everyone else who’d gazed upon her Precious Penny would have with a mere glance.  Sure, he had power beyond imagination and everyone else had been decidedly average, but still!

“Ahhh~” she cooed, “But take a closer look, and you’ll see your fate has already been sealed.  Look at its glamorous shine as it swings back and forth from my finger, leaving you senseless at my mercy.”

“No,” the Hero remarked, “I’m… I’m pretty sure… it’s just a… a coin…”

“A coin is a coin, certainly, but at the beck and call of the Coin Countess?  The Princess of Pennies?  The Duchess of Dimes?  Why, soon it will be the one thing you can think of.  The only thing you can think of.”

Coin Countess continued to swing the coin before Daring Crusader, drawing his focus further and further towards the swaying copper coin.  His eyes remained steadfast and focused on the coin as if he dared it to try and hypnotize him.

“Relax…” she whispered soothingly.  “You sell yourself short so much, don’t you?  Wouldn’t you just like to let your worries go bankrupt and empty that mind of yours?”

Agreement murmured from Daring Crusader’s mouth incoherently.  Coin Countess blushed profusely.  She knew her coin could be used to manipulate minds, but she didn’t know it could work this effectively.  She was impressed!

…she was eager to test how deep he was.

“How do you feel, Daring Crusader?”  She whispered in his ear.  The Hero gave an approving grunt, unable to tear his focus from the swaying coin.  “Very good, Daring Crusader.  It feels so good to look at my coin.  You want to feel good, don’t you?”

Another approving grunt.  This was looking to become easier than she could have ever dreamed of.

“You know what else will make you feel good?  Whenever I call you My Little Coin.  Doesn’t that make you feel good, My Little Coin?”

The Countess’ Little Coin gave a grunt of approval.

“Of course, what would make you feel even better is if you vocalized how good you felt.  When you affirm how good you feel.  Whenever I speak to you, you will feel good when you answer ‘Yes, Mistress’.  Will that help you feel good, My Little Coin?”

“Yes, Mistress.”  Her Little Coin spoke emptily, his eyes unwavering from their focus on her hypnotic coin swaying before him.  A blissful smile crept up his lips, betraying his apparent focus to display how wonderful he felt.

The Countess had to conceal her delight with how well this was going.  “Good Coin~”  She praised.  “You’re my Little Coin, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“You belong to your Coin Countess, don’t you, my Little Coin?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“You want nothing but to please your Coin Countess, don’t you, my Little Coin?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Coin Countess brought the sway of her hypnotic coin to a stop, taking it in hand to display before her Little Coin.  “Here.”  She ordered, placing it directly on the forehead of the former hero.  “So long as this is on your head, you will obey my every command and feel so good.  Am I clear, my Little Coin?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Walk with me.”

The Villainess walked out of the vault, followed by her new henchman.  At her beck and call, he followed her every command.

Carry out those bags of cash?

“Yes, Mistress.”

Fight off the cops pursuing her?

“Yes, Mistress.”

Capture more of those awful heroes to turn into good little coins?

“Yes, Mistress.”

Of course, she never bothered to tell anyone here Precious Penny was no more than that — just a regular penny.  No different from any other one would find on the street.  As she came to understand it, it simply allowed her to harness her hypnotic powers of persuasion as a conduit of control.

Sure, this would mean she’d be better known as someone like Mesmera, the Matriarch of the Mind, able to ensnare the hearts and minds of all with anything she comes across.  But she already had a theme going for her!  Why change her motif if being Coin Countess allowed her to enthrall her foes when they least expected it?

After all, they’d never count on someone like her being able to enthrall so many unsuspecting heroes~

[sednonamoris]

stormchaser

Pairing: John Marston x gn!reader

Summary: Abigail Roberts joins the gang. Your relationship with John is changed, maybe forever.

Warnings: Pregnancy mention, hunting animals, brief mention of dead animals, canon-typical alcohol use, jealousy

Word count: 1,385

A/N: First of all I need to specify that Ghost is jealous of Abigail and thinks badly of her rn, but this story will not vilify Abigail’s character in any way!!! I love her!!!! Second of all it’s not terribly long but I hope you all find this chapter as juicy as I did bc I’ve been looking forward to this one pretty much from the start. Also this chap is 2/3 in a series, the first being ‘cloudburst’. The last one will be ‘thunderstruck’ - I’ll let you do with that info what you will  👀

Series masterlist • AO3

—

When Abigail Roberts joins up with the gang everyone clamors for her attention. The women help with her chores and mend her dresses and pet her long, dark hair. The men make excuses to come by her tent and help her onto wagons and touch her hand by the campfire. It’s obvious why; she’s a beautiful young woman.

You’re not sure you’ll ever forgive her for that.

Of course, you might not have minded at all if it wasn’t for John. He’s smitten. Every moment he used to spend riding or robbing or roaming with you is now spent at her beck and call. You tell yourself it’s not jealousy that crawls up your throat and colors his name green in your mouth when you call across camp, knowing who he’s with. You tell yourself it’s a coincidence when you wake up next to a pretty, painted whore with dusky blue eyes and brown hair just like hers the next time you’re in town. You even tell yourself that it doesn’t hurt to watch the grey of John’s eyes shine stormcloud bright when they turn toward the object of his affections. When that object isn’t you. 

Like some storybook romance he courts her. It’s clumsy - it’s John - but he brings her half-crushed flowers, and tries to read her some of Dutch’s poetry, and eventually he stops paying for the privilege of a night with her because they cut out the middleman and start sharing a tent. 

Arthur notices your sulkiness. Hosea, too, though neither say anything outright. Instead they break your heart further with sad, understanding smiles and warm hands clasped on your shoulder in passing. Sometimes you wish they’d spill your secrets for the whole camp to see, just to put you out of your misery.

The days you aren’t out hunting you’re fencing horses or robbing farmers - anything to keep far from camp. Once a week you come back with cash to add to the box and a few new stories to trade around the campfire. Dutch is appeased by the money and the odd tip you bring home, and John—

You wait for him to say something about how distant you’ve been.

He doesn’t. 

—

The sky is clear when Abigail announces her pregnancy in front of the whole camp a few months later, but you smell a storm on the horizon. 

She’s so goddamn happy, and everyone cheers and shouts and rushes to hug her, and you think Ms. Grimshaw’s eyes gloss with tears at the promise of new life and young love, but John’s smile catches at the corners. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes. The panic does, and as much as your heart is already broken and you’ve given up hope, there’s some savage satisfaction you get from knowing he might be miserable now, too. 

Dutch calls for a celebration. Everyone clamors to break out cases of beer and Hosea even proffers the good whiskey he’s been saving for a rainy day. Top shelf, according to the man he stole it from. Pearson sweats himself into a frenzy to have a good, hearty meal prepared in time. Ms. Grimshaw has the camp cleared and clean with military precision. Javier settles next to the campfire with a song just waiting to sing off the strings of his guitar with each joyful strum. 

You slink away and pack your gear for a hunting trip.

After a feast like this the camp will need game, and you’ve always found the most success right before weather hits, when the animals are out getting the last bit of sustenance they can before hunkering down in the brush. You clasp Abigail’s hands and congratulate her, trying not to make the words sound like a curse before you fade into firelight shadows. While the others dance and sing, you nurse a bottle that does nothing to dull the ache in your heart.

You’re gone before first light.

—

The grassy plain is wide open and endless before you. Tall grass rises up to the stirrups of your saddle, and thunder rumbles its electric intent in the distance. Overcast clouds promise rain on the breeze as the sky gets darker and darker. It’s a cobalt blue sort of storm, one that paints the grass greyish and strikes your silhouette onto the American frontier for anyone in the distance to see. 

A herd of pronghorn graze the prairie grass. You’ve been tracking them for a few miles now. Downwind. A safe enough distance away that they’re worried more about the oncoming storm than potential predators.

Two does, you think, ought to be enough. 

You’re shit with a bow and arrow, so you rely entirely on being quick on the draw of your hunting rifle. Perks of spending the better part of your life as a gunslinger.

Your horse tenses beneath you as you raise your rifle up, muscles coiled and ready to spring into action. You let out a slow, steady breath. Bang, bang, in quick succession on the trigger has your horse leaping forward. You let his momentum carry you while the rest of the herd scatters in frantic leaps and bounds. 

Two clean shots await your inspection when you crouch to tie the bodies and sling them behind the saddle. Rain begins to fall. The wind carries hoofbeats your way, and you turn with your rifle raised on the off chance some fool hunter is coming to try and steal your quarry. 

 “Ghost, there you are!”

Not a fool hunter, but a fool. 

“John,” you say past the anger and jealousy burrowed deep in your chest. “What are you doing here?”

He shakes his head. “I was gonna ask you the same thing. You left without sayin’ a word.”

“Surprised you noticed,” you scoff. 

“You wanna tell me why you been actin’ so funny lately?”

You fold your arms. “You followed me all the way out here just to tell me I don’t act right?”

“Everyone else is happy,” he says. “Guess I’m just wonderin’ why you ain’t.”

There are a thousand things you could say to that. I’ve been in love with you since before I knew what that warm feeling was in my chest. We were best friends and then you chose a stranger over me, and now that stranger is going to have your baby. Sometimes, when I dream, I dream of us getting old on a farm out West where the law won’t ever touch us. I think of you every time it storms. You say none of it.

The rain falls harder. 

“I know you, John Marston,” is what comes out your mouth instead. “You look more scared than happy to me.”

“I ain’t scared,” he says, snappish and too-fast.

“I am.” The smile on your face is sad, and it stops the defensive snarl trying to form across his face. “Guess that’s why I came out here, away from it all.”

 Lightning strikes in the not-far distance. The flash lights your surroundings in an eerie daytime glow for a heartbeat and a half. The thunder that rolls across the plain not long after makes you feel even smaller than you did already.You pull your coat tighter around your shoulders. 

“I’m camping here tonight. Room in the tent for two if you want.”

It’s even flimsier than your usual peace offerings, but he takes it. On the edge of the prairie you strike the tent while he pickets the horses. The rain is coming down in sheets, now, and you’re both forced to strip to your underthings because your clothes are entirely soaked through. The blankets and bedrolls are damp, but drier than the two of you. As you settle into sleep to the sound of pelting rain against canvass, John’s roll tucked up against yours, you hear a raspy voice speak up.

“You were right,” John says. “I’m scared of— well, all of it. Raisin’ this kid. Disappointing Abigail. But I’m more scared of losing you, Ghost. We’re best friends, ain’t we?”

Your chest constricts. “‘Course we’re best friends. You won’t lose me.”

Then, so quiet you almost miss it, “Haven’t I already?”

The tears that run down your face are silent, and dark as it is you pray he can’t see them. Thunder and rain drown out your shuddering sigh. 

[scatterghosts]

Blue and white (sources under cut)

Snow Art by Simon Beck

Antarctica by David Mantripp

Landscape with Houses by Vincent Van Gogh

Evening Star by Kiki Smith

Moon photography by @thother

Rainy Midnight by Childe Hassam

[blehfundiesims]

Martha's pov: My amazing grandparents got to pay us a visit! Uncle Beck graciously drove them all the way here from Oasis Springs. Granny Ali is the epitome of a watcherly woman and gives me such good advice. she was so so excited to get to see glory again.

It was also a very rainy day today, so we decided to have a wholesome family movie day. Glory was very interested and wanted to be as close to the TV as possible. It was very cute, but we must make sure she doesn't make movies and TV an idol above the watcher.

[wreywrites]

Tiger Shark

Part 6: The Reef

Chapter 33

I am so wildly depressed. I don’t need Katniss’s mother to tell me that. But she does, with reassuring words and a kind smile and simple instructions to do something I enjoy even if it’s for ten minutes a day. I ask her if I can have some paper and a pencil. I want to draw.

That night, when I get back to 405 for the scheduled half-hour of down-time before supper, I find a whole empty notebook and three pencils on my bed. Katniss’s mother is the real hero in District Thirteen.

I don’t know how long we’ve been here.

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

Alvan tells me it has been three weeks since I moved into 405 as we leave the classroom after an hour lecture on nuclear history. I spent it making imaginary doodles, drawing on the desk with my finger. I couldn’t care less about nuclear history even before I lost everything that mattered.

We go down to lunch and sit at our usual spot at the end of the long table. Gloss takes the end, I sit next to him, and Alvan sits across from him. We’ve found it works best to create a buffer between Gloss and everyone else. He’s the least popular person I know of in Thirteen and most people will sit literally anywhere other than next to him.

Today, though, a little boy with that distinct Twelve look sits down next to Alvan across from me. A slightly younger boy sits next to him, and a tiny girl sits next to me. About a minute later, a woman who can only be their mother sits next to the girl, and a young man joins the boys. Him I think I recognize, but in the stupidest possible way.

“You’re Katniss’s cousin. The one they interviewed during her Games.”

He looks confused for half a second, then nods.

“You’re not really her cousin.”

An impressed grin flashes across his face. “I’m not.” Then he leans forward, stretching a hand across the table. “Gale Hawthorne.”

I shake the offered hand. “Annie Cresta.”

“I know,” he says, still friendly. I can tell he doesn’t care about all the stuff that comes with me being Annie Cresta. He just cares that I’m here, and that even crazy Annie could see through the Capitol’s lies about him. Then Gale’s gaze flickers to my side and I glance over to see the little girl staring at me.

“Posy,” the woman says, “We don’t stare.”

Posy ignores her and instead says, with the widest eyes I have ever seen, “Your hair is beautiful.”

I smile. If these little kids aren’t terrified of us, maybe life isn’t so bad. “Thank you.”

One of the boys next to her says, “Is it true you treaded water for eight hours?”

The woman turns to glare at him. “Rory, give the poor girl some peace. The last thing she needs is reminded of that horrible time.”

Rory hangs his head. “I was just wondering. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s alright,” I say. I may as well get used to people asking questions like this. At least they’re talking to me. And sitting with us. And at least kids don’t judge. “I did. It made me really glad I was good at swimming.”

“What’s your favorite kind of fish?” the other boy blurts. “We only had one kind we ever ate in Twelve and it wasn’t very good.”

The woman seems to have given up. “Vick…” she sighs.

Down the table, Gale is chuckling. “Sorry about them. When we came in, I told them who you were and now they have a million questions.”

I smile. “That’s fine.” I lean toward Vick. “They’re not technically a fish, but shrimp are my favorite. Spicy shrimp rolls on a rainy winter day… mmmmmm.”

“What do they taste like?” Rory jumps back in.

I frown. What do shrimp taste like? How do I explain them to this poor kid from Twelve? Shrimp taste like whatever you cook them in, which is usually butter and garlic, at least in my house. “Butter and garlic,” I say.

He’s an octopus, he’ll taste like whatever I cook him in. Beck and Mags are laughing at an indignant Finnick. I laugh with them. The great Finnick Odair, reduced to a terrified quivering mass by an annoyed cephalopod.

“Annie?”

I snap to attention. All three of the kids are staring at me. Wide-eyed, I turn to Alvan.

He gives me a reassuring smile. “It’s okay. We’re here. You’re safe.”

I don’t know what happened and I’m not about to ask, but the sudden silence around the table means it unnerved these poor kids. All they wanted was to learn unimportant little details about me, and instead they got full-sails crazy.

Gale saves us from the impending silence. He leans forward around the boys and says to Alvan, “Alvan, right?”

Alvan nods, leaning back and extending a hand around Rory and Vick. “Pleased to meet ya.”

“You too.” Gale shakes his hand. “Met Dalton yet? He came up here from Ten a few years ago, I guess.”

“Yeah, turns out I used to work for his uncle.”

Alvan and Gale dissolve into some discussion about raising cattle, and Vick and Rory quickly get bored with that and start telling me all about themselves.

“I smashed my finger yesterday!” Vick says.

“Smashed your finger?” I slip into that intense interest that I haven’t used since the last time I saw Cassia Vickers. I start to wonder what is happening to her these days, but force myself to pay attention to the boys across from me.

Vick nods, holding his hand up so I can see the blackened fingernail on his pointer finger. “My class was helping carry supplies from one level to another and I got bumped around and smashed it between the box and the wall.”

“You must be pretty tough,” I say.

He puffs up. “I am.”

“So am I!” Rory says. “I won the wrestling contest for my class last year at school!”

“Did you?”

Rory and Vick spend the next twenty minutes telling me about their various achievements and leaving me little time to respond, which means I can just listen and eat my flavorless soup and handful of grapes and nod or gasp when appropriate.

When our scheduled lunch time is over, we all stand.

“Rory, Vick, Posy, it was nice to meet you.” I give them another smile, then glance at the woman. “And… I’m sorry…” I don’t remember hearing her name, but as reliable as my mind is, it’s hard to tell.

“Hazelle,” she smiles. “I’m Gale’s mom. And these three’s,” she rolls her eyes affectionately.

That makes sense. “It was nice to meet you too, Hazelle.”

She nods. “You too, Annie. You’re always welcome to eat with us, if you can stand it.” Then she extends her smile to Alvan and Gloss. “And you two as well. We know what it’s like to be the outsiders.”

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

Our meal times don’t always match up with the Hawthorne family’s, but when they do, we make sure to sit together. Those kids are amazing, and I tell Hazelle as much one day when they leave before the rest of us to get to class.

“I’m serious. Nobody else will even look at Gloss, and they’re not much better to me and Alvan.”

“I know,” she says, sounding sad. “It’s hard to… Twelve had nothing. It’s hard to look at a Career being mopey and feel bad for him. And Alvan… I know what happened to him, but… he did kill his District counterpart, and that’s hard to overlook in the poor districts. But the kids,” now she smiles, “the kids don’t know that. They just want to hear about life in other places. And now that I know what you’re all like, it's much easier for me too.” Hazelle puts a hand on my shoulder. “I wish you all the best, Annie.”

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

Peeta is on TV, talking to Caesar Flickerman. Peeta is alive. Caesar asks him a question, but all I hear is, “Mags! You wouldn’t lie to us. Do you eat whale in District Four?”

No one has any idea how many victors are still alive, after twelve of them were lined up and shot. The Capitol hasn’t announced any deaths among the others, but maybe they wouldn’t. Or maybe they did and I forgot. Or faded out and didn’t hear. All of those people. My friends. Where are they? What’s happening to them?

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

The next day, we are all called to an assembly in the Collective, a huge room that easily holds the thousands of people who show up. It had to have been built for large gatherings, but since the pox epidemic that Dalton told us about at supper either yesterday or three weeks ago, they can’t have had any need for such a large space. Now that everyone except those with essential jobs are gathered together, I can see how widespread the fallout from the pox is. There are scars everywhere, and the children are few and far between, and most of them slightly disfigured.

Then Coin approaches the podium, calls us to attention, and begins. In the shortest speech I have ever heard, she tells us that Katniss has agreed to be the Mockingjay, provided the victors we lost to the Capitol—Peeta—the crowd is unimpressed by this—Finnick, Johanna, Cecelia, Cashmere—here she starts to lose the crowd to rumbles of dissent—Brutus, and Enobaria—as well as any other victors that are still alive and in the Capitol’s control, will be granted full pardon for any damage they do to the rebel cause.

The crowd’s hostility grows. I can tell exactly where Katniss is standing among them by following the funnel of angry looks.

But Alvan turns to Gloss and me, smiling broadly as he mutters, “Hear that? They’re takin’ care’a y’all.”

Indeed they seem to be. I smile as well. Katniss has demanded Peeta back for herself, but she has also demanded Finnick and Johanna, and Cashmere for Gloss, and Cecelia, and even Brutus and Enobaria, who tried to kill us.

Katniss Everdeen is perhaps not so unfriendly and aloof as the Capitol would have had the rest of the victors believe.

Coin goes on. “But in return for this unprecedented request, Soldier Everdeen has promised to devote herself to our cause. It follows that any deviation from her mission, in either motive or deed, will be viewed as a break in this agreement. The immunity would be terminated and the fate of the victors determined by the law of District Thirteen. As would her own. Thank you.”

Now I hope Katniss is good at listening to instructions and playing the game. Because I’m not losing them again.

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

We are all quiet at supper that night. Even Posy, Vick, and Rory.

Finally, even though I know a discussion of hypotheticals won’t make me feel better, or guarantee Katniss will play nice with Coin, I look at Alvan. “Why didn’t you go after them too?”

“Katniss was never my job.”

I frown. He was in on it though, wasn’t he?

Alvan smiles a little, reaches across the table, and squeezes one of my hands. “You were my job. We knew you’d stick with Finnick, but we knew he might have to chase down Katniss or somethin’, so we needed someone-”

“Someone I’d trust.” I smile back at him. “Thank you.”

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

The next morning, our wrist schedules don’t print the usual nightmare of classes and organized exercise. Instead, it is breakfast, and then Command.

“That’s new.” Gloss frowns at his.

I nod, watching mine print on as well. “You think we did something wrong?”

Alvan shakes his head. “I think Coin remembered she’s got more victors. They’re gonna make us an offer.”

“Or a threat,” Gloss says darkly.

“’N’ what’ll ya do if they do?” Alvan asks as we leave 405 to go to breakfast. “Tell ’em no? With nothin’ to bargain with?”

We eat breakfast in silence. I am digesting what Alvan said, and what he didn’t say, what was left on the fringes. I have less than nothing to bargain with. All I have is things they can use against me.

I’m not Katniss.

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

We enter Command together, after showing both guards the schedules on our wrists, and a third guard checking something on his computer. Apparently after the stunts Gloss and I tried to pull, they’re keeping tighter tabs on us when it comes to what rooms we try to get into.

Inside, sitting around a rectangular table, surrounded by TV screens, are Coin and her bodyguard, whose name I don’t know, Plutarch, and his assistant Fulvia. Coin gives us her best look of neutral displeasure.

Plutarch, however, smiles and gestures for us to sit.

I sit in my usual spot next to Gloss, like I would at meals, only to find Alvan sitting down on my other side.

You were my job.

Alvan apparently takes his jobs very seriously.

I brace for terrible news, for threats against my family and friends, for everything Snow has said and would have said if he’d had one more meeting with me.

What I get is something entirely unexpected.

Coin leans forward, steepling her fingers in front of her chin as she leans her elbows on the table and scrutinizes us. “Will you fight?” she asks.

I blink.

“Fight?”

“What?”

Plutarch jumps in. “We have our Mockingjay. We have…” he takes a deep breath, “Haymitch, who knows how to work with her, and is very smart despite how he sometimes acts. We have Beetee, developing weapons and technology. And we have you three.”

I want to make some joke about how we’re the two they didn’t want and one they wanted the rest of us to kill, but Plutarch goes on.

“You are victors,” he says.

This feels like a trap. Like I just ran out of water tablets and Plutarch is promising me more if only I’ll walk around this blind corner, jump into this murky water, swim into this cave. He is a Gamemaker, after all. I frown.

“Why?” Alvan asks quietly. “Ya got your Mockingjay. Haven’t we fought enough?”

Coin opens her mouth, but Plutarch beats her to it. “We don’t need you to go to the front lines. We just need you to look like you’re fighting. We need your faces and your support.”

“You need us to be your Peeta,” I say, surprising even myself.

Plutarch nods. “If the districts see other victors standing up with Katniss… Well, it could turn the tide.”

“I’m not the moon, Plutarch.”

“Agreed, but everyone loved the Tiger Shark.”

His statement hangs in the air for a while.

I look at the table, thinking. I’m not sure I can trust myself to do anything. It’s not life-or-death anymore, something I have to do to survive, and I don’t have Finnick to keep me grounded.

Finnick.

Like I’ve willed him into existence, I see his name on the table. I frown. Then I realize it is Coin’s speech from last night. The hard copy, laying here on the table in front of us, a promise and a threat, hanging over our heads.

I nod.

“I s’pose,” Alvan says. “Who knows what y’all’ll do to me ’f I don’t.”

“Yeah,” Gloss says.

“Excellent!” Plutarch claps his hands together. “Fulvia, we’ll need those costumes as soon as possible, and we’ll have to get with Beetee for weapons, and-”

Coin is still giving us the neutral look of displeasure.

“What?” Alvan frowns back at her. “Y’ain’t so sure now that ya got us?”

The neutral look of displeasure deepens to a real frown. “You may be victors to the rest of Panem, but here you are citizens like the rest of us. I assure you, I have made no promises to anyone for your safety. It would be unfortunate if I had to arrange for an accident to befall any of you if you were no longer useful.” Then she stands and leaves.

Alvan stares after her. Gloss stares through the table.

My hands are shaking. I’ve heard this before.

It didn’t matter what they threatened her with. It never has. I guess this was the easiest solution.

The door closes.

“I don’t want to be Megary,” I whisper, before I can stop myself.

“Ya won’t.” Alvan grabs my wrist. “Hear me, Annie? No more Megarys.”

Gloss’s head whips around to stare at Plutarch. “I’ve played this game before,” he growls, “and I don’t want to play it again.”

Plutarch watches us for several seconds. Then he nods, very slowly. “Nothing bad will happen to any of you, I give you my word. And I won’t let President Coin threaten any of your people to make you cooperate.”

“I don’t have anyone she can get hold of, Plutarch,” Alvan snaps. “That’s the only reason I’m still fightin’.” Then he stands up and storms toward the door.

I follow, Gloss right behind me.

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

Fulvia tracks us down in minutes and sends us down to Special Weaponry, where four guards verify our identities, and Fulvia’s, in four different ways, before finally letting us through the door.

Beetee, sitting in a wheelchair, meets us inside. “I see you decided to join up,” he says with something close to a smile. He turns his gaze to Fulvia. “Thank you, Fulvia, that will be all.”

Fulvia nods and leaves.

“This way.” Beetee wheels away, off toward a wall with a big work table in front of it. On the table is an assortment of knives, two swords, and two spears. On the wall hangs what I can only call a cornucopia’s worth of weapons.

I catch myself approaching the table, trailing my fingers along one of the copper-colored spears.

“They collapse,” Beetee says. “I wanted them to be as easy to carry as possible, should you need it.” He picks up the spear near the point. “Just twist-” he twists the top eight inches one way, and the rest of it the other way, “-here.” The spear sucks in on itself, shrinking to maybe eighteen inches long, with the point still sharp and ready. It’s still a weapon, but now it’s a shank. Beetee passes me the other spear and lets me collapse it myself, then expand both by twisting them the other way.

I nod. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. I hope the weights are correct.”

I hold one, feeling out the balance. “A little heavy, but I’m a little out of fighting shape.”

Beetee gestures down the room, to a dummy range down the long wall.

“Hm.” I heft the spear in my hand, take a few steps forward in a wind-up, and hurl the spear toward one of the training dummies. The spear sinks into its stomach with a satisfying thump. I smile. At least I won’t be defenseless when Coin tries to make me into Megary.

I throw spears—my own collapsible pair and a half-dozen normal spears Beetee has laying around—while Beetee talks Alvan through the pair of swords and their slight differences and Gloss through his choice of throwing knives, and a nice belt to carry them on.

Before too long, Gloss is next to me at the dummy range, throwing knives with an accuracy that is both terrifying and comforting. I tell myself the dummies are fish. Big swordfish, on the line for hours, on the fight. It’s easier that way.

We only quit when it’s time for supper. My muscles are pleasantly sore. And I have no idea what they want us to do with our new toys that we had to leave locked down in Special Weaponry.

****

****

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

NEXT CHAPTER

Tag List:

@avoxrising @snow-dragon-rider @anakins-ride-or-die

[beck-hartman]

About Beck | A Questionnaire

What is your character’s full name?: Benedict Daniel Hartman

When were they born?: April 9, 1997

What are their parent’s names?: Daniel and Marissa

Do they have any brothers or sisters?: Yes, two older sisters, Olivia (Olives) and Miranda (MJ)

What kind of eyes do they have?: blue

What kind of hair do they have?: blonde, sometimes unkempt, often under a hat

What is their complexion like?: pretty consistently has at least a little bit of a tan because he spends so much time outside

What body type are they?: athletic, toned

What is listening to their voice like?: an instant pick-me-up. from a stranger to his best friend to his sisters, he talks to you like you're the most important person he's got to talk to today

What do they hate most about themselves?: nothing? He's really very confident and doesn't see any reason in criticizing himself

Do they have a favorite quote?: It isn't illegal if you don't get caught? lol jk (kinda) “The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page.” - St. Augustine

What sort of music do they enjoy?: all sorts, he likes a bit of everything. He typically listens to a lot of indie folk honestly, it's sort of a vibe

Have/would they ever cheat(ed) on a partner?: NEVER

Have they been cheated on by a partner?: nope!

Have they ever lost someone close to them?: not to death, but his best friend/girlfriend, Shosh, broke up with him when he was 18 and left town and he didn't see or hear from her in eight years.

What is their favorite sound?: waves on the shore and Shosh's laugh

Are they judgmental of others?: NOPE!!!

Have they ever been drunk?: Oh abso-freakin-lutely

What are they like when they stay up all night?: annoyingly still pretty chipper, just a wee bit sleepier later in the day lol

Have they ever been arrested?: no

What evokes strong memories for them?: ocean waves, the smell of a bonfire, his momma's and sister's cooking, and the Lighthouse

What do they do on rainy days?: whine that he can't be outside, then play video or board games/watch movies with friends/family or go outside anyway

What religion are they?: Christianity

What word do they overuse the most?: sweet! Or bro/man/dude

What do they wear to bed?: boxers usually, sometimes with a t-shirt, most of the time not. Pajama pants and white tee when sleeping on Olives's couch

Do they have any tattoos or piercings?: not yet! He doesn't want a piercing but he is thinking about a tattoo

What type of clothing are they most comfortable in?: baggy tees, sleeveless tanks, cargo shorts, swim trunks/wetsuit.

What is their most disliked food?: broccoli

Do they have any enemies?: ahahhahaa...no. (or not yet, side-eying Shosh's ex-husband)

What does their writing look like?: it can look decent when he tries, but it's often scribbled because he's usually in a rush

What disgusts them?: bullying. He absolutely will not stand for it, never has.

[madewithspice]

Hi! Can I please have a matchup for AOT?

Name- Eiji Age- 18, Height- 5’7” and slim, Gender- demi-boy / non-binary / boy, Pronouns- they / he, Sexuality- the guys, Mbti- INFP

Likes :D

Playing video games (games in general), stickers, dogs/puppies/kittens and other animals, flowers, sweets, long hot showers, cuddling, comfortable silence, feeling protected, sincerity, being wanted/needed, laughing, kisses, hugs (from behind especially omG), listening to music alone (metal/deathcore/pop/punk/alt/rock), giving/receiving gifts, good and smexy pefume/cologne scents, surprises, inside jokes, terms of endearment, pillow forts, assertiveness, sunsets, late night adventures, quiet nights at home, staying up late, good manners, massages, good sense of humour, being competitive, staying inside on rainy days, endless conversations, fun teasing, winning, babysitting/playing with cute kids (it’s my side thing aside from my part-time job haha), decorating and planning for birthdays, making others feel appreciated, amusement/theme/water parks, Halloween, cosplay/costumes, spending time alone.

Dislikes >:O

School/studying (but I do it anyway), deadlines, clinginess, feeling insecure/nervous, being talked over, super crowded places, experiencing gender dysphoria, feeling useless, fake people, awkward silences, arguing, weather that’s too hot, uncleanliness, small talk, being forced to do something I don't wanna do, being forced to spend time with people I don't like, being put under pressure, messes, being around people for too long, getting lost, being late, feeling bored, rejection, spoilers, socks with sandals, swearing too much, having my picture taken, pushovers, toxic masculinity, public speaking, cooking, douchebags, people who are too strict/serious, crying in front of anyone

Other :)

I would say that I’m kind, very empathetic and the type of person that people feel they are able to confide in. You’ll probably see me as quiet before you get to know me, and I am pretty shy to be honest, so it does take a minute for me to open up. But once you get to know me, it's different. Internally, I’m emotional and sensitive but I’m not used to expressing it outwardly, and I think that can cause me to sometimes be mistaken as aloof or unwelcoming from afar. I don’t think I’m very good at hiding my negative feelings around other people– I can be very moody and serious when I’m not mentally well. I just have the most intense and overwhelming emotions EVER, and it’s really difficult, but I just need to feel somewhat understood and given space to deal with the stuff in my head. I tend to have a few close friends, but most of the time I end up sticking with my one fave person. And I don't make friends often, but when I commit to someone, you know it's real and meaningful. You also don't want to get on my bad side. 😀 😑 If I don't like someone, I won't necessarily show It, but I won't exactly make the effort to hide it either. And I don't pretend to like someone if I just don't. Whether I like to get out and do stuff or not depends on the people and everything– but of course I love to have fun! I'm creative and have a lot of ideas for things. Some things I struggle with are: anxiety, feeling insecure, asking for help, perfectionistic tendencies, staying grounded, getting tired/low energy easily, getting side-tracked and getting caught up in my own head. I'm just a silly little ball of intensity and sweetness I guess haha

O and here's a picrew for fun :)

Hi for AOT I match you with Reiner Braun.

Reiner might look super macho and tough but really he’s the biggest softie. When you both meet for the first time, you’re instantly judging him and he’s doing the same to you. It starts off a little rocky but once Reiner starts talking, you start to open up and suddenly the two of you are inseparable. You’re at each other’s beck and call no matter how late it gets. Late night drive? Let’s go. In need of cuddles? Coming right up.

Your first date with Reiner was at an amusement park where Reiner spent a shit ton on one stall because he was determined to win you the giant bear and refused to leave for anything else. Highlight of the night was when you won the round on your first go leaving the giant man stumped and claiming the game was rigged.

Reiner needs someone to lean on occasionally and you need someone to keep you grounded so who more perfect than the simp master. If Reiner ever feels unwell then his first instinct is to call you. He just needs you to come over and be present with him. And when you need Reiner on those bad days, he’s already at your door because he noticed a change in how you text him. He’s very observant like that and it’s what keeps you both grounded together.

- Kiki.