#So I have two tattoos on my calf that I wanted to be part of four segments

[the-cooler-king]

I would like to read berserk again so I can get a tattoo

[persephonesdreams21]

NSFW Alphabet with Lee

A/N: I had to write something for him. This is the character that threw me into my Timmy obsession. Ugh Lee, my tragic handsome baby. I need everyone to write more fics for him kay thanks! Also side note- I try to keep my readers a little ambiguous so that everyone can feel included- but Lee and a chubby! Reader just make sense to me.

Warnings: Not safe for work. Smutty. Talks of Switchy/Bottom Lee. Lee x AFAB!Reader.

After Care(what they're like after sex)

Lee is surprisingly gentle after sex. He’ll grab the towel from the hamper in the corner and clean both of you up with it. You were super embarrassed about it the first time he did it but like. It’s something he enjoys doing, a part of his inner routine. He wants you to open your legs and let him wipe you down. Then a lot of the time he wants you to play with his hair. Needy thing.

“Spread em” Lee drawls as he comes back from the bathroom with a wet rag. You’re still loose limbed and fuzzy brained and it takes a minute for you to realize what he’s saying “Seriously, I’ll clean you up”

“You don't have to, it’s fine” Your messy cum wet thighs clamp shut.

He approaches you slowly, like you’re a skittish animal that might bolt. You’re two seconds away from burying yourself under your thick duvet and hiding from him. Lee sits by your feet and reaches for you. His rough fingers run along your smooth calf.

“But I wanna. If you’ll let me”

Body Part(their fave body part of theirs, and of their partners)

Lee’s too skinny, his words not yours. All ribcage and gangly limbs. If he’d have to pick a favorite, he’d say his hands. They’re capable; he’s got long tattooed fingers and calloused palms from hard manual labor. He can build just about anything with them. He can take care of you with them.

Lee loves your thighs and what's between them. They’re so wide, so plush. You complain about cellulite and ingrown hairs and he’s just like? What? They’re perfect. Let me use them as earmuffs. He wants to be cradled by them forever. Loves your belly too any thing he can dig his fingers into.

Cum(anything to do with it)

Lee is into watching both his cum and your own drip out of your puffy pussy after an intense bout of fucking.

It’s almost routine now, like praying before bed. Like watching the sun rise with your morning cup of coffee warming your hands before work.

The sex with Lee is always good. Always surprising. There’s nothing this man won’t do to you, or let you do to him. It’s an adventure with your best friend, one that ends in you both writhing in pleasure.

With him filling you up.

You and Lee hadn’t been together for long, your six month anniversary’s just on the horizon, but if you know anything about this man. It’s that once he got the green light, he doesn’t finish anywhere but inside of you.

And then. Then he wants to see the damage. He wants to peel your thighs apart and stare right at your puffy, swollen cunt. Ah, his poor baby’s pretty pussy. He’s gentle as his bony fingers probe the tender lips. Spreads them-

There’s your hole. The one he’d just pulled out of, all tiny again now that it’s not stretched around his girth.

He watches hypnotized as milky fluid, both his cum and yours, leaks from inside of you. So much that your body just can’t hold it, no matter how hard you try.

You have your routines. Your prayers. He has his. His religion is right here. In between your legs.

Dirty Secret(self explanatory)

Lee loves anal play. On both you and him. This boy wants to be pegged!

“Have you ever done that?” He asks as he sucks on the end of the joint he’d rolled for the two of you. There’s no judgment in his voice, just curiosity.

The topic is anal. And if you’ve ever had it.

“Yeah” you bite in your bottom lip. “It kinda sucked if I’m being real”

You’d had an ex who’d shoved his prick up your ass and made you cry. He hadn’t even taken the time to properly relax or lube you up. It had kind of traumatized you to be honest. You tell Lee all about it, because you tell Lee about everything these days. There’s no secrets between the two of you.

He frowns, thick brows furrowing “nah, it’s not supposed to be like that. That fucker didn’t treat you right, it’s supposed to feel good”

You shrug “If you say so”

“I do. I love the way it feels whenever anyone does it to me” Lee says it so casually, but keeps an eye on you, gauging your reaction.

“Really?”

“Really” it’s factual, punctuated with a little nod “I’d let you try it. If you want. We can like- do me first and then I could show you how anals actually supposed to feel”

Your pulse picks up with excitement. You can feel it in your pussy, and you know the way you squeeze your thighs together to get any kind of friction isn’t discreet.

Lee pretends not to see but his smile is hungry.

“Okay, yes. I want to try”

Experience(how experienced are they? Do they know what they're doing?)

Um. He’s so experienced. With both men and women. Lee’s done alot in his young age. Had to, to survive a lot of the time.

When he realized you didn’t judge him for his past, that's when he really started to feel the emotional attachment form.

“You’re not a bad person for what you’ve done, Lee. Everyone’s done shit they’re not super proud of…it doesn’t take away from who you actually wanna be”

Favorite Position(this goes without saying)

He doesn't really care. But he’s partial to you riding him. He loves feeling pinned underneath you and watching you bounce on top of him.

Goofy(are they more serious in the moment? Are they goofy?

Lee’s a fucking goofball. He’s making you giggle. He’s choking on laughter as you choke on his cock. He can be serious, for sure. But a lot of the time the two of you are very playful with one and other.

Hair(how well groomed they are)

Lee never really cared before you, but he gives himself a courtesy trim now. Still a pretty thick dark bush. You kind of love it. You also do not play about personal hygiene- showers Lee. You’ve got to take them. You know there was a point in his life when he didn’t have access to them. Had to bathe in rivers and McDonald’s bathrooms- but that’s not the case anymore.

He tried to pretend he doesn’t like your expensive skin creams you share with him but you’ve got him hooked.

Intimacy(how they are during the moment? The romantic aspect)

Lee has had a lot of sex with a lot of people, but it’s never felt like this. He's addicted to you. He wants to be close to you, inside of you, like 24/7. He really cant believe he gets to be with you and alot of the time when he’s fucking you he’s just staring at you. In awe.

Jack Off(masturbation headcanon)

Lee’s always got a hand down his pants lol. He loves to masturbate. He loves when you watch him stroke his cock. He wants to watch you play with yourself too. It’s a whole thing.

Kink(one or more of their kinks)

Peg him. Also- mommy kink. Yes. Lowkey might have a thing for breastfeeding/titsucking. He just thinks your’re the most luscious woman he’s ever met…and yeah he does lowkey have mommy issues.

Location(favorite places to do the do?)

After fucking and being fucked on the side of the road or in dirty bathroom stalls, he really just loves having sex in the safety of your apartment. In your big cozy bed or the comfortable couch.

He also likes it when the two of you go camping or stargazing and he can fuck you under the night sky, with only the stars at witnesses.

Motivation(what turns them on? Get’s them going?)

You and that teasing little smile you give him. The one where your canines look like fangs. The one that's usually followed by coy barely there touches and feather light kisses. Yeah. All it takes is a smile.

No(something they wouldn't do? Turns off’s)

He doesn't want to hurt you. He’s hurt so many people before. He can't do anything past mild choking and spanking. He WON'T.

Oral(preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc?)

He loves it. Both giving and receiving. But he just feels so good when hes between your thighs. He’s your pretty boy when he’s sucking on your clit. PLEASE sit on his face.

Pace(are they fast and rough, slow and sensual?)

Lee wasn't used to someone wanting to take their time with him. It almost made him uncomfortable the first time that you slowly ran your hands over his body. Cherishing him. Savoring the closeness to him. Kissing every inch of his skin, not caring about scars or cheap tattoos. It makes him feel flayed alive. He learns to love slow paced, agonizingly tender sex.

Quickie(their opinions on quickies, how often?)

Hell yeah.

Like he gets home from a long day at his shitty grueling job he just wants to quickly fuck your brains out, and then watch one of your shared TV shows before bed.

Or when you’re getting ready for a nice dinner out with your friends, and your makeups done. And your hair is all bouncy and you smell good enough to make his mouth water.

Or in the car before an aquarium date. Lee will take what he can get when ever he can get it when it comes to you.

Risk(are they game to experiment? Do they take risks?)

Loves taking risks in the bedroom. Honestly once the two of you have built that trust between each other, there’s not much you won’t do. Lee’s a Sub leaning Switch(in my humble opinion) and will literally lay back and let you have your way with him. He doesn’t care. There’s no shame in his sex game.

Stamina(how many rounds can they go? How long can they last?)

He can fuck. Over and over. He’s like a rabbit.

Toys(do they own toys? Will they use them?)

Lee’s game. But then again he’s game for pretty much anything. He likes making you writhe on your vibrator, overstimulating you until you're sobbing. Have you made him wear one of your butt plugs to dinner? Yes you have lol

Trips to Sex Shops are frequent, fun affairs.

Unfair(how much they like to tease)

Lee’s a fucking TEASE. He's just too good at playing the game of cat & mouse.

Volume(how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc)

Lee is sooo vocal and you adore it. You’ve never been with a vocal man and he’s such a whiner. He’ll whine and grunt and beg. He’ll dirty talk you to the ends of the earth. He’ll call you Mommy, Pretty Girl, Sweet Heart. Babe. Sexy. It all makes your head spin.

Wild Card(a random headcanon for the character)

Lee wants you to fuck him. Wants you to hold him in your arms and play with his rim. Prostate massages are “awesome babe. Here. Let me show you how to do it”

X-Ray(let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Big thick cock on that twiggy man. A healthy 7 1/2 inches and girthy. The first time you see it your eyes nearly bulge out of your head. You guess its true what they say about skinny tall boys.

Yearning(how high is their sex drive?)

Lee’s a very sexual creature. Like in a primal way. Every interaction can be erotic with him and its honestly a little bit overwhelming to be around.

Zzz(how quickly they fall asleep after)

Lee has his little routine after sex. Cleans the both of you up, half assed sometimes, and then he’s out like a light. No seriously. Lee has been homeless more than a few times in his life(I was exploring. It was by choice! he’d protest when you pointed it out) he’s slept under bridges and in tents and surfed lumpy couches. You and your warm pussy and your lush bed knock him out.

[puddle-nerd]

His Paysyul, His Skxawng

Summary: Miscommunications when attempting to start courting… well, at least Tonowari is so good natured about it.

Prompt #12 for my submission for #𝐂𝐫𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐞𝐬𝟏𝟒𝐃𝐎𝐋𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

Story Tags: No use of Y/N, Female Reader, Human Reader, Metkayina | Reef People Clan, Na’vi, Na’vi Culture, Na’vi Language, Na’vi & Human Interactions, Miscommunication, Not Actually Unrequited Love

Na’vi Translation: Muntxatu – spouse | gender neutral Oeyä – my (possessive) Paysyul – water lily | inrigo lilliam Skxawng – moron | idiot Tawtute – human | Sky Person

AO3 Link

You hadn’t realized what Tonowari was doing at first since you and all of the other humans in the class you had taken back on Earth weren’t as informed on the details of Metkayinan courting. Or the Omatikayan courting either. But you and your fellow scientists were learning to adapt to the Sea People’s way of life so the Forest People were more of an afterthought most of the time, though they had more coverage on the news feeds back on Earth since they had more invested in that part of the moon.

But that was beside the point…

The point was… that no one had told you about the finer details of the courting rituals of the Metkayina People at the human compound built a thousand meters away from the village of Awa’atlu. You had started to just assume the young Na’vi male liked your company, wanted you to learn the intricacies of his ways to appreciate his way of life better, and he also wanted to introduce you to all the different kinds of foods his People made. You didn’t realize this was actually his way of courting you until he ventured to the human compound and finally saw you out of your Avatar form, in your natural human state – it had taken a minute or two or closer to fifteen to convince him it was really you, but he had come around, and you had introduced him to the wonders of chocolate chip cookies.

From past experience with the Omatikayan, the Na’vi could consume chocolate in small doses before having a negative reaction (upset stomach, nausea, etc.) so you gave him two human sized cookies, hoping it wasn’t too much for him.

His blue eyes had lit up as soon as the sweet confection had touched his tongue and the turquoise skinned male had released a sinful moan. You gulped, eyes riveted to him as he savored the treat before turning his freshly tattooed face your way, saying, “I had hoped you would return my courting gestures eventually. This is a superb gift. May I have more, please, paysyul?”

You blinked.

Your mind whirled, trying to make sense of his words.

Then you blinked again.

“Courting?” You squawked, mouth hanging open as you demanded more information. “Wh – I… I don’t… Wari, I don’t understand.”

Tomowari’s face fell the second your words left your lips. “Do tawtutes do it differently?” He asked softly, tentatively, the hurt at your perceived rejection clear in his tone and the way his broad shoulders slumped away from you like you might see upon a wounded canine puppy or ilu calf. “Do tawtutes not exchange gifts of food and tokens and other things and spend as much time with you can with the one you hope to perhaps one day take as a muntxatu?”

Your eyes widened further.

A spouse?!

Looking up at Tonowari now, leaning your head back as far as it could go and straining your neck to meet his downcast blue gaze, you took in the young Na’vi male with a discerning eye and realized you wanted this. Not just because he was very, very handsome to you and something very delicious to look at with all those hardened muscles and that attractive face of his, but also because he treated you better than any male human ever had. Tonowari treated you with the respect he treated everyone with – well, almost, but that was a different story. He actually listened to you whenever you spoke. He answered questions that might have been considered stupid if you had asked another human as you tried to learn the intricacies of his culture. He comforted you when your emotions took a downward turn. He praised you for your successes without taking the credit. He never made you feel worthless. You felt… really and truly SEEN for the first time in your life. “I… uh… I mean, yeah, of course we do, Wari,” you finally assured him after an awkward pause, reaching out tentatively and touching the back of his nearest wrist to you, your hand appearing so strange and so little upon his beautifully striped fin-like arm, a shiver racing down your spine. “But usually, we try to make sure we're on the same page, too. Like, with verbal communication to confirm we’re… courting.” It was his turn to blink as he tried to make sense of your words. You summed it down for him so he could understand it better. “I didn’t realize, I didn’t understand what these gestures meant… that you were actively courting me. I also didn’t know you were waiting for me to offer you food in return. Or other gifts to reveal my affection because… I assumed you were just being nice as you are to Kora or to Tsya or to Ronal.” Listing off three of the females who you knew had interest in him for one reason or another made you want to wince because they would have reveled in his offerings because they understood their meaning, leaving you feeling slow and stupid. You shook your head, adding, “If I had known… I'm sorry, Wari. I wouldn’t have made you wait. But clearly, we need to talk about things a little more so we can understand each other and each other’s ways a little better. And hey, now Ronal’s not entirely wrong when she calls me a skxawng. But at least I’m your skxawng?” Tonowari snorted, though you could see the relief in his blue eyes that you returned his feels and he reached for your much smaller body, scooping you up into his arms. “Yes, paysyul… You are oeyä skxawng,” he agreed softly and leaned his face down, rubbing his cheek against yours and purring quietly in contentment.

𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸

Originally Posted: 12 February 2024 Word Count: 963

@crybabies-heart, @cryingwhilereading, @ikeyniofthetayrangi, @erenjaegerwifee, @bambithewriter, @lloreya

AO3 Link

[roosterforme]

A Love You Don't Find Everyday Part 25 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Leaving Hawaii and returning to work ended up being a lot harder than you anticipated. When Bradley told you he wanted to stay in the honeymoon phase with you forever, you decided to make that your new goal. 

Warnings: Fluff, angst, smut, and swearing

Length: 5000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

"It's our last day in Hawaii. If we want to eat ice cream for dinner, then we're eating ice cream for dinner." You closed the room service menu and dared Bradley to disagree with you. 

"You're so smart. No sense in arguing with the best idea you've ever had," he told you, taking the menu from your hand and reaching for the phone. You watched him with a smug gaze as he ordered two large ice cream sundaes and a bucket of ice. 

"We have one bottle of pink champagne left," you told him, pulling him back onto the bed. 

"That's what the ice bucket is for. I thought we could finish our ice cream dinner, maybe take a little walk on the beach, and then come back here for the champagne."

Your little moans were so pretty, Bradley ended up on top of you, trying to coax all the sounds out of you. And then the knock on the door a few minutes later, right when he was about to put his dick inside you, had him growling. 

But you were all smiles. "Let's have some ice cream and then pick it up right there," you said, running your hand along his hard cock as it hung out of the front of his shorts. You climbed out of bed, grabbed one of his favorite Hawaiian print shirts and buttoned exactly one button before strolling to the door with a bare ass and pussy.

He heard you thank whomever probably got an eyeful of you before you returned with a cart of ice cream and a silver ice bucket. "Dinnertime," you told him, carrying two huge bowls outside to the back deck. 

"Come over here," he coaxed, heading toward the deck railing where there was a nice view of the water. "We can watch the sunset with the partition open."

You set both bowls on the railing and took a bite of vanilla ice cream, hot fudge and some whipped cream. "It's so good," you told him, taking a bigger bite while he dug into his as well. 

"Why don't we ever eat ice cream for dinner at home?" he asked, scooping some whipped cream onto his finger and holding it out for you. Bradley watched as you parted your lips for him and sucked his finger clean. 

"Because we would end up naked, covered in ice cream every single time," you replied, and then your eyes lit up. You peeled Bradley's tee shirt up over his abs, and he smirked as you yanked it all the way off. "No harm in doing that here though," you whispered, dipping your finger into some chocolate sauce and feeding it to Bradley before you kissed him.

Then your chocolatey fingers found their way into his chest hair, and soon you were licking and sucking on him until he was once again rock hard for you. Each dip of your spoon into your rapidly melting ice cream ended with your tongue licking the cold mess from his body. You paid special attention to his tattoo, rubbing your lips and tongue along his bicep.

"My turn," he growled, pinning you back against the railing and enjoying the view of your barely concealed tits inside his shirt. "So pretty," he told you, kissing the valley between your breasts as you bit your lip. Then he spread some whipped cream with his thumb. "Even prettier," he added, and your giggle was only silenced when he shoved his thumb between your lips and you carefully licked him clean. 

"Do it again," you told him, tipping your head back and rubbing his calf with your bare foot. Bradley covered your neck with chocolate sauce and ice cream, enjoying the sweet flavor mixed with the taste of you. "That feels so good," you hissed as his lips and tongue soothed away the cold from the ice cream. 

Soon you were whining loudly for him, and nearly all of the ice cream was gone. "What about right here?" he asked, pressing his lips just below your ear while teasing your clit with his fingers. "I wonder how sweet you'd taste with some ice cream?"

You bucked against his fingers and said, "Let's find out." Bradley watched you scrape the last of the ice cream onto one of the spoons and feed it to him as he knelt in front of you. He licked the spoon clean, keeping the ice cream on his tongue, and then he licked your slit all the way up to your clit.

The nonsensical babbling was almost enough to make Bradley laugh as you gasped, "Cold! Oh, god, Roo, the stubble." He licked away the ice cream and ate your pussy until you were getting loud. "Fuck me!" you told him. "Fuck me, now!"

He was back on his feet, ready to do anything you wanted, and then you turned your back to him. Bradley watched as you yanked his shirt up above your ass and started to grind back against his cock. "You want it bad, don't you?" he whispered, undoing his shorts with one hand. "You're filthy. In every way."

"I need it," you whined, and Bradley kissed along the sticky remains of chocolate sauce on your necklace chain while he reached around your waist and teased your clit.

"My filthy wife," he grunted, palming his cock and pressing his front to your back to get you to bend a little more for him. "Get ready for me."

You just bounced your gorgeous ass back against him until he was sliding inside you. And then your neck lulled to the side as he fucked you slow and steady. "I'm always gonna give you what you want. Take care of every single thing, Baby Girl. Fuck you just the way you like."

Bradley placed his palm against your clit, and with each thrust, he let you rub yourself there. You had your hands braced on the deck railing as you shivered. He could feel you squeezing around him already. "You're close?" he asked. 

"Yeah," you whispered. "I'm already close. You feel so good."

So he eased his hand up to your belly, stroking your skin with his fingertips and thinking about getting you pregnant. And then he was afraid he was getting close, too.

"Bradley!" you whined. "Go a little harder!"

Bradley did as he was told, and then he heard something hit the stone walkway on the other side of the open partition while you whined for him. 

And Bradley locked eyes with one of the gardeners. He was wearing a resort staff shirt, frozen in place, watching you get fucked up against the railing.

"Roo, hit me harder with that big dick!" Bradley started to positively rail you, making you get even louder for him. Like he was trying to prove some depraved point to this man who seemed to be unable to look away. 

"So good!" you chanted, your tits straining against that single button as you let him go as hard as he could.

"Baby Girl." He kissed along your neck, releasing your right hip to guide your chin gently until you were looking toward the walkway as well. "We've got company."

"Oh!" you gasped. Bradley watched your shocked expression change to one of desire as you looked from the other man back over your shoulder to Bradley as he gripped you by your hips and went hard and fast. "That's really hot."

Bradley grunted, outrageously turned on right now as you glanced between the two men until you were cumming with your back arched. Bradley rammed his cock deep and held himself there, rubbing furious fingers along your clit until you were nearly screeching. 

And then the other man finally picked up his pruning shears and literally ran back into the foliage. You were slumped over the railing as Bradley fucked his cum into you until he couldn't even move. 

"He was watching us," you whispered. "Oh my god, Roo."

"What do you want me to do about it?" he asked, ready to chase after him if that's what you told him to do.

"Do about it?" you repeated. "Nothing. Well, I guess you can bring it up on occasion if you really want to wind me up."

He started laughing and gently pulled his cock from inside you. As his cum dripped softly onto the deck, you smiled at him. 

"Yeah, Sweetheart. I can do that." Then he collected you in his arms and held you so your chest was against his. "I can remind you about the time that guy watched us fucking, and then no doubt went home to jerk off while imagining that he was the one in my position. That he was the one railing your pretty pussy."

Your mouth was all over his as you rubbed yourself against him, and if that scenario made you this hot, he would have no problem reminding you about it.

----------------------------

You and Bradley took another shower outside, and you laughed as he cleaned up the last bits of sticky ice cream from your skin.

"Do you think that guy saw my boobs?" you asked, and Bradley laughed too. 

"I hope not," he told you, meeting your eyes before kissing your forehead. "I trust my shirts, Baby Girl. That one had you in its protection. That button never failed you."

You laughed as you ran your soapy fingers along his shoulders. "I've never had anything like that happen before."

"Mile High Club. Involuntary exhibitionists. I think I put my thumb in your butt when we were drunk the other night?"

"You did," you confirmed, kissing his chin. And you hadn't been opposed to it one bit.

"Damn. This has been one hell of a honeymoon. I hate that we fly home tomorrow."

"Honeymoon sex just hits different," you told him as he rinsed your body off.

"Did you forget, Sweetheart? We live in the honeymoon phase now."

And it was on that note that you took Bradley to bed with the bottle of pink champagne and snuggled up in his arms. You passed the bottle back and forth and complained a little bit about returning home and going back to work.

"Do you know how infrequently I've had to think about Hangman or work?" Bradley groaned.

"Don't you miss Nat?" you asked with a laugh. "Don't you miss flying?"

Bradley was quiet for a beat. "I really miss Tramp. And I miss it when you cook dinner. And I want to see our wedding photos." 

"You're a very sweet man," you told him, setting the empty bottle on the nightstand. He pulled you down on top of him with his big hands on your hips. "I loved it here, but I'm ready to go home and settle into our new routine together."

"New routine? I don't think much is going to change," he whispered. 

You kissed him and rubbed your face along his stubble. "I guess you're right, Roo. It's just that everything feels brand new and exciting. And I never knew I could be this happy."

Bradley held you against him as he started to fall asleep. "I'll keep trying to make you happier and happier. It's my mission."

You dozed off as well, hoping your period wouldn't show up in a few days.

-----------------------------

"Five hundred dollars!" you gasped, reading the hotel receipt on the flight home. 

Bradley kept trying to take it away from you, but your grip on the paper was impressive. "It doesn't matter," he mumbled, just wanting you to relax next to him and maybe take a nap. "You're making the next mortgage payment, remember?"

But you held up the receipt and pointed out the charge to him. "But the price for the pink champagne is outlandish! That's a hundred bucks per bottle!"

Bradley tore the paper out of your hand and crumpled it up. "It's worth it, because you wanted it. And it made us happy. And I loved drinking it with you." 

You crossed your arms over your chest, and Bradley just waited for you to say something before he spoke again. "I'm making the mortgage payments for the even months. You're paying the mortgage for the odd months."

Bradley groaned softly and kissed you. "I wish you would stop getting me to agree to things while you're sucking my dick," he whispered. "It's not fair."

"Splitting the bills in half is fair. And opening a shared account is fair.

"You're right. It is fair. We picked out the house together, and it's ours, and we are married now."

You eyed him warily. "You're being agreeable."

Bradley sighed. "If contributing more to our bills will make you happy, then go right ahead, Sweetheart. Now take a nap with me."

You curled up next to him in your first class window seat and fell asleep while he rubbed your back. He was more concerned about saving money for babies and college right now, and he knew that it was going to take your income and his to cover everything. 

You were still sleeping when the plane touched down, and Bradley turned his phone on to text Jake. "Are we home?" you asked, rubbing your eyes and knocking your glasses askew. "Can we go pick Tramp up tonight?"

Bradley kissed your forehead. "It's kind of late, Baby Girl. I don't mind bugging Jake right now, but Amelia has school tomorrow. What if I text Mav and pick Tramp up early tomorrow morning before work?"

"Okay," you agreed, stretching your arms over your head. "I don't even want to go back to work tomorrow," you mumbled, looking out the window at all the runway lights blinking in the darkness. "I just want to stay in bed with you all day."

Bradley reached for your left hand and kissed your ring finger. "We can eat lunch together tomorrow? Unless I'm in the air. Maybe a quickie in your office?" he suggested with a smile, and you grinned at him over your shoulder.

"Doubtful, Roo. I have that new hire starting, so I'll probably be with her the entire day."

He just grunted. "We can make up for it tomorrow night. After work."

Once Bradley had deplaned with your fingers laced through his, he took you to collect your suitcase full of all the lingerie you wore for him. He managed to acquire another PRIORITY tag for it in Honolulu, which you were apparently still laughing about now as he collected it from the carousel. 

"What?" he asked innocently. "If this didn't make it home, I'd be in tears." He grabbed the other two pieces of luggage and followed you and the lingerie suitcase out to the curb.

"Me too," you whispered, kissing his cheek as Jake pulled up. "There are a few things in here I didn't even get to wear for you yet."

"Are you serious?" Bradley asked, wondering if it was too late tonight to get you to wear one before bedtime.

But you were already wrapped up in Jake's arms, telling him how pretty the resort was and how much fun you'd had. 

"Nice tan, Rooster," Jake commented as Bradley loaded the luggage into the back. "Angel looks exhausted, so you must have done a good job."

Bradley snorted while you smacked Jake's chest, hard. But all three of you were laughing. "If anything, I wore him out."

Jake groaned. "I don't need to know any details."

--------------------------

You had been whining so much about work, that now you were amping it up on purpose. "But nobody will let me wear a bathing suit or drink champagne at work," you groaned as you climbed out of the shower with Bradley behind you. It was late, and you really needed to get to bed. You should have taken another day off between the honeymoon and returning to work.

"It's really a sin," he agreed solemnly. "Good thing you look just as good in khaki as you do in a tiny scrap of red fabric."

You bit your lip as Bradley put toothpaste on his toothbrush. "And nobody will be there to watch us eat ice cream and fuck," you moaned.

His eyes met yours in the mirror. "I'm pretty sure that was a once in a lifetime development, Baby Girl."

You shrugged and said, "I didn't hate it," before you brushed your own teeth.

Bradley carried you to the bedroom. "Your sex in public kink has started to run rampant. Will I even be able to get you going in a bed anymore?"

You kissed him as he pulled out his UVA tee shirt for you to wear. "You could get me going anywhere, Roo."

He eyed you up and down and sighed. "But not tonight. It's midnight, and I have to get Tramp at seven."

"Not tonight," you agreed, and you curled up on his chest and fell asleep. 

You were jolted awake by Bradley's alarm going off at six. You rolled away from him and tried to hide under your pillow. But the room was starting to get lighter, and he was so loud when he got ready for work, you just gave up. "Do you want breakfast?" you asked him, shuffling into the kitchen to make eggs and coffee. You groaned; you just spent ten days eating room service and having expensive lattes in the restaurants at the resort. "This is bullshit," you muttered, messing with your French press and looking inside the nearly empty refrigerator. 

A minute later, Bradley was dumping cereal into his mouth while you ate the last egg, and he filled a travel mug with coffee. "I'll go get Tramp and bring him right back here, then I'm heading to base." He leaned in and kissed you. "In case I don't see you before you leave, I love you."

"Bye. Love you, too," you grunted, waving at him as he rushed out the door. You sipped your coffee in silence and looked at your work calendar on your phone. After about ten seconds, it felt too overwhelming, so you switched over to your personal calendar. And that's when you noticed that little asterisk on today's date. 

You took a few small steps back toward your bedroom before setting down your mug and rushing into the ensuite bathroom. You dug around under the sink, pretty sure you would find what you were looking for. And when your hand closed around the sealed box, you felt a little dizzy. 

Carefully, you stood up and opened the pregnancy test you never used back in July. You were being ridiculous. You knew you were. It had barely been one full cycle since you stopped taking birth control, and these things took time. But you went ahead and took the test anyway. You walked back out to the kitchen and tried to decide if you felt like you had period symptoms or not while you counted down the minutes until you could check the test. 

When you imagined how excited Bradley would be when he brought Tramp home and you showed him a positive test, you couldn't stop smiling. He would lose his mind. You'd both be late for work. You would have to find something to celebrate with other than champagne. 

Cautiously, you made your way back into the bathroom. The hopeful feeling in your chest was bubbling to the surface, and you nearly giggled until you saw the result. Negative. Not pregnant. You swallowed hard. It was still early. You could test again tomorrow. You dumped the box and the test into the trash.

But now you felt like crying, and you had to fight the urge to climb back into bed. Tears stung your eyes, and you took your glasses off, realizing you were only making things worse by rubbing them. But when you heard the front door open followed by the sound of Tramp's paws on the kitchen floor, you hiccupped with a sob. 

"I'm leaving again!" Bradley called out, and you thought you were safe in the bathroom by yourself. 

"Okay," you called lamely as Tramp came in to find you. But Bradley was there as well with a smile on his face.

"What's wrong?" he asked when he really looked at you, collecting you into his arms immediately. 

"Nothing," you promised, trying your best to look happier. "Just kind of dreading the rest of the day and the million emails waiting for me."

He looked at you a little skeptically, but nodded slowly. "You'll text me if you need something today? I can always try to stop by your building."

"Mmhmm," you hummed, and he kissed your forehead. "I need to get dressed. I'll see you later." Bradley let his hand linger on yours as you pulled away from him and headed for the bedroom closet. 

"I love you, Baby Girl," he told you, and now he was finally really leaving. 

And then you did cry. Because you were being ridiculous, and your pants felt too tight because you'd spent a week eating ice cream and drinking cocktails. It took you until you parked your car on base to realize that you were probably so emotional because it was the start of your period, and that made you want to cry more. "Get it together," you mumbled, scanning your badge to get inside the building. 

With a deep breath, you unlocked your office door and collected your computer before heading to the lab. As soon as you walked in, your boss eyed you carefully. "How was your time off, Lieutenant?" Bickle asked, and you held up your left hand for him to see. "Ah, I figured. Congratulations."

"Thank you, sir," you told him with a laugh. And then you turned to see Cat Coleman sitting in your favorite chair at your favorite spot on the counter, examining a piece of equipment that you had been working on before you got married last month. And when she turned to face you with her appraising gaze, you felt like crying all over again.

"Welcome to the team," you managed to say as you set your computer down. 

"Thank you," she said with a completely neutral tone. "I'm looking forward to getting started."

And then your boss called a team meeting, and you had to sit in one of the chairs that sucked. You just wanted to be back in Hawaii with Bradley. It had been beyond perfect. Just you and your husband who understood you and made you feel comfortable. What the hell was wrong with you?

You tried to pay attention to everything you had missed while you were away. And then you got Cat set up with some things to read and a few videos to watch, and you felt a little better knowing that Bickle trusted you to do so much for him at this point. But Cat was barely showing you any emotion, even when you tried to joke with her. And the negative pregnancy test was never far from your mind. 

"Angel!"

You turned to see Jake standing in the doorway holding a sandwich and a fruit cup, and you ran for him, wrapping your arms around his waist. You let your cheek rest on his chest while you took a deep breath.

"I'm having a horrible day," you whispered, and he rubbed his empty hand on your back as he stepped inside the room with you still hugging him. 

He chuckled as you let go of him. "I'm sure you are. You were just in Hawaii with your husband. Now you're at work. Rooster sent me with this, by the way. Mav is riding his ass today." He held up the food, and you took it knowing you needed to eat something today, regardless of the fact that your appetite was nonexistent. 

"Please give him my regards," you said, making Jake laugh harder as he turned toward Cat. You saw him pause, and then she looked up at him with her appraising eyes. 

"Jake, this is Cat Coleman. Cat, meet Jake Seresin." You opened the sandwich and took a bite as you watched Jake fumble through a handshake. You could tell he thought she was pretty; you already knew he would. 

"Pleasure," Cat replied before sitting down to read on her computer, and you had to guide Jake out to the hallway.

"Damn," he whispered. "She's new? She must be. I'd remember seeing her around."

"Fresh out of Maryland," you told him, thinking that had at one time applied to you as well. "She's a little tough to get to know, honestly. She's making my day a little more difficult."

"What did she do? Steal your chair or something dumb like that?" You gaped at him and shoved him toward the exit. 

"Don't you have something more important to do? Like waste taxpayer money on jet fuel surcharges?"

"Sure do, Angel. Catch you later."

You took another bite of your sandwich and went back into the lab, and Cat met your eyes. "I heard you just got married. Congratulations."

"Thanks," you replied with a small smile. "Just got back home from Hawaii yesterday."

"Your husband is in the Navy as well."

"Yeah, he's an aviator," you told her between bites. 

She nodded, her eyes shifting past you to the door before she turned toward her computer. "Well, he's handsome, and he seems very kind. That must be nice for you."

You paused for a moment, and then you inhaled while you laughed, and you started coughing. "No," you finally managed as she looked at you like perhaps she needed to intervene and help you breathe correctly. "That wasn't my husband!"

"Oh," she replied, looking a little embarrassed. 

"He's my friend!" you replied quickly. "He works with Bradley. My actual husband. And you're right, Jake is handsome and kind."

And then she turned away from you again.

---------------------

You and Bradley had only been home for a few days, and your mood had been all over the place. He thought that perhaps it was because you were adjusting to your work schedule once more, but even Jake seemed to notice you weren't quite yourself. At times it looked like you were on the verge of tears. And at one point you were very short with your parents on the phone. Other times you were extra physically affectionate with Bradley. 

But tonight, after dinner, when he asked if you wanted to join him in the bathtub with a few beers, you just shook your head. "My period started today, and I'm not feeling great. Raincheck?"

"Of course. Anything you want."

And instead he ended up sitting on the living room floor with you, adding your wedding photos to the collage that hung above the piano. Each picture had turned out better than Bradley could have imagined. You were radiant in every single photo. You were smiling so much that it felt like someone was stepping on his chest when he realized you looked like that for him. You looked so perfect in every picture because that was the day you married Bradley. 

He pulled you onto his lap and held you tight to him and whispered against your ear. "I wish I could go back to our wedding day and experience it all over again."

You laughed softly. "That's sweet, Roo."

"I'm serious," he replied, kissing your ear and your hair. "I've never seen anything like you. I've never loved anyone like this. And you were so perfect that day, I can barely look at these photos without feeling like I'm going to fucking explode or something."

You pulled away from him, grinning and shaking your head. "I love you. You're the best husband I've ever had."

Bradley groaned as you laughed and peppered his face with kisses. Then you helped him rehang the frame. When you yawned for the third time in a row, Bradley scooped you up and carried you to the bedroom with Tramp at his heels. "You need to get a good night's sleep. You've been busy at work, and you have your period. Do you want your heating pad?" he asked, and when you nodded with a small frown, he tucked you into bed with a kiss. "Be right back."

He went to the bathroom closet to find it for you, and that's when his eyes caught on the boxes in the trash can. Mission forgotten, Bradley knelt down and pulled out two pregnancy tests, along with their boxes, and some tampon wrappers. He sank all the way to the floor, staring off into space as he connected the dots. You had taken pregnancy tests. You got your period. You'd had tears in your eyes when Bradley said the neighbors had cute grandkids. You had been sometimes clingy and sometimes distant with him over the past couple days. 

So you thought you could have been pregnant. But these were negative pregnancy tests. And you hadn't told him about it. You hadn't told him anything. You'd been on the verge of tears for a reason, and you kept him in the dark. 

Bradley put the tests back in the trash can and jumped to his feet. Maybe you needed a reminder that you never had to feel isolated now. He was your husband. But when he was about to call your name, he found you sound asleep, your glasses crooked on your face. 

He sighed and planted his hands on his hips and really looked at you. There was nothing you could do that would disappoint him. And the two of you had time. He kissed your forehead and gently removed your glasses, folding them up on your nightstand. 

Then he got undressed and slipped into bed behind you. His perfect wife.

------------------------

I am emotional! The end of another Roo and Baby Girl series! Thanks for reading this far, and please stay tuned for some one-shots and hopefully more B&BG after that! I'll update my masterlist soon! Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls. And I'm also including this beautiful mood board that @thedroneranger made for this fic! Thank you, Jay!

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@swthxrry

@chassy21

@yaboid19

@solacestyles

@avoirlecoupdefoudre

@daisyhollyxox

@callsigndiamond

@harper1666

@throwinsauce

@beebslebobs

@awesomebooklover17

@wintercap89

@whosyourgnomie4

@rosesinmars

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@wishfulwithwine

@backinwonderl4nd

@monte-carlando

@tetragonia

@gingerbreadandpaper

@emptyloverofmine

@apparently-sunshine

@chaoticassidy

@missmirandafe

@topgunbb

@changlingkhat

@sugarcoated-lame

@callsign-jupiter

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@andycanbeemotional

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@tallyovie

@shanimallina87

@starlightstories

@teddyluvs2sing

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@lilyevanswhore

@o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o

@hecate-steps-on-me

@xoxabs88xox

[chixkencxrry]

mi tigre

Summary: A quiet weekend for Miguel and his lady. (Miguel O'hara x Fem! Reader). This is shameless smut.

WARNINGS: SEXUALLY EXPLICIT, P IN V, AFTERCARE, SWEAR WORDS, CUM, ORAL (M Receiving), DEGRADING.

“Fuck.” the word fell with a hiss, you squeezed your eyes shut as your hands grabbed the sheets. Miguel kept his hands on the fat of your hips, pulling you close to him as his cock plunged in and out of your spongey carven. The sopping wetness echoed as his hips slapped against the meat of your ass. 

His hand, heavy and large, slapped your right asscheek, groping the meat and shaking it. “Take my cock so good, pretty. Love seeing this ass move.”

You groaned, fucking him back with equal wantonness. His tongue glided up your back until he met your neck and bit into it – barely restraining his strength. You wouldn’t have minded. You enjoyed the occasional prone bone, fucked like a doll while he came inside you. 

Miguel’s hips lowered, keeping you still and pushing you flat onto the bed – getting rid of your arch. Thick cock fucking into you with heady greed. His cock split your pussy wide and full, with its pulsing hardness, and girth widening your womb as it sawed your pussy. Your arousal soaked him and dripped down while he whispered dirty, dirty things in your ear.

“You like being my dirty little slut?” his tongue flicked a spot on your neck, lips sucking the spot.

“Mig, mi tigre. Love this fat cock in me.” you purred, right hand releasing the sheet to grip his hair. Your eyes rolled back as his hips snapped. “Fuck a baby into me?”

“Yeah?” he asked, voice a delicious depth filled with gravel that made your pussy shudder around him. “You want me to fuck a baby into you? Want my cum deep in you? Painting this tight pussy? Tits fat and leaking? Tell me, baby.”

A moan from deep in your stomach growled. “I want your cum dripping out of me. C’mon baby, give that. Fuck me just that, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

His hand snaked around to your front, fingers pinching your clit before rubbing it. You worked your hips as much as you could, chasing your orgasm until it came – creaming his entire length. In the silence of your shared room, his hips smacked against your ass and he held you down by the waist, fucking into your quivering centre to chase his own explosive end. 

As he filled you to the brim, his hips stuttered, jamming in every drop of his essence. Above you, you heard him heave a sigh – before rolling onto his back and taking you with him; keeping you filled with his semi-hard length. Hands gripped you, Miguel keep you still as he raised his hips up and fucked up into you. 

Your hands flew to his, knees digging in the bed as he kept pace. It was a position where you should hold power but Miguel's strength came in handy, that inhuman stamina that allowed him to hold you up and fuck his cock into you like it was nothing. 

“Yes, yes!”

There was something to be said about the weightlessness of being fucked this way. Being so filled with cock, tits bouncing as the man you loved thrust mercilessly in and out of you. Cock moving through your warm inside, the lube of both of your cum creating a mess between the two of you, the dig of his fingers in the fat of your hips. 

His voice seemed gone – drunk and filled on your pussy. All you heard were animalistic grunts, growls of pleasure, the hiss of breath leaving him, the sharpness of it pulling into his chest while he made you his own. 

You already were. Your pussy knew every curve and inch of his cock, every vein and tattoo of his movement. 

Your climax came again surrounding him, his grip tightening and cock digging deeper till it almost hurt, brushing against your cervix. The growl of arousal came in a shout, warm semen spurting into you. Miguel let go of you and naturally, you fell ontop of him gripping his firm legs as you managed to relax your heart. 

Fingers ghosted over your calf, all the way to your thigh and to the bottom of your peach-shaped ass. His thumbs parted the asscheeks exposing the connection between your pussy and his cock. White cum appeared like thick glue; he passed his index around the rim, feeling the mess you’d both made.

“You look so good like this, mi amor.” he groaned, voice hoarse. 

You trembled, the light touches making you shake. You rocked on his cock, sending a tremble through your oversensitive body. You gripped his ankles, arching your back and looking back at him. 

His eyes, redden with hunger looked back at you. His hands cupped each cheek of your buttocks, groping and jiggling the fat in his hand. Groaning, you rocked on him again making him hiss. 

Miguel was such a pretty thing to watch when you fucked him.

His face contorted like a painting, plumb lips parting and white teeth hanging as delicious sounds fell. The muscles in his neck tensed, chest-puffing – stomach tightening. You rode him slowly, just watching the way he seemed to come alive all over again. 

“Pretty boy,” you mumbled – knowing he’d heard you. “Look at my pretty boy – you like watching my ass ride your fat cock?”

He groaned, teeth capturing his bottom lip. Head rolling back, your eyes planted on the ceiling as you rocked on him faster, pushing your thighs until they burned – mimicking your squat routine as you rode him.

“Ah, mi tigre. Love that big cock inside me.”

You know he was getting closer when he gripped your hips and began to fuck up into you, attempting to throw you off balance. You kept your pace until he took a sharp breath, fingernails forming crescents in your skin as you felt him paint your insides again.

“Mierda!”

Chasing your own, back and forth, you became jello in his hold again. Miguel turned the two of you to your side and kissed your neck, the many bruises he’d left. Finally, he pulled out of you, hand slipping between your sticky thighs to smear his cum all over your battered pussy. 

You turned around, wrapping arms around his neck, his eyes back to their soft brown as he stared at you. Back when the two of you had just started dating, his unrepentant staring used to freak you out. Now? Now you loved the way he seemed to want to commit you to memory. How every moment was special. 

He smiled at you. “Muy bonita, mi amor. Mi princesa.”

You blushed, the wet flop of his brown hair against his skin, the curves of his beautiful face. His hand smacked your sore ass playfully. “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up, princesa. Then, I’ll make us some dinner.”

“Mhmm. That sounds good, mi tigre.” 

***

Miguel prepared a warm bath for you, rubbing you down with massage oil and your favourite lotion. Helping you tie up your hair and complete your skin routine. After any session -- Miguel was always painstakingly kind in how he made sure you were good. And as usual, it made you want to climb him like a tree all over again.

As promised, he made dinner and the two of you ate together. Your favourite, lamb stew and naan. Of course, he cleaned up afterwards.

A little while later, a warm cup of lavender tea found its way to your hands after dinner, your boyfriend putting the finishing touches on dessert as he set it in the oven. Miguel always looked comical in the tiny two-bedroom apartment’s kitchen. Too big, too wide for such a space but now it seemed most natural. You had both come from the shower, Miguel dressed in low joggers while you wore your old alumni t-shirt that was several sizes too big. You sat snuggled warmly on the living room sofa, an old sitcom rolling on the television.

Miguel planted himself beside you, slurping his own tea. 

Feeling oh so warm. 

You cursed yourself, crossing your legs and biting your lip. Weren’t you sore? Didn’t you just eat? Fuck. Now, you’d have to shower again. Taking one last sip, you sat your cup down and pressed yourself to him like some ornery cat in heat. 

His eyes flickered over you – a question on his face. You kissed him, hand roaming his impressive torso. “Hi.”

Miguel grinned. “Princesa.”

Nails ghosting his skin for a moment, you leaned back and pulled your t-shirt off. Leaning over, you tugged his joggers down and flipped his cock out. It flopped, half hard outside of the grey material. You shoot him a questioning look.  

He sipped his tea before answering, watching your pepper his member with kitten licks. “I could smell you in the kitchen, princesa.”

Rolling your eyes, you licked the slit of the head, before swallowing the mushroom head and sucking. Miguel set one hand behind your head, guiding but not pushing. It was a warm press, as you took it deeper, cheeks shallow as you bobbed your head up and down it. Like a flower, it bloomed in your mouth. 

The hard member passed in and out, steely and salty. Miguel groaned above you, Spanish falling from his mouth as sucked his cock.

“Do I taste good baby? You’re sucking me so hard. Fucking cleaning me dry.”

“Princesa, pouty lips spread around me – merida.”

“My pretty cock sucker.”

“You like this. You like sucking me, you like me pushing your head down and making you gag on this fat cock. C’mon, princesa. C’mon.”

Deep-throating him for a moment, you almost smiled when he gasped, gripping your hair as you kept it open for him to plunge into your mouth. Wet, sloppy sounds echoed, the white cum and spit dripping back down to his waist as he fucked your mouth. 

Your hand cupped his balls rubbing the sack while he guided you up and down his member. Pulling back, you rubbed it along your face and sucked on his ballsack, releasing each sack with a plop before repeating. Your hand stroked him insistently. 

Miguel muttered Spanish frustrations out, voice hoarse as his climax neared. You heard the sound of something breaking, no doubt his cup of tea being flung to some corner of the room while both hands cradled your head. 

Letting his ballsack fall, you sucked the tip of his cock, not surprised when his explosion came filling up your mouth. Miguel sighed. Liquid as he filled your mouth and you hurried to swallow it in increments, hips staggering as you milked him dry; ever so greedy to imprint the feel, unique shape and flavour of his cock and salty essence. 

Slowly, he softened up in your mouth, riding your mouth until he was spent of himself before pulling you off. Miguel wasted no time in pulling you up to his lap and kissing you senseless, you barely managed to swallow the last of his semen before his tongue invaded your mouth. 

In a vision of passion, he guided his member into your soaking-wet centre. Miguel held you close, groaning as your familiar tight warmth encased him. His cock came with little preparation but this was not an act of love but lust. You strummed your own clit as he fucked you quickly and clumsily. Your pussy clamped around him, the repeated intrusion of his girth a hurried fact. 

Wanton hurry and growls filled the moment. You clawed at each other, feeling for more, grinding against the other – you wanted to melt into one lumpen flesh of sex. Heady, insane and furious. In one crashing moment, your joined climax came in totally sucking of tantric energy; accumulating into a single, great explosion. 

At the end of it all, Miguel could only say one word. One word as his cum flooded you and his cock grew soft, one word as you squirted and screamed, nails breaking his skin. 

Mierda. Mierda. 

***

He lived for these weekends home with you. How gratifying they were.

MASTERLIST

[meetinginsamarra]

mayprompts2024, #30 journey

Chapters 1 to 6 here on AO3

If you like the tattoo AU give it some love on my AO3, please. It would mean a lot to me. TYSM!

+++++

White Pony Tattoo - Part Ten (journey)

Eight days later, once again, John found himself hovering in front of 221 Baker Street. He wondered if there would ever come a time when he would be able to simply just walk inside because he was sure about it like every other normal person would probably do.

The days since he had last seen Sherlock had flown by, with John barely noticing the passage of time. He had thought a lot about what Mrs Hudson had said to him in her kitchen. Not the threat she had uttered. But the thing about Sherlock having had a hard time in his past.

John had pondered about what might have happened to him, what had hurt Sherlock so much that he had needed to put up that wall of protection around himself. To build an armour around his heart.

Of course, John wouldn’t ask. He also promised himself not to stalk Sherlock on the internet any further. If Sherlock wanted to trust John with telling him anything about his past, it was solely up to Sherlock to take the first step into this direction.

Calais Reno, the movie star, whom John had begun to follow on Instagram out of sheer curiosity, had posted a picture of the newly acquired tattoo yesterday. It had been placed on the outer side of the right calf and reminded John of a mixture between HG Wells’ steampunk-inspired time machine and Doctor Who’s Tardis. It was intricately detailed and although it was very close to a technical drawing, the image seemed three-dimensional. Given that the movie star was known to be a fan of stories about time travel, it was the perfect choice.

John would have expected nothing less, coming from Sherlock.

Which made him more and more curious about the phoenix Sherlock would put onto him this afternoon. Excited. Also, a bit anxious. What if he didn’t like Sherlock’s design after all? Sherlock had only texted John, giving him a time and a date when the tatooing would take place but he had not given the tiniest hint concerning its design.

John remembered very well the part of Sherlock’s shop sign that demanded no arguing. He would just have to trust Sherlock, John supposed.

Into battle. John opened the door.

Sherlock, dressed in a deep green shirt today, was already waiting and welcomed John with a radiant smile. This time, he reciprocated John’s firm hug with much more comfort and surety.

Without further ado, John was led into the tattoo parlour behind the curtain and Sherlock wordlessly gestured at the computer screen. It showed a black-hued phoenix. In a realistic 3D view that turned from side to side in an endless loop as if John was moving his arm. The firy bird totally eclipsed the Virgin Mary tattoo, depicted in faint red hues underneath, leaving not even the least bit of ink uncovered.

John stared with his mouth hanging open and didn’t know what to say.

“Given that you just perform the perfect impersonification of a gold fish, I take it that the design pleases you.” Sherlock deadpanned.

“Holy cow, Sherlock, this is,” John’s voice was hoarse as a multitude of feelings rushed through him, “this is… perfection.”

 John must have chosen the right word because Sherlock’s face flushed red.

“It had to be. More than any tattoo before.” Sherlock swallowed, fiddling awkwardly with his hands. “I made it for you, John.”

“Sherlock, I…”

But Sherlock launched into a flurry of rapid movements, starting to set up everything for the tattoo session. It looked like a meticulously rehearsed ballet performance and John was transfixed by the lithe beauty and grace.

“Get comfortable in the seat,” Sherlock said whilst putting various needles, phials and two tattoo guns onto a tray, “I estimate that it will take three and a half hours to tattoo the phoenix. If you need a break, to move or stretch, just say so.”

John did as he had been asked and then Sherlock took off his dress-shirt to put on sterile surgical gloves. Underneath it, Sherlock wore a skin-tight black t-shirt where the short sleeves had been cut off. For the very first time, John saw Sherlock’s arms and the sight made him grateful that he was already sitting.

Sherlock’s arms were nothing short of spectacular.

Beautifully muscled, like a dancer’s, skin milky-white and smooth like marble. His right arm was not tattooed, but the left was wholly covered with intricate lines of deep black and brilliant red. From John’s point of view, they looked like dancing flames.

Sherlock apparently felt John’s eyes on him because he suddenly kept still. He turned, stepped up to John and held out the tattooed arm so that John could take a look at its front side. He carefully watched John’s reaction.

“You also have a phoenix on your arm!” John gasped. “A huge phoenix surrounded by flames!”

“Brilliant observation, John.”

John realized that every time Sherlock had become sarcastic before, at least when he had talked to John, it had been an indicator of Sherlock being nervous. Something that he would never openly admit.

But what should Sherlock be nervous about?

The tattoo was beautiful and perfect and then John remembered what Sherlock had said about perfect tattoos. That they had to connect to their wearer’s personality and history. The implications of Sherlock’s professional credo in connection with chosing a phoenix for himself made John dizzy.

Did that mean…

“Are you a survivor, too?” John blurted, overwhelmed by his sudden epiphany.

Sherlock sighed. He fought an inner battle, the pros and cons of the choice he was about to make clearly written on his face.

John didn’t say anything, knowing Sherlock needed time for what this was. To find the courage and the trust to tell John about it.

When Sherlock had made his decision, he straightened his back and carefully wiped every emotion off his face, but his eyes stayed wary and apprehensive and he looked right over John’s head.

“It’s been a long journey before I’ve arrived where I am now.” Sherlock gestured with his hand to the tattoo parlour. “It’s not been a joy ride for a very long time. I’ve literally died, John! My heart had stopped and I’ve been brought back to life.”

John simply nodded one time. He did not dare move another muscle, lest Sherlock might get spooked and retreat back into his shell.

Sherlock took a deep breath, gathering his strength. He slowly searched for John’s eyes. After finding them, he asked silently.

“Have you ever wondered why I chose the name White Pony Tattoo?”

++++++

tagging some people @totallysilvergirl @peageetibbs @lisbeth-kk @raina-at @calaisreno

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

North To The Future [Chapter 7: King Of Wishful Thinking]

The year is 1999. You are just beginning your veterinary practice in Juneau, Alaska. Aegon is a mysterious, troubled newcomer to town. You kind of hate him. You are also kind of obsessed with him. Falling for him might legitimately ruin your life…but can you help it? Oh, and there’s a serial killer on the loose known only as the Ice Fisher.

Chapter warnings: Language, alcoholism, addiction, murder, discussions of sex, outdoor excursions, Trent being the Hulk, Sunfyre sightings, emotional outbursts, a late-night phone call, a wild traumatic backstory appears! Also I have bronchitis and wrote this while very heavily medicated, in my Aegon Era you could say.

Word count: 6.7k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: ​​​@elsolario​ @meadowofsinfulthoughts​ @ladylannisterxo​ @doingfondue​ @tclegane​ @quartzs-posts​ @liathelioness​ @aemcndtargaryen​ @thelittleswanao3​ @burningcoffeetimetravel​ @b1gb3anz​ @hinata7346​ @poohxlove​ @borikenlove​ @myspotofcraziness​ @travelingmypassion​ @graykageyama​ @skythighs​ @lauraneedstochill​ @darlingimafangirl​ @charenlie​ @thewew​ @eddies-bat-tattoos​ @minttea07​ @joliettes​ @trifoliumviridi​ @bornbetter​ @flowerpotmage​ @thewitch-lives​ 

Please let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 💜

When you return from helping to deliver a calf on Mr. Campbell’s reindeer farm, you find Aegon in the vet clinic lobby. He is squaring up with Jennifer; the heap of twenty-dollar bills he stacks on the counter are crisp and uncrumpled, very much unlike his usual currency. He counts until he gets to $300 and then tucks his thin, tattered wallet into the back pocket of his jeans. He’s wearing half of his hair in a man bun again, along with his long-sleeve shirt that’s striped with black and white: night and stars, ink and snow. He startles when he turns to leave and sees you.

“How did you get that?”

“I told you,” Aegon says. “I sold a kidney. The slicing part was unpleasant, but I feel so much lighter now.”

“No, really.”

He shrugs nonchalantly. He seems mostly sober. “I pawned something.”

“Pawned what?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does.”

“It honestly doesn’t.”

“What do you own that’s worth that much…?” You glance through the window. His green Nova is straddling two spaces in the parking lot, illuminated by dim melancholy streetlights. If it wasn’t the car, what was it? What the hell was it?

Aegon holds his hands open, empty. “You wanted me to pay you back. Now you’re mad that I paid you back. I don’t know how to win with you, Appletini.”

The words themselves are irritated, he should sound irritated; but he just sounds sad. A heavy quilt of silence settles over the lobby. Your gaze is tangled up in his: blue, oceanic, mottled like a bruise. Jen watches from behind the front desk with huge, zooming eyes. She clears her throat to get your attention. Bear mace! she mouths, pointing at your purse.

You shake off your paralysis. “I’m sorry,” you tell Aegon. “Thanks for the money.”

He rubs the back of his neck anxiously. “Do you want to get a drink or something? Maybe talk…about…things…?”

“No. I’m covered in reindeer placenta.”

“Fine.” He blows by you, yanks open the front door, and is gone before you can take it back.

What’s there to talk about? you think, trying to convince yourself that you made the right decision. He’s still with Kimmie, I’m still with Trent, his time in Juneau is still ticking down towards zero. And yet, as his Nova swerves out of the parking lot, you feel an ache in your bones like a fracture.

“You okay?” Jen asks.

“Yeah. Can I get that $300?”

Confused but ever-compliant, Jen hands you the $300 in twenties.

“Do I have any more appointments this afternoon?”

“No, Ms. Flynn just called to reschedule Hyacinth’s yearly checkup.”

Oh yes, Hyacinth the semi-tamed opossum. Not your favorite client. “Perfect. Let’s close up a little early. I need to go home and scrub the blood out of my hair.”

In the midst of the steam and the pounding rainfall of the shower, you turn it over and over again in your mind: What did he pawn? What did he risk losing to pay me back? Reindeer blood, viscous and lifegiving, turns the soap bubbles dark pink as they are sucked down the drain. It’s not until you step out onto the bathmat and catch a glimpse of your reflection in the fogged mirror—of the foamy white flecks of soap still dappling your throat like pearls—that you remember the gold chain necklace Aegon wore to Thanksgiving dinner.

$300? you think doubtfully. A pawn shop will only loan someone a portion of the value of the item they hold as collateral, rarely more than half. Usually much less. Is that chain worth $600, $800, $1,000? Maybe. If it’s real gold. You don’t want to imagine how Aegon ended up with something like that. There’s no honorable answer. You throw on jeans and a chunky royal blue sweater and head out to your Jeep Cherokee.

There is only one pawn shop in Juneau, which makes things easy. You arrive ten minutes before closing time. Sure enough, store owner Mark Morehouse confirms your hypothesis: a peculiar white-haired out-of-towner showed up earlier today, offered a gold chain, received cash in return.

“But I didn’t give him $300,” Mark says. “I gave him $500.”

“$500?!” you exclaim. “You really think that necklace is worth a grand?”

“A couple grand, more likely. Haven’t gotten a proper appraisal yet.”

“Well…” You count every last cent of cash you have in your purse. The cannister of bear mace clatters as you dig through gum wrappers, pens, tissues, strawberry Creme Savers, crinkled receipts. “I can give you $410 now and a solemn vow to settle the balance later. Plus interest, of course.”

Indisputably, it is a breach of pawn shop ethics to let one customer walk out with another’s collateral before they’ve had adequate opportunity to pay back the loan. But Mark grew up with your parents, just like Dale did, and Heather’s parents, and Joyce’s parents, and half of your vet clinic clients, on and on until Juneau feels less like a city than an inescapably embroiled web. Everybody knows everybody…though not well enough to recognize the face of a killer. You explain to Mark that the white-haired out-of-towner is in fact a friend, and one that you are trying to do a favor for. He gives you the gold chain necklace in exchange for your cash and your word. It’s worth a lot around here. Vince and Debbie are good, honest people; surely their daughter must be too.

“Be careful,” Mark calls after you as you depart. “Until they catch that murderer, you shouldn’t be running around town alone after dark. And you definitely shouldn’t be getting too cozy with strangers.”

“Aegon’s not a stranger,” you say, smiling a little as you linger in the doorway. “Not anymore.”

Once you’re back in your Jeep, you turn on the heat and the interior light and inspect the chain more closely. It definitely feels expensive: heavy, flawless, golden links that are smooth like butter when you thread them between your fingers. On the long rectangular clasp, you find this engraved in artful cursive letters:

Happy birthday, dearest Aegon!

You flip the clasp over. There are three more words on the back, accompanied by—however bizarrely—a tiny praying mantis.

Much love, Helaena

“Helaena?” you say to no one as your Jeep idles outside the pawn shop. “Who the fuck is Helaena?!”

You have no right to be jealous, and yet you can feel the dark green poison of it growing into you like ivy: needling through joints, cracking bones, drinking up rust-scarlet marrow. You hate how much you want him. You hate that so many people on this planet carry pieces of him that you will never know. You shift your Jeep into drive and glide through the night towards his apartment building.

You shouldn’t go up there, you tell yourself as you park under a streetlight. He might be busy. He might not be alone. He might be with Kimmie.

But maybe that’s what part of you is hoping for. Maybe you’re looking for a chance to interrupt them, to stop them, to work up the courage to tell Kimmie the truth. She would listen if you told her, you believe that wholeheartedly; Kimmie has never been malicious, only self-involved, only shallow in a way that can be frustrating but also somehow pure. You always know exactly what Kimmie’s intentions are. She is as clear as still water, as glass.

As it turns out, Aegon is alone in his apartment. When you turn the spare key he gave you in the lock and open the front door, you find him sprawled on the couch and three rum and Cokes deep. He’s watching reruns of the X-Files. He yelps in surprise, flails, rolls onto the floor with a loud thud.

“Hi,” you say. Sunfyre frolics over to greet you, barking gleefully. You stroke his silky amber fur and scratch his ears, admiring the neat faint line of the scar on his muzzle. It was excellent suturing, you have to admit to yourself. It was a job well done.

“Jesus Christ, I thought you might be…” Aegon shakes his head as he lurches to his feet. “Never mind.”

“Kimmie?”

“No. Kimmie wouldn’t break and enter. And she doesn’t have a key.”

You stare at each other across the sparce room, silent except for the X-Files, the clacking of Sunfyre’s nails on the hardwood floor, the swishing of his tail. Then you toss Aegon the necklace. He grabs it out of the air, the shock blatant on his face. “You lied again.”

“About what?” he says, puzzled.

“You are married.”

Aegon remembers the engraving and then chuckles in relief. “Helaena’s not my wife. She’s my sister.”

“Oh.” This is interesting. This is a rare divulgence; you don’t intend to waste it. “Older or younger?”

“Younger.”

“Is Helaena your only sibling?”

“Too many questions.” He holds up the necklace. “Why did you pay to get this back?”

“I decided I didn’t want your money. You don’t seem to have an abundance of it, and I wouldn’t want to deprive you and Sunfyre of anything. Food. Rent. Condoms. Rum and Cokes.”

“That’s very thoughtful. My nonexistent illegitimate children send their regards.” He considers you. “I can’t give you the rest of the $500 yet. I don’t have it on me anymore.”

“Forget about the money. You need it far more than I do.”

He seems to find this amusing, though you aren’t sure why. “That’s fair, I guess.”

“Why do you hate Microsoft so much?”

Aegon is taken aback; he wasn’t expecting that. He finds his footing. “With computers and the internet, there are no more secrets, no more mysteries. I think the world is a more interesting place when you still have room to wonder. You shouldn’t be able to get all the answers to life’s thorniest predicaments from a cold white screen. You should have to go out and find them yourself. You should have to pay sweat and blood for them.”

“How contrarian. Self-righteous, even.”

He smiles. “That’s the Aquarius in me.”

You smile back, unable to help it. “Are you coming tomorrow?” Tomorrow is Saturday, December 11th. Heather has planned a hiking excursion in the Tongass National Forest; it’s forecasted to be unseasonably warm, 40 degrees by noon, practically balmy by Alaskan standards. You’ll have a few hours of daylight to enjoy before sunset around 3 p.m. And since the Juneau Police Department is adamant that no one traverses the trails alone until the Ice Fisher is apprehended…a group outing is both a welcome excuse to socialize and the only sensible option.

“I don’t know.” Aegon is avoidant; he stuffs the chain necklace into his jeans pocket and reties his man bun. “Do you want me to go?”

“No.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“I mean, I don’t not want you to go, but I also don’t want you to go. I don’t care, that’s what I mean. I have no preference.”

“Okay…?”

“I want you to do whatever you want to do.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to intrude, so I don’t want to go if you don’t want me there.”

“I’m not saying I don’t want you to go hiking, I’m just saying I also don’t not want you to go hiking.”

He sighs dramatically. “You are being remarkably unhelpful.”

“I’m sure Kimmie would like you to attend,” you jibe.

He throws up his hands, exasperated. “She probably would!”

“She hasn’t mentioned it?”

“Kimmie and I don’t do much…um…talking.”

You frown sullenly at the scuffed, dusty floor. “Awesome.”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure you and Trent have lots of profound conversations when you hang out,” Aegon snaps. “You talk about science and animals and Ricky Martin and travelling the world and he talks about…what? Commercial fishing? Godzilla?”

“Steak tacos, mostly.”

That’s supposed to be a joke, but no one laughs. You actually wince at it. Aegon swallows noisily. He starts to say something, stops, starts again, gives up. He comes to you and points to your left hand. “Do you mind?”

You offer it freely. He massages your hand until it is supple and relaxed, gently bends and flexes your fingers, and then runs his calloused fingerprints down the lines of your palm as he studies them. You feel it everywhere: a cool tingling that shoots up your forearm, a jolt down your spine, the quickening of your heartbeat, a fresh wave of longing that crashes into you like the ocean against rocks. Why do I still want this? Why can’t I, after everything that’s happened, just learn how to hate him?

Aegon smirks crookedly. “It says you want me to go hiking tomorrow.”

“Who am I to disagree with an illustrious Taco Bell medium?”

Aegon drops your hand. “Is Trent going?”

“Yeah, that’s the plan.”

He nods. “I’ll be there.”

“Okay. Fine.”

“Fine.”

You give Sunfyre a parting kiss on the top of his head and turn to go…but your eyes catch on the magnets that clutter Aegon’s refrigerator, the vestiges of cities and experiences and women that he’s collected like seashells from the types of beaches you’ve never been to.

San Diego, you think vaguely, wistfully, looking at the splashing dolphin magnet. That’s where he said his favorite beach is.

“…You alright?” Aegon asks tentatively, following your eyeline.

Not really. Not anymore. You leave without answering him.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Truth or dare?” Kimmie asks, grinning from across the flames.

You’re gathered around a crackling campfire, sitting on stumps and felled logs; Trent rolled over an impressively massive one for you and him to share. Aegon is next to Kimmie, Joyce is next to Rob, and Heather is once again lamenting her awkward singleness. There’s snow on the ground, though it’s squishy and melting under the short-lived midday sun. There are hotdogs and marshmallows being roasted on sticks; bags of hotdog buns, graham crackers, and Hershey’s chocolate are passed around in a never-ending rotation. As far as drinks, mostly everyone is sticking to Surge and Snapple. Trent has had a few Heinekens. Aegon is pouring spiced rum from a Captain Morgan bottle into his half-drank cans of Coke. Heather’s battery-powered yellow Sony boombox is playing a Go West cassette tape. Their biggest hit, King Of Wishful Thinking, thrums through the forest of towering pine trees. Sunfyre—wearing a jacket and dog boots so snow doesn’t get impacted between his footpads—romps blissfully around the woods, eating fallen bits of hotdogs and graham crackers whenever the opportunity presents itself.

“Seriously?” Heather says. “Are we twelve years old? We’re not playing truth or dare.”

“Come on, please?” Kimmie presses her palms together as if in prayer, like she’s the patron saint of indecent party games. “It’ll be fun. It’ll be so fun.”

“I’m game,” Trent says.

“Me too!” Rob adds, gnawing on his fourth hotdog.

Joyce bites into a s’more, gooey chocolate-stained marshmallow oozing out from between the graham crackers. “I decline to participate.”

“You can’t decline,” Kimmie pouts. She peers around for inspiration, then spots the creek babbling a few yards away. She announces triumphantly: “You can only surrender!”

Joyce blinks at her. “Explain.”

“If anyone refuses to play, they have to dunk their face in the water for five seconds.”

“But it’s freezing cold!”

“You are a menace to civilized society,” Heather tells Kimmie. “You should be on the FBI’s Most Wanted list. Right next to Osama bin Laden.”

“Who?” Trent asks.

“He’s behind bombings of U.S. embassies in East Africa,” you explain. “Killed hundreds of people.”

Trent smiles at you proudly, drapes a heavy arm across your shoulders, pulls you in close and kisses your temple. “You’re too fucking smart, you know that?” You giggle dutifully but lean away from him, mortified. Aegon mixes more rum into his Coke can. “She’s so fly. I’m always learning new stuff from her.”

“Oh yeah? Getting some quality anatomy lessons?” Rob teases.

Trent brays out laughter and flips his hair. “Man, I wish. No anatomy lessons yet. But, you know…Christmas is right around the corner…it’s a very romantic time of year…maybe I’ll find her wrapped in a bow under a Christmas tree.”

“Please shut up immediately,” Heather says, disgusted. “You’re my brother. I don’t want to know about your sex life. I barely want to know about your non-sex-related life.” Aegon casts her a rare glance of approval, of gratitude. You can relate; you’re feeling pretty grateful too.

“So we’re playing truth or dare?” Kimmie prompts.

“I’m willing if everyone else is,” you say. Kimmie, ecstatic, leaps out of her seat and sprints around the campfire to hug you before returning to her log.

Aegon slurps on his unorthodox rum and Coke. “Same.”

Joyce groans. “Fine, I guess I’ll play.”

“Okay,” Heather relents. “If it will make you happy, Kimmie, then I’ll mentally transport myself back to the dark days of middle school and play this asinine game with you.”

“Yay!” Kimmie cheers. “Okay, I’ll start.” Her mischievous gaze travels around the circle. You try to appear inconspicuous by focusing your attention on your s’more. “Rob, truth or dare?”

“Dare,” he says, sitting up straighter and grinning enthusiastically.

“Go lick a tree.”

You burst out laughing; this really is so middle school.

“A tree?” Rob says, already scoping out the selection.

“Yup. A tree. Any tree.”

Rob stands, plods through the snow to a monstrous pine tree, and takes a long, slow lick of the bark. Everyone applauds his commitment. He returns to sit beside Joyce, who gives him a smile so swift it’s almost imperceivable. Joyce likes to pretend she’s above silliness—and maybe she is most of the time—but she’s still human.

“So you choose the next victim,” Kimmie instructs Rob.

“Okay, let’s see…” He makes a great show of scrutinizing everyone else before coming back to Joyce. “Darling Joyce, truth or dare?”

“If you try to make me lick something, I’ll stab you with your own hotdog stick.”

Rob smiles placidly. “Does that mean you’re choosing dare?”

“Yeah, I’ll choose dare. Only because Heather thinks I wouldn’t.”

“I am shocked,” Heather says, deadpan. “My heart just stopped. Someone resuscitate me.”

Rob thinks, tapping his bearded chin. “Hmm. Okay, Joyce, I dare you to stand on this log and serenade us with the entire Friends theme song.”

“No,” Joyce gasps, horrified.

“She can’t,” Heather says. “She’s allergic to fun and spontaneity.”

“I’ll do it,” Joyce huffs. She balances on top of the log and sings—even managing a few reluctant dance moves—while the rest of you clap at the appropriate moments: “So no one told you life was going to be this way…your job’s a joke, you’re broke, you’re love life’s DOA…”

“Who do you choose, Joyce?” Kimmie asks when the song has ended.

“Heather, obviously.” She is delighted, anticipating revenge. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Heather says primly, winking as she sips her can of Surge.

“You bitch! Who’s allergic to fun now?!”

“So ask me a fun question.”

Joyce sighs in defeat. “What are the five best books you’ve ever read?”

“You’re pathetic.”

“I need new reading material…!”

Next, Heather dares Kimmie to get a Sharpie tattoo drawn on her face—producing a black marker from her hiking backpack—though she gives Kimmie the generous courtesy of choosing the artist herself. Kimmie asks Aegon to do it. He sketches a cartoonish little dragon on her right cheek. He’s wearing all black again: black parka, black turtleneck, black jeans, black combat boots. You pet Sunfyre while Aegon draws on Kimmie’s cheek with his right hand, holding her face still with his left. You hate seeing him touch her. The blood burns in your own face, in your throat, in your lungs, all over.

“It’s getting warm by the fire,” you say casually, and start taking off your parka; you still have a turquoise sweater and white thermal T-shirt on underneath.

“Here, let me help you…” Trent reaches over and tugs at your parka, his large hands forceful and intrusive somehow.

“I got it.”

“Just let me—”

“Trent, I got it!” you insist. He lifts his hands away in capitulation. Aegon has stopped drawing Kimmie’s dragon and is watching Trent, who fortunately doesn’t seem very offended. You finish taking off your parka and fold it up neatly, setting it beside you on the log. Sunfyre whimpers until you resume petting him. There is an uncomfortable lull; Joyce assembles another s’more, Heather pretends to inspect her chipping nail polish, the hotdog Rob is roasting catches on fire and he flings it into a snowbank. Aegon looks back to Kimmie and finishes her dragon, tucking the Sharpie absentmindedly into his jeans pocket once he’s done.

“Trent,” Kimmie says. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare, totally!”

“Hmm…” She wordlessly deliberates. “Oh, I know! I dare you to make out with the most beautiful girl here.” She beams, sweetly, innocuously. She thinks she’s giving you a compliment. Aegon’s jaw falls open and he glares at her, furious. Before Kimmie can notice, he clears his face and takes a swig of rum straight from the bottle.

Trent chuckles. “Easiest dare I’ve ever agreed to.” And then he turns towards you.

“Wait, right now?” you say nervously. “In front of everybody?”

“Or Trent can always dunk his face in the creek,” Heather suggests. Joyce nods along.

“Not necessary at all,” Trent replies cheerfully. “Right, babe?”

What can you say?

No, you think abruptly, jarringly. I don’t want him to touch me. I could say no.

But there’s something that stops you from refusing…or, more accurately, several things. Firstly, you can’t really refuse without making it evident to everyone that you are less than smitten with Trent. Secondly, if you’re going to be forced to watch Aegon have his hands all over Kimmie, the least you can do in return is stop pushing Trent’s away. And lastly…

I don’t want to make Trent angry. I don’t know what he’s capable of when he’s angry.

You can’t bring yourself to believe that Trent is a serial killer, his size 12 L.L.Bean boots notwithstanding; in your estimation, he lacks the brutality, the cunningness, the strategic thinking. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t capable of hurting someone. That doesn’t mean you have no reasons to fear him.

“Okay,” you tell Trent, conjuring up a timid smile. “But, like, thirty seconds tops. PG-13, not R.”

“You got it.” He flips his hair off his forehead, grips your face rather roughly, and kisses you. His lips are soft and warm, but ravenously hungry; his tongue pushes into your mouth and explores you like a conqueror. He doesn’t try to feel you up—thank God—but one hand drops down to slink around your waist. You try to act like you’re enjoying this; but when Trent finally pulls away, your expression is palpably ashamed. You chug half a can of Surge to wash him out of you.

“Aww, no, she’s embarrassed!” Kimmie cries. She rushes over and squeezes in beside you on the edge of the log, constricting you in a familiar and theatrical embrace, stroking your hair. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You can’t help but feel better. Kimmie has no boundaries, that’s true, but it’s not universally a bad thing. Aegon takes another swallow of his rum. He looks shellshocked; he looks despondent.

“My turn to pick someone now, right?” Trent says.

“Right,” Kimmie concurs.

“Babe,” he says to you. “Truth or dare?”

“Oh, definitely truth.” Everyone laughs…well, everyone except Aegon. He’s watching you now, chewing the corner of his bottom lip. His eyes are intense, dark, seeking. His wayward lock of white-blond hair rests on his cheek.

Trent asks you: “What is your ultimate fantasy?”

“Stop!” Heather begs her brother. “Stop being so…so…so slutty!”

“He didn’t say sexual fantasy,” Joyce counters. “She could tell us that her ultimate fantasy is moving to Los Angeles and becoming a vet to celebrities. She could work on those tiny purse dogs all day. Maybe she could even meet Ricky Martin.”

“Yeah,” Trent agrees, though perhaps halfheartedly. “Whatever kind of fantasy.”

You ponder this for a while before you speak. “I want to lie on the beach in San Diego, California. I want to hear the waves crashing and feel the sun beating down on me. And I want to throw fish to the sea lions and watch them waddle around, barking like dogs. That’s my fantasy. Oh, and I want to eat like a million tacos. Not Taco Bell tacos, real tacos.”

“Okay, but Ricky Martin would be there too, right?” Rob jokes, eliciting laughter from everyone except Aegon.

“Naked,” Joyce adds.

“Sure.” You smile a little pensively, a little mournfully. “Why not? Ricky Martin can be there too. It’s just a fantasy, after all. It’s not real.”

“Why haven’t you gone there yet, babe?” Trent asks sympathetically, scoring himself several good boyfriend points.

“Well, you know…there’s the vet clinic…and my family…the timing has just never been right.”

“You’ll go to San Diego one day,” Heather promises.

Kimmie nuzzles against you, resting her head on your shoulder. “She hasn’t gone yet because she’s a mature, responsible person, truly the best of us.”

“Because she’s a coward,” Aegon mutters.

Everyone goes quiet and stares at him. Aegon looks stunned, like he hadn’t intended to say that out loud. Sunfyre snorts and canters off into the woods.

“What?” you say.

Aegon shakes his head. “Nothing.”

“No, really. What did you just say?”

Rob tries to broker a peace. “It doesn’t matter—”

“It does matter.” Your voice is dark like night, cutting like glass. “You think it’s cowardly to have responsibilities? You think it’s cowardly to care about other people?”

Aegon gulps down more rum and glares at you through the campfire flames. “I think it’s cowardly to blame other people for your lack of a spine, yeah.”

“Aegon!” Kimmie scolds harshly, incredulously.

Trent begins: “Hey, man, not cool—”

“You know what’s really cowardly?” you level at Aegon like the barrel of a gun. “Spending your entire life running away from things—things that are worthwhile, things that you want, things that you are desperate for—because you’re too fucking weak to cope with the possibility of losing them.”

And then you stand, tearing away from Kimmie and Trent when they try to stop you. You flee into the trees, scalding tears brimming in your eyes. Branches rip at you; one carves a shallow gash across your cheek just below your left eye. Snow collapses under your boots.

Faintly, you can hear Aegon saying to the others: “I’ll go, I’ll go, I’ll apologize.” And a few moments later, rapidly approaching: “Hey! Stop! Hey!”

“Leave me alone!” you scream over your shoulder. You run until you trip over a gnarled tree root and fall to the ground, sobbing, wet, cold, miserable.

Aegon catches up to you and bends over, gasping for air, his hands on his knees. Even from several feet away, you can smell the rum sweating out of him. “Are you psychotic?! You can’t just run off into the woods by yourself, there’s a killer on the loose!”

“Like you’d care if I got murdered!” you shout up at him. “It’d be the best day of your life, then you’d be free to fuck whoever you want and drink yourself to death without the inconvenience of having to be around me, boring, uptight, accountable, revoltingly cowardly me—!”

“God, you’re so fucking stupid—”

“Why are you even still here?! You could be jetting off to some other city, some other new adventure, you could leave anytime you wanted, so why if you hate me so much are you still here?!”

“Because I’m stuck here now!” he roars.

That doesn’t make any sense. That’s incompatible with absolutely everything about him. “Why?!”

He stands up straight and rubs his face with both hands. He’s calmer now; he’s trying to compose himself. His eyes are glistening, you realize. His cheeks are flushed. “Because of the Ice Fisher.”

“What are you talking about?”

He struggles to get it out. “I can’t leave…you…here…alone…until they catch whoever the killer is.”

You gaze up at him, not understanding. “Why do you care about what happens to me?”

“I think the answer to that is really obvious.”

“No, it’s not, because you don’t like me, you don’t respect me, you don’t want me—”

“I want you all the time,” Aegon says, and the feverish words in your throat vanish. “All the time. I pass out at night wanting you, I wake up hungover wanting you, I want you all the fucking time. I want you in the vet clinic, I want you in the bar, I want you in my apartment, I want you in the middle of the woods, I never for a single solitary goddamn second stop wanting you, and it’s hell, in case you’re wondering. But that’s not good enough for you. So now I’m the idiot. I’m never the one who gets left. I’m the one who leaves people, I’m the one who packs my bags in the middle of the night and catches a flight to the next city, I’m the one who runs away. It’s always me. But I showed you who I am and you couldn’t leave fast enough.”

Oh god, you realize. I can’t stop forgiving him. I can’t stop wanting him. I love him, I love him, I love him. “I wasn’t leaving you, Aegon. I was trying to fix you.”

“I’m not fixable!”

“But why?”

“I’m just not, I never have been, I’m never going to be. I can’t magically transform myself into the person you wish I was. Believe me, I would if I could, but I can’t. And I can’t stay here forever. I’m on a clock, I’m always on a goddamn clock. I’m just hoping they arrest the Ice Fisher before…before…” He trails off, staring vacantly into the wilderness.

“Before what?”

He says nothing. You haul yourself out of the snow and go to him. “Your face…” he whispers, touching the cut just beneath your eye.

“Before what, Aegon?” you ask, you plead. “I want to help you. I want to understand. What are you so afraid of? What is it? What the hell is it?”

He takes several steps away from you, looks down at his boots, stays that way for what feels like forever. “Okay,” he begins at last, his voice shaking.

Oh my god, he’s finally going to tell me. He really is. You brace yourself for the inevitable: he’s married, he’s a father, he’s being pursued by drug lords he’s indebted to, he’s a criminal, he’s a con artist, he’s a killer.

“My dad was the first investor in Microsoft.”

Your mind goes blank like a chalkboard wiped clean. “Microsoft…the…the company that’s worth $600 billion…?”

“Yeah. That one.” He gestures randomly. “My dad is a venture capitalist. So he owns equity stakes in a bunch of different businesses. When Bill Gates was just starting out, he and his partners needed money, so my dad invested and they gave him equity in return. A healthy slice of equity, because they weren’t worth anything yet. And so…as the company grew…”

“Wait, you’re a…?” You gawk at him. “You’re a…billionaire?!”

“Not me,” Aegon says. “Them! They’re the billionaires. Not me. I’m just a guy.”

“You are them, Aegon, because you’re the same people, you’re…you’re…”

“No, I’m not, because I left. I left when I was nineteen and I’ve never been back since. That was six years ago. Almost exactly six years ago.”

“You grew up in Miami,” you say, your voice sounding very far away.

“Yeah. Gorgeous mansion on the ocean, boarding schools, yachts, golfing, parties with lobster and prime rib, all of it.”

“And you left…because…?”

“Because I was the oldest son and the heir to the empire, and I didn’t want any of it. I didn’t want to live in a suit, I didn’t want to stare at a screen all day, I didn’t want to spend my life scheming, counting, networking, grasping. And I was no good at anything. I was an abject failure by any possible metric, and everyone knew it. All I ever wanted to do was work outside where I could see the sun and the stars, drink, get high, play guitar and sing punk rock songs. All I wanted to do was live. So I left. There’s more to it than that—a lot more to it—but now you know where I came from. I’ve never told anybody that. Not once in the last six years.”

“You don’t talk to anyone from Miami? Ever? No letters, postcards, phone calls, nothing?”

“Nothing.”

“You don’t ever miss your family?”

He smiles grimly. “I’m glad that you’ve lived the kind of life that makes it next to impossible for you to comprehend why someone would want to run away from home and never look back. Really, I’m genuinely happy for you. But that’s just not my reality.”

The revelation hits you like a fist. “They’re still searching for you.”

Aegon nods. “One of them in particular.”

“Helaena?”

“No.”

“Then who?”

“I don’t want to tell you that.” He glances at your cut again and shudders. “I don’t know how he’s finding me. But he is. I’ve seen him twice.”

“Twice? Since you left home…?”

“He didn’t see me, but I saw him. From a distance both times. Once in Phoenix, once in San Francisco. Both around the six month mark. If I stay too long in one place, he finds me. And if he ever gets ahold of me, I won’t be able to stop him from dragging me back home. Nothing on earth can stop him when he wants something.”

“How can you be so sure it was him?” you say. “If it was from far away, maybe you were just imagining it…maybe you saw someone who looked kind of like him, and because you’re so afraid of being found you thought it was him, but it wasn’t really—”

“He’s very distinct looking. Very, very distinct looking. There’s no mistaking him.” Aegon picks up a handful of clean snow, takes a small clump of it between his fingers, wipes the length of your cut with it gently, carefully. It soothes the stinging. It cools the roaring blood in your face. “Every year there are less and less people without internet. If someone Googles my last name, my family is the first result that pops up. Articles about my father’s success, my mother’s grace and beauty and philanthropy, the socialite daughter, the degenerate eldest son. One day there will be nowhere left to hide.”

“You never tried to change your name?”

“To legally change my name, I’d have to publish a public announcement so creditors—or anyone else—can come forward and object to it if they have a reason. The media would pick it up. There would be headlines, news commentators, maybe even court hearings. My family would find out, and they would come get me.”

“They’re that determined? They’re that capable?”

“One of them, yes.”

“You can’t stay in Juneau,” you say, your voice splintering like thin ice.

“No, I can’t. Not forever. But hopefully long enough make sure you’ll be safe once I’m gone.”

You look at him. “Do you have any idea who the Ice Fisher could be?”

He shrugs, like if he ignores the possibility he can make it disappear. “Not really. I guess…I guess have one person I’m concerned about. I don’t really think it’s him, I can’t bring myself to believe that, I never thought he was capable of violence before, but now…now…something about him worries me. It keeps me awake at night.” He pauses. “It scares the hell out of me, because he’s so close to you.”

Trent. He means Trent. And I can’t disagree. “I don’t know what to do about him.”

“Don’t make him angry,” Aegon says urgently. “I’m not saying you have to do anything with him that you don’t want to, no, he doesn’t own you, he shouldn’t bully you into anything. I’m just saying to avoid confrontations. And try not to be alone with him.”

“I understand. I won’t make him angry.”

Aegon takes the Sharpie out of his pocket. “Here. Give me your arm.” You do so without any hesitation. He considers your left palm, then decides against it: too noticeable, too easy to get smudged. He pushes your sleeve up to your elbow and writes a phone number across the soft skin of your forearm in black ink. “This is for if he ever tries to do anything that you’re not cool with. Or if you just need to talk. Okay?”

“Okay,” you agree quietly.

He puts the cap on the Sharpie and tucks it away again. Out of the trees appears Sunfyre, panting and jubilant to see you both. He accepts pats and scratches and then heads back towards the campfire. You and Aegon follow him, walking close enough to touch each other but not daring to.

“You’re alive!” Heather rejoices when she sees you. And then she glowers at Aegon. “Get over here. I’m going to gut you like a deer, Greek boy.”

“It’s fine,” you say. “We talked, we’re friends again, everything’s good.”

“Really?” Kimmie asks hopefully.

“Yup,” Aegon says, standing beside her but making no eye contact.

“You better be.” Trent grins, hugs you—lifting you clear off the ground—and then notices where the branch gashed your cheek. “What happened to your face, babe?”

“Just a tree. I ran into it, it’s my fault. I can clean it up when I get home.”

“That’s the great thing about being a doctor,” Trent says brightly. “Even an animal doctor. You can fix almost anything yourself.”

You glance at Aegon, heavy with a steely grey fog like grief. “Yes. Almost anything.”

You ride home the same way you arrived to the hiking expedition, with Trent and Heather; Aegon and Sunfyre leave in Kimmie’s pink Land Cruiser. When you get inside, the first thing you do is write down Aegon’s phone number on a Post-it note and stick it inside the top drawer of your nightstand. You shower, tend to your shallow cut—“not too bad, ladybug,” your dad offers supportively, “not too bad at all”—and help your mom make dinner: reindeer sausage from Mr. Campbell’s farm, mashed potatoes, glazed carrots, broccolini, homemade chocolate bread for dessert. Not quite prime rib and lobster, you think dazedly, your mind swimming.

Hours later, as you lay in bed gazing up at your ceiling, you can’t stop hearing what Aegon said, his voice deep and raw and achingly beautiful. I want you all the time. I never for a single solitary goddamn second stop wanting you.

You get out the Post-it note, pick up the phone on top of your nightstand, dial the number for Aegon’s shabby little apartment on the other side of Juneau. He answers almost immediately. He’s very tipsy, but alert.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” you say softly, and only silence follows. You wring the phone’s blue spiral cord between restless fingers. “It’s—”

“I know who it is.” Now you can hear that he’s smiling. “What can I do for you, Appletini?”

“Tell me about San Diego.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything,” you say. And then again: “Everything.”

And that’s exactly what he does: he paints a vision with his words, he tells you about driving through the Mars-red canyons and peaks of the Laguna Mountains until you crest the top and see the Pacific Ocean, endless and sapphire blue and glittering under sunlight that bakes the shadows from your bones. He tells you about the surfers, the dolphins, the cliffsides, the sea lions, the sailboats, the hot air balloons and kites and parasailers, the historic district of the city that still remembers its origins as a Spanish fort and mission. You can almost see it; you can almost reach out and touch it.

You listen to Aegon until you fall asleep, the phone tumbling out of your grasp and onto the pillow beside you; and even then, your dreams are filled with him.

[magnus-sm-writes]

Magnus' Spooky Recommendations! 🎃

To get into the mood for today, here are Magnus’ favorite scary recommendations! I’m organizing them into sections for convenience. These are a combination of short stories, books, movies, and even a couple albums. Feel free to share your spooky recs; I love discovering new scary things to love!

Haunted Houses! 👻

“Stone Animals” by Kelly Link (mind-bending): A haunted house story that is so incredibly claustrophobic it made me dissociate the first two times I read it. Mind-bending is a good way to describe it. “Stone Animals” is a very long short story, but it’s such an atmospheric read that it doesn’t feel like it drags. A haunted house that drives the entire family living inside it nuts in unique ways. I highly recommend it, but don’t read it on an airplane like I did (the second time around).

Coraline (2009), dir. Henry Selick (childhood favorite): Neil Gaiman’s actions aside, the movie is a fantastic piece of media that enchanted baby Magnus and horrified his mother. The soundtrack is one of my favorite albums ever, and gets played in my car on multiple playlists all the time. It’s a classic for a reason, though not my favorite Laika film, because I refuse to let it top ParaNorman. 

Guts! Guts! Guts! 🩸

Alien Virus Love Disaster by Abby Mei Otis (gore, with feelings!): Take a dip into the grotesque with this gnarly short story collection from Small Beer press. The stories range from more emotional with less nasty bits (“Moonkids”, “Not an Alien Story”, “If You Could Be God of Anything”) to body horror (“I’m Sorry Your Daughter Got Eaten by a Cougar”) to a story that actually made me gag when I read it (“Rich People”). Otis has something for every lover of the grotesque in this collection.

Visions of Bodies Being Burned & There Existed an Addiction to Blood by clipping. (love letter to horror): A trippy, hair-raising pair of albums that brings horrorcore to clipping.’s industrial noiserap. (Yes, I am pretentious like that.) Two of the most interesting albums to ever be released. My favorite hits include “Enlacing”, “Blood of the Fang”, “Club Down”, “La Mala Ordina”, and “Looking Like Meat”. Daveed Diggs’ vocals are unmatched.

Hannibal, dir. Bryan Fuller (tasteful cannibalism): One of my favorite seasonal re-watches. Season one is my favorite, especially the mushroom episode. Some of the most beautiful cinematography on television I’ve ever seen. Also, fabulous gender-swapping of characters in Thomas Harris’ works.

Psychological! 🧠

You Too Can Have a Body Like Mine by Alexandra Kleeman (peel your skin off discomfort): This book is uncomfortable. It was part of my inspiration for my senior capstone project, Body, and it definitely shows. The main character’s roommate tries to become her. With targeted ads, weird cults, and a general sense of not belonging in your body, Kleeman really makes you want to peel off your skin to get a little more comfortable. (Or to see who’s really under there.)

Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk (mind-bending): Both the movie and the novel have left me stunned. Even if you know the twist through cultural osmosis, I highly recommend both. Another piece of media that has made me dissociate multiple times after consuming. While I’m not a fan of Palahniuk’s other works, he really hit it out of the park with Fight Club.

The Secret History by Donna Tartt (atmosphere to die for): A great piece of psychological literary fiction where bad people do bad things and reap the consequences. Is it a pretentious pick? Probably. But I still adore it. My mom adores it, and that means something, because she’s super picky about psychological horror. I’m making my grandmother read it. It’s a classic for a reason.

Witches, Magic, & Folk Horror! 🐈‍⬛

ParaNorman (2012), dir. Sam Fell & Chris Butler (love letter to horror): My senior yearbook quote was from this movie; I’ve written academic papers about this movie; I have Norman Babcock tattooed on my calf forever. Of course this movie would be on here. It’s a love letter to cheesy 80s horror movies. This movie is my ultimate comfort and my favorite feel-good movie to cry to.

The Witch (2015), dir. Robert Eggers (atmosphere to die for): The most accurate historical portrayal of Calvinist culture I’ve ever seen on screen, while being compelling. We watched this in my witches class. It’s genuinely one of the most perfect films on witches I’ve ever seen. 

The Ritual (2017), dir. David Bruckner (atmosphere to die for): If I could watch this again for the first time, I would choose it in a heartbeat. A top-tier piece of psychological horror that leaves you feeling like you’re right there with the characters. Moder is one of the best creatures I’ve ever seen, designed by Keith Thompson (who also designed Ratma in “Storm Drain” from VHS 94). 

“The Ghost You Left Behind” by Magnus Singer-McLeod (love letter to the genre): I have to promote my own short story here because this is my blog and I make the rules. We've got psychics, ghosts, missing people, demons, and a gay romance; it’s got a little bit of everything I love about the autumn season. I’m biased, but I highly recommend.

Eco-Horror! 🪲

“42”, Doctor Who (BURN WITH ME): A cheesy, time-sensitive eco-horror episode. It has all the best hallmarks of the RTD era, including my beloved Martha Jones. A fun watch!

Annihilation by Jeff VanderMeer (atmosphere to die for): The first time I read this book, I read it in a day. It’s a fast read I pull out when I’m in a slump and just need a weird, atmospheric read to pull me into the world of the Weird. Having a biologist as the main character makes the setting of Area X shine. She’s so deeply fascinated by the weird place she’s in that you’re pulled in just as much as she is. So fucking creepy. (Shoutout to the bear scene in the movie, which makes my skin crawl.)

Polar Trauma! ❄️

Solar Trauma by Philip Sorenson (peel your skin off discomfort): This poetry collection is loosely based on The Thing, and inspired my own hivemind poetry collection. It is so fucking good. Grotesque, psychological, uncomfortable. One of the strangest, most fascinating poetry collections I have ever had the pleasure of reading. 

The Thing (1982), dir. John Carpenter (perfect creature work): One of the greatest body horror films of all time. The practical effects are unmatched. A horror movie where everyone is intelligent, realistic, and untrustworthy. “The Ultimate in Alien Terror” doesn’t even begin to cover it. I will go through periods where I watch this movie every single night for a month without growing tired of it.

The Terror (2018), dir. David Kajganich & Soo Hugh (atmosphere to die for): As someone who’s read both the book and watched the show, just watch Wendigoon’s video on the topic instead of reading the novel for historical context, then watch the show. The creeping sense of dread is nearly unparalleled. Tuunbaq is one of the most terrifying creatures I’ve ever laid eyes on. Colonizers meet their fate, and it is both horrifically tragic and incredibly justified. Fantastic rewatch value.

[femmmie]

I just don't want to be perceived anymore

Author's note: I'm so sorry about this lmao. This is all FICTION

word count: 691 rating: general read on AO3

The room was brightly lit. Cloudy blue wallpaper, calathea plants on shelves, a cat purring in on a small soft stool.

"I guess it's just really hard, you know? Or, maybe not hard... It's weird. Off."

"Please, elaborate?"

The therapist's smile was kind, and Anthony felt at ease with her. He sat on the couch as she sat behind her desk, not facing him directly. It made him feel more relaxed.

"You see... I've been 'on camera' for twenty years now. Sure, I've had my ups and downs, different looks, different eras. Still..." Anthony scratched the back of his neck. "It's like every time I see myself on camera now, I can't help but measure it to my best days. So I always lose."

"Why do you compare yourself to past versions? They are never coming back."

"No, and that's the problem. I'm beginning to see my losing battle with time. Little wrinkles, different kind of face shape..."

"Face shape?" The therapist raised her eyebrow.

"I know, I'm being very vain. And I know it's a part of life and it happens to everyone, if they're lucky to live long enough. Except Oprah of course, she's Benjamin Buttonning."

"Anthony. Let's stay on topic. Obviously everyone ages. But you've done more than age. I'm talking about your tattoos."

Anthony looked at his arms. Long brush strokes ran all the way down them, even over his fingers. He turned his hands. One palm was entirely covered in ink. "I really like them."

"Obviously you do. But, do you think you getting them has something to do with your self-image?"

"I just really enjoy getting them set, and I feel like I am expressing a truth from within me, on the outside. So maybe it does."

You said you're comparing yourself. Did you do that before?"

"I did. I've really done it my entire life. I've never felt like I was enough..."

Anthony looked out of the window. It was a sunny day in California, like always.

"How come?"

"You know my life's story by now, you know why. I can't help it, and I really am trying to work through it, but I don't want to broadcast an embarrassing set of displays of mental breakdown like I did when I first left."

"Left?"

"Smosh."

"Right. Is that all, though?"

"No, of course not."

"Please, Anthony, don't make me pry it out of you." The therapist shot Anthony a look and he laughed.

"Alright. So. I just don't want to be perceived anymore. This last year has been so so good, truly. Buuuut, I've also noticed myself falling into old patterns again. I keep trying to get validation from strangers, it's so addictive. I know better and still I keep doing it.

Anthony sighed.

"And now I have Ian back, it feels... sacred? What we have now, it's so special, truly, right? Like, we've won the lottery, we got our soulmates ending, we did the whole Your Name thing. And making the sketches together has been magical."

He fought back a sob.

"But when we're doing these public appearances, videos, podcasts and all the rest, people I don't know get to butt in on that sacred space. And I don't want them to see, you know? We're finally in such a good place and I don't want it to get contaminated."

The cat jumped from its stool and pushed it's little body against Anthony's tattooed calf. It purred loudly, and left Anthony no other choice than to pet it.

"Have you two done things together that you haven't shared with strangers online?"

Anthony's face lit up. "Yes, and those are the best days. We're in fact planning a short trip to Europe together right now."

"That's good. And do you think this holiday will make you feel differently about all of this?"

"No. In fact, I have made up my mind. I am taking a step back. I will be on screen a little, here and there, but that's it. It's been a long career. And I am ready to retire."

"Fair enough. How does that make you feel?"

"At peace, honestly. At peace."

[buckysmith]

kinda want a matchup now 👀

i’m around 5’7 (don’t know the specifics lol), black wavy hair that comes down to under my jaw with some bangs (that i definitely need to trim oops). i’m honestly kinda underweight due to health issues. i dress in a goth/grunge love child way, tattoos (a crow half sleeve, a floral sleeve, two calf tattoos, a bee on my thigh, and a lil cartoon ghost on my ribs) and two nose piercings (septum and nostril). i have hazel eyes with central heterochromia :))

i’m pretty introverted, but very very talkative with people i’m close with. i have adhd so sometimes i just say shit because my mouth works and my brain doesn’t stop me. i’m very impulsive but in harmless ways. i really enjoy astronomy and the arts. currently into a lot of 70’s folk music (csny type stuff). my biggest love language is acts of service. im on the spectrum so being smothered with physical affection is very overwhelming. im pretty blunt and honest, and i don’t like having to decipher what someone is trying to say. i play guitar and bass with a preference for the latter.

<3

He’s not directly in MW2 but I think Keegan would fit for you

He’s not really the one that likes to being touched your to touch someone, it overwhelms him greatly.

You wouldn’t really show interest in you but would constantly watch over you, trying to protect you from all the evil

(You know that song “yes to heaven” the part with I’ve got my eye on you would apply to you)

He’s not really good in human terms, he acts strange, stares a lot and little to no not say anything, his love language is gift giving or acts of services and slight words of affirmation

Something you own broke down? He gets it for you. You need help in the house or you have a appointment on the other side of the city? He helps you and drives you to it

He doesn’t talk much as I said but he loves to listen to him, you can say the stupidest things god ever heard and he still sits somewhere listen to you with a smile in his eyes

The little ghost on your rip? He loves it.

He loves your style too, if you send him a pic of your outfit for today he tells you how beautiful you look in it or just use emoji’s (like a parent yk?)

[kilannad]

As the Stars Burn On Chapter 32

Masterlist. Ao3. Discord.

The Thousand Sunny

The party swung to life with a roar. The Galley-La company had an outdoor pool behind their headquarters and decided that with the funeral over, it was time to celebrate the living. Besides which, Luffy ordered a victory party, and none of them would dare mutiny. With Robin back, everyone awake and as healed as they could be, they had no more reason to delay.

Not even Luffy bitching about them all getting tattoos without him could ruin the good mood. Lucy wished she could be surprised, but in the aftermath of Enies Lobby, she thought they all wanted the reminder of where they belonged. Zoro had gotten his stretched across the left side of his chest, reaching over to cover part of his arm; Nami’s was on her left thigh and Robin’s on her right calf; Chopper and Lily had both gotten it on their chests, so that it’d stretch when they shifted forms; Usopp, taking a cue from Lucy, had put his on his arm, just under the shoulder; Sanji had put his on his right hand. Luffy was highly offended they hadn’t waited for him to be up so he could also get a one, but the fact that they’d need seastone in order for him to get any tattoo anyway seemed to calm him down. He was determined to get one at the soonest opportunity though. 

The water felt good against her skin, washing away the stress and tension. Usopp was singing some god-awful song about Sniper Island, Zoro and Sanji were arguing, Paulie was bright red and complaining, loudly, about Nami's bathing suit. Lucy cut through the water, coming up not far from where Robin was lounging, smiling quietly as she watched the crew. Her locket hung around her neck, the carved tree glinting in the sun, the last heirloom of Ohara. Lucy stopped at the edge of the water, sending a splash up.

"Dereshishi!" Robin laughed. "I suppose I deserve that."

"There's nothing to forgive," Lucy told her. "But if I can ask...why didn't you tell me, when you found out about the Stone Keys?"

Robin sighed, rubbing the necklace. "That last moment, the only time my mother hugged me, she pressed it into my hand and told me it was the heart of Ohara and for as long as it was safe, our legacy would live on with me. I...I should've given it to you. I nearly did, on Skypiea."

"It's alright," Lucy promised. "I can understand wanting to protect the last thing your mother gave you. Hóu said you kept good care of his Key. I think he'll be glad to meet you, when you're ready for it."

Robin swallowed heavily, nodding. "Thank you."

"Whatever you need, Robin."

"Well," she drew out, "Since you're offering...Care to explain what's been happening with the dragons while I was gone? They seem to be getting very friendly."

Lucy's face went red and she lowered herself deeper into the water to hide. It only earned another laugh from Robin. Sensing drama was happening, Nami seemed to appear from nowhere.

"Oh, this has to be about Laxus and Gajeel."

"Do you two ever stop?"

"Will you ever stop hiding and sleep with them?" Nami shot back.

The thought--the idea of being in bed, with both of them, naked--made steam come out of her ears. Lucy wasn't ashamed about still being a virgin, but she would be a liar if she said she hadn't considered it. Often.

"You know sex isn't the issue," Lucy complained.

"Lucy," Robin soothed. "I have lived many years in many places, and not once have I seen people who cared about each other the way those two care about you. If you'd only try, I think you'd find them very much in your reach."

It eased something in her, some curled up fear left over from days as 'Lady' Lucy. She was so used to people wanting her for her body or her fortune that even though she knew Laxus and Gajeel cared about her, it was hard to remember, sometimes.

"We want you happy," Nami told her. Then, smirking, she added, "And just to be sure; I told Franky that you three needed a room together."

"You what?!"

"Don't worry. He said, I quote, 'I ain't dumb, I planned the soundproofing for their room first'. So, you know."

"Does everyone think we're already in a relationship?"

"Yes."

Lucy splashed water towards them, then dived away to cool off. They were right. She knew they were right but...for all her confidence she was nervous. Anxious. She'd managed a handful of dates during her year in Magnolia and had never met the same person twice. She was too awkward, too unsure of how to handle a normal relationship. At the end of the day, she'd been raised an heiress and hadn't been taught dating; she'd always expected for a match to be made for her, all the way up until she ran away. Besides, the three of them were so entangled already, she didn't even know how to approach the topic.

She came up, gasping for air and wiping water from her eyes. The sun was starting to go down, the party tipping away from 'fun celebration' and toward 'drunk crowd'. Lifting herself up and out, she spied Gajeel stepping behind one of the corners where she knew some chairs were tucked away in the shade.

At her side, Aquarius's Key seemed to glow spitefully.

"Yeah, yeah." Lucy pressed a towel to her face, trying to think calming thoughts. She knew they'd say yes, no matter what she said. She did. She just...might combust before she got that far.

Moving before she could over think anymore, she patted herself dry and dumped the towel on a table. An arm bloomed, giving a thumbs up before vanishing in a flourish of petals. With no plan but as ready as she'd ever be, she wove her way through the crowd.

It was quieter in the back, a handful of beach chairs tucked away in a corner out of sight and in some semblance of peace. Gajeel was laid out across one in his black swim shorts and nothing else, his piercings still dripping water. His eyes were closed, but when she stepped closer he snatched up her wrist without looking and tugged her over until she stretched out next to him.

Despite herself, his touch eased her tension and she was glad for him pulling her close. Nami could tease her for it all she wanted, but Lucy was always calmer these days in Gajeel or Laxus's arms.

"What's wrong?" he murmured.

"Who said anything was wrong?"

"I can smell your stress, Bunny." He cracked an eye open, the slitted pupil wide in the shadow. "Is it your bounty?"

Fuck, she'd almost forgotten about that. She'd never heard of an 'only alive' bounty and she couldn't fathom why the number was so high. "There are Emperor Commanders with lower bounties than me," she admitted. "I just don't get it."

His arm tightened around her waist, drawing her closer against him. She buried his face in his shoulder, feeling the steady beat of his pulse. "We'll figure it out, Bunny."

She trusted him, but she didn't know if it would be that easy. There were too many things lately; her bounty, creating a Key, the mark on her back. She needed a distraction or she'd start spiraling.

"What do I smell like?"

"What?"

"You said you can smell my stress. What's that like?"

He chuckled, twisting his head to take a deep breath of her hair. "Normally, you smell like eucalyptus and spearmint--your soap. Then there's the layer of hormones and things that everyone has; that's what lets us know your emotions. If it's sour, you're afraid; bitter means stress or anger, depending on the situation; if you smell...sparkly, then you're about to cast."

"Sparkly?" she teased. "What do sparkles smell like, exactly?"

"Don' know, but you manage it, Bunny. It's just what your magic smells like to us." His gaze went a little distant. "It was so thick when you saved Merry I could've bitten into it. Like a physical thing pressing down all around us."

She swallowed, pressing a hand to his jaw to draw him back to her. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you."

"You did, Luce. Just...be careful what magic you call on."

"Okay." She bumped their foreheads together. Trying to lighten the mood, she said, "What about sweet? Do I ever smell like that?"

Instead of laughing like she expected, his nose flared as his pupils dilated further. His voice roughened, dropping down as his hand clenched around her hip. "Only smelled ya sweet once," he murmured. "When we first met up on Water 7."

It didn't take her long to put together the pieces. Of course two dragon slayers could smell when she was aroused, she didn't know why she expected otherwise. It certainly explained Laxus's smugness afterward, though by Gajeel's voice she guessed it did as much for them as watching them fight did for her.

It was a peculiar kind of power, she realized. The ability to make two of the strongest, most controlled people she knew get distracted simply by her scent. The knowledge that they wanted her the way she wanted them. That--knowing they were equals in this in every way--made her next question so much easier.

She tilted her head, pressing their noses together. Beneath her hands, Gajeel went perfectly still, eyes tracking her every twitch without daring to move an inch, lest he go uninvited.

"Kiss me?"

Gajeel dragged a hand slowly up her arm, fingers gliding back into her hair and gently tugging her head back as he leaned down and finally--finally--kissed her. He kept it gentle and sweet, giving a single nip to her bottom lip so she'd let him in. She moaned against the first swipe of his tongue, hand gripping at his shoulder and feeling the flex of his muscles. Lucy pressed closer, flicking her tongue against the sharp point of his canine; he growled, fingers digging in as he shifted their angle, going deeper and harder. Her head spun, every inch of her attention falling on the points of their bodies, the glide of his tongue, the taste of his lips.

Another hand, larger and hotter, prickling at her skin with almost-static, dragged up her back. She shifted, baring her throat and whining despite herself. Laxus pressed kisses up her back, nipping at the pulse in her neck when he'd found his way there.

Gajeel pulled back, eyes flicking across her face then over her shoulder. "Don' break her skin," he warned. Lucy was too far gone to understand what he was asking, but Laxus hummed an assent.

Lucy leaned back, finding Laxus hovering over her, panting and wide-eyed. His tongue flicked out, chasing something on his lips. "Can I-?" He didn't finish, but she didn't need him to. She pulled him down until he was close enough, arching back and up to kiss. Gajeel dragged his lips down her neck, her collarbone, her chest, his canines leaving hot trails, just a touch away from painful.

Laxus had none of the patience of Gajeel but all of the same skill. He kissed hard and deep, leaving her desperate for air and completely unwilling to part. Gajeel shifted them, hauling her up until she was straddling him and more able to twist and meet Laxus without hurting her back. For a long while she lost track of herself, falling into the warm sensations of their touch.

☉

Lucy curled deeper under the covers, the soft sheets dragging across her skin as she buried herself into Laxus's chest. Behind her, Gajeel shifted closer, his arm a hot band across her stomach. She was vaguely aware that there was sun shining from somewhere and she should probably get up, but she was too warm and comfortable, her limbs heavy and loose, even in the places that were sore.

Distantly, she heard a door open. Gajeel lifted his head, giving a short, menacing growl that reverberated through her back. The door closed.

Through the walls, audible even to her human ears, she heard Usopp shout, "Alright, who had money on during Water 7?"

"Ha!" Nami yelled. "I knew it!"

Lucy groaned but decided to ignore them. She could be mad about them betting on her sex life later.

☉

"So it's true you're building their new ship," Paulie breathed, walking up alongside Tilestone and Lulu.

"What are you idiots doing here?" Franky demanded.

"What, you think we'll let you make a mess of their ship after they got revenge for Iceburg?" Paulie snorted.

"When was the last time you built a ship?" Lulu demanded. "And this is a rush order, you'll need help."

"You think I want help from some two-bit shipwrights?" Franky spat, glaring at them all over his glasses.

"We studied under Iceburg," Paulie said, lighting his cigar. "He'd be here himself if he could."

They were right and Franky knew it. With Iceburg and Tom dead, Kokoro was the only one who knew his dream from all those years ago. Iceburg had laughed, but Tom, as always, had simply told him to do it with a gusto. And for all that he loved his guys, Franky knew none of them could build something this complicated. They were having enough trouble fixing the Franky House from the damage left by Aqua Laguna.

"So," Paulie demanded. "Where are those blueprints?"

"Fine but if you fuck this up, I'm SUPER tossing you into the ocean."

☉

"Do you really think it's her?"

"Who else?"

"Then this era is more dangerous than any other. We must be vigilant."

"We have withstood for eight hundred years and we will withstand for another thousand. One Heartifilia couldn't stop us then, and she won't do it now."

☉

Kuzan pushed off from the wall, having seen all he needed to. For years, he'd wondered if Saul had been right, always questioning Justice and how he served it. Now, it seemed he had his answer.

Nico Robin would live her life for those who came before her and those who protected her now. Her choice had been made.

Now he just had to make his.

☉

Jonathan leaned against the railing of his ship, considering the distant figure of G-8 raising from the ocean. His showing in helping evacuate Enies Lobby had bought him time, but little else. More than ever, he had to consider what he served. Nico Robin continued to haunt him, and likely would for days to come.

☉

"Don't you want to see them, Koby?"

"Of course, Helmeppo. But I'm not strong enough yet. I'm a marine and he's a pirate; one day, I'm going to have to arrest him."

"You think you'll be strong enough?"

"Yeah. One day, I'm going to be an Admiral. Then I'll be able to arrest the Pirate King."

"You're crazy Koby."

"If you don't want to-"

"Oh I'm staying. A crazy bastard like you? I've gotta watch your back."

"Heh. Thanks."

☉

Lucy breathed deeply as the breeze passed over her. The air was getting colder as Water 7 headed towards their winter season, the water still choppy. Aqua Laguna may be the worst storm they'd get, but it marked the beginning of their rainy season. Out here, on the little scrap of land that they had first docked at, the world felt strange. It was the same land, if still a little muddy. The same ocean pushing against the shore. Yet somehow, everything had changed. Her back prickled each time she reached for her magic, her bounty hanging over her head. Their crew had publicly declared war on the government and now had a collective bounty over 2.1 billion berries. There were New World veterans who didn't have a bounty that high. They'd tasted that sort of strength against Aokiji and been thoroughly outclassed; she couldn't even win against a Vice Admiral. 

In her hand, Merry's Key seemed to vibrate. Lucy didn't know what form she'd take, or what powers, if any, she'd carry. There were no stories to guide her and no memory of her mother whispering in her ear. Only the newly forged Key in her hands, a fresh constellation created in the night sky, and the bubbling strength of her magic in her chest. Laxus had explained Second Origin to her and she could feel the edges where her magic had gotten deeper, bigger. It'd only grow from there.

Behind her, Usopp shifted in place, the whole crew present to watch and say hello once more to their nakama who had given her life for them. Lucy figured she should stop making them wait. She stepped into the ocean, the water cold against her ankles.

“I am linked to the path to the world of Celestial Spirits, now! O spirit, answer my call and pass through the gate! Open, Gate of the Klabautermann, Going Merry!"

Her magic tightened, almost hesitant, then channeled through the Key. It was like summoning a Gold or Stone; a Spirit she knew, instantly, was unique and special and the magic demanded a price for the exchange. Merry wasn't nearly as strong as Loke or Aquarius or even Mă, but there was a weight to her energy, a strength so at odds with her struggling in her final moments. In the water just in front of her, a gold circle appeared, and in a shimmering light, the first Wood Spirit materialized.

Merry as a Spirit was both just like herself in life and yet so different. Short and slim like her Klabautermann, the hood of her yellow raincoat was pushed off, revealing a puff of white hair with two curling horns and a wide, bright smile. Her eyes were completely black, as if her pupil had fully taken over and she wore striped red leggings and a black shirt, a wooden mallet hooked on a little tool belt around her waist. She sank into the water, kicking her feet to make it splash as she laughed long and loud, just like their captain did.

"Shishishi! Glad to officially meet you, Lucy Heartifilia!"

Lucy had to press her hand over her mouth, tears welling up before she could stop them. The blood and injuries she'd carried in life were gone, leaving her looking like nothing more than a happy, if strange, little girl. If it weren't for the connection to her magic, Lucy could almost believe she was still alive. Almost.

"Merry!" Usopp rushed forward, sweeping her up into a hug and suddenly the whole crew was there, passing her around for hugs and pats, as many tears flowing now as when she'd gone down at sea. Lucy couldn't stop crying, no matter how hard she tried, caught between the joy of Merry's existence and the cost it would come at. She knew, better than anyone, what price Spirits paid for their immortality. Several of her Spirits had served Layla, only to watch her die. Aries had been horribly abused, and she had no doubt the rest had their fair share of cruel masters. Merry would be protected for as long as Lucy lived, but inevitably, there would come a day she'd die, as those before her did. When that happened, she could make no promises about Merry's safety.

Luffy kneeled down, gripping Merry's thin shoulders. "I'm glad you're okay, Merry. You were the best ship we could've hoped for."

"Thank you, Cap'n," she saluted. "I'm ready to serve whenever called on." She dropped her hand, grinning sheepishly at Lucy. "Uh, if you want to make a contract with me, that is."

Lucy couldn't help but laugh. "I think that's meant to be my question." She stepped forward, offering a hand out. "What do you say, Merry? Want to keep sailing with us?"

"More than anything," she swore. She gripped Lucy's hand, brow setting into fierce determination. "I may be the newest, but I've been caught up to date by the others. My power over ships is yours, Lucy Heartifilia, for as long as the stars burn on."

Something about the words stuck out, more than they usually did. She'd had the thought, what felt like years ago, that Mă was more formal than the Gold Keys and it'd held true for all the Stone Keys. Now, having created a Key herself and having met her ancestor, after a fashion, she wondered what secret was hidden in that phrase. She felt like she had a hundred piece puzzle scattered around her, but couldn't see the picture. Maybe she wouldn't until she was at the end of the world.

Lucy wavered on her feet, Laxus cursing as he balanced her. "I told you it was too soon," he muttered. "Now will you please get some rest before doing any more serious summoning?"

She grimaced, but had to admit he was right. For all that the well of her magic was bigger, it hadn't finished refilling in the aftermath of Enies Lobby. She was already exhausted again, like her magic was taking a physical toll. Merry waved goodbye as her Gate closed, leaving the crew gathered at the edge of the sea.

"Thank you," Usopp said, wiping his face. "Thank you for saving her, Lucy."

"I didn't," she had to admit. "Not really. I just...gave her a second life. She won't ever be able to go back to how things were."

"That's alright," Luffy decided. "She's still with us, and that's what matters."

Even Lucy had to admit that was fair.

"Oi!" From the edge of the city, Zambai waved them down. "Oi, Straw Hats! Come on. Your ship is ready!"

☉

It didn't take them long to rush to Scrap Heap Island where they'd been thoroughly banned. Franky had told them it wasn't right for any of them to see the ship before he'd completed her and since he'd announced his intention to build their ship, none of them had seen him except during the party. The eleven of them gaped at the sight of the massive tarp covering something in the water, Paulie panting on the ground in front of it. Groaning, he pushed himself to his feet.

"Gotta admit, I thought he was nuts when I saw the blueprints." He lit himself a new cigar, hands shaking. "But nuts or not, we got it done."

"Where is he?!" Luffy demanded, vibrating.

"He took off," Paulie said. "Went back to the Franky House, I think."

"Did he still need to pack?" Chopper guessed.

"So you have invited him to join. I figured you might."

The crew looked at him, each with various levels of 'are you dumb?'.

"He's our shipwright," Lucy pointed out.

"Duh," Gajeel agreed.

"It's fairly obvious," Lily added.

"Why would I need to tell him that?" Luffy finished.

Paulie gaped for a moment, before shaking his head. "That's on you to deal with. I'm just here to show you this." He grabbed a fistful of the tarp, grinning at them. "He did tell me to say one thing though. 'If you're going to be the King of Pirates, then it's only right you have the King of Beasts!'"

The tarp fell away and all of them were left gasping at the ship--the masterpiece--before them. It was huge, to start, over three times as big as Merry, long and sitting low on the water, with three square rigged sails. The most massive, in the center, was painted with their jolly roger, their flag flying in pride of place on top of all three masts. Painted red and white, the two anchors in the form of massive yellow paws. The figure head, a smiling lion--or possibly sunflower, it was hard to tell--was immediately claimed by Luffy as his new seat. On the side, there was a round wooden piece painted with a black '1'. When they boarded, Lucy found the deck covered in actual grass, Nami's tangerine trees planted on the uppermost deck in the back. It had a full library, huge bathroom, workout room in the lookout, five-star kitchen, an aquarium and lounge, an infirmary with an attached room for Chopper and a space for experiments, to say nothing of the bedrooms. While Chopper had a bed for when he needed to spend the night in the infirmary with a patient, the women's room consisted of two sets of bunk beds, with a walk-in closet. The men's quarters were similarly outfitted with a dozen beds, plus a set of hammocks that descended from the ceiling when required. Nami hadn't been lying either; there was a separate bedroom on the bottom level, tucked away at the front of the ship and away from everyone else, for Lucy and the dragon slayers which involved one truly massive bed, and plenty of space for their things.

In every aspect, it was a ship built for them in every way, the love and care put into it a physical thing. Usopp was in tears over the work room on the bottom level (an extra room for Franky attached) and drooling over the series of cannons and guns lining each side.

"It's a man o'war," Paulie explained. "Bigger than we usually make them, in case your crew expands some more, and with several modifications Franky designed. She'll be faster than any ship I've ever seen though; Adam Wood is lighter than almost anything I've worked with."

"She's perfect," Nami breathed.

"Now we just need Franky," Luffy decided. "Ne, Nami? Which way to the Franky House?"

☉

Meanwhile, running through town, a naked cyborg was chasing after his thug underlings to get his speedo back. Sadly, this was not the start of some joke, but rather the initiative for many parents to start therapy funds for their children.

"You idiots!" Franky roared. "I ain't joining that crew."

"Get to the ship!" Zambai called. "Just one of us needs to make it."

He tossed the speedo away, caught by one of his brothers just as Franky ran him over. The chase continued, twisting through the entire city, the most memorable game of keep-away that the island had ever seen.

On one of the roofs, Luffy waved at the Franky Family. "Oi, toss it here!"

"Luffy!" Franky yelled as he caught the speedo. "Did you see the ship?"

"Yeah she's perfect," Luffy called back. "But we can't sail until we have the full crew."

"I'm sorry I can't come," Franky said, honestly apologetic. Luffy laughed in his face.

"You will."

☉

Lucy had never wanted to see what recruiting a naked cyborg in public looked like, but she could now cross it off from her bucket list and put it squarely on her 'never again' list. With Franky properly blackmailed into joining, the crew could finally set off peacefully.

"We've got trouble!" Sanji announced, running up the gangplank. "Luffy, your grandpa's back and I don't think he's leaving peacefully this time."

Or maybe not, because Lucy was cursed.

"Drop the sails!" Nami ordered, sending Chopper up to the helm as Zoro and Sanji began cranking the anchors back up.

"Wait!" Franky stopped. "We can't sail until we name her."

A cannonball crashed into the sea a few meters away, sending the ship rocking. "Can't it wait?" Lucy demanded.

"A maiden voyage without a name is cursed," Franky insisted.

"I got it!" Luffy announced. "Bear! Polar Bear! Lion!"

"That's awful!"

From the distance, projected over a den den announcer, Garp yelled, "Luffy! Sorry kid, but Sengoku got mad and is demanding I bring you in."

"Is that Aokiji on the ship with him?" Gajeel called. "Will this guy ever fuck off?"

"What about Monsieur Sunflower?"

"That's just as bad!"

"If we want French, we should go with Etoile Filante."

"You're all terrible," Usopp complained.

"Well then what would you name it?"

Zoro leapt into the air, slicing a canon that Garp had casually tossed to pieces. "Can we speed this up?"

Usopp hummed, staring at the sunflower--lion--figurehead. He snapped his fingers. "I got it. The king taking us across a thousand seas, for a thousand sun rises, for all of our dreams. I present the Thousand Sunny!"

"Wow," Lucy whistled. "That's...actually really good."

"The Thousand Sunny," Luffy grinned. "Shishishi, I like it!"

"I'm so glad," Nami gritted out. The marine ship, with a massive dog figurehead, was closing in and Garp was visibly contemplating which of the thousand well polished cannonballs to toss next. "Can we please go now?!"

"Sure thing," Franky assured. "Just raise the sails and leave it to me."

"Are you nuts?!"

"Don't worry, big sis." He flipped his glasses up, grinning. "Ain't nobody know this ship better than me."

Trusting in his plan, the crew rushed to lift the sails, Lily and Zoro knocking cannons away as they did. Just as Garp hauled out a massive ball and chain, the size Merry once was, the ship began vibrating under their feet. Laxus tilted his head, before wrapping a hand around a rope.

"Franky says to hold on!"

The back of the ship, where a massive round tube was just slightly sticking out, began to glow; then stronger, the whole ship shaking. "Holyshit," Lucy breathed.

From beneath, she could just make out Franky shouting. "Ready for the SUPER escape plan; COUP DE BURST."

The sky went dark under the titanic cannonball just as the energy released with a roar of power and the Thousand Sunny, making her maiden voyage, flew into the air and away from Water 7.

[bigqueervillain]

TW: Miscarriage, grief

So I had a miscarriage at 5 weeks on Friday. It's ongoing. I feel like a giant, sad sack of blood.

I've had a miscarriage once before when I was pretty deep in addiction and very mentally unwell. Back then though I didn't even know that I was pregnant, and I wasn't trying to get pregnant. So I counted it as a blessing. This time the circumstances couldn't be more different.

I really wanted this pregnancy, this baby. Rachael and I both did. I'm sure that most of it was hormone driven, but even so I was so excited and so happy and so ready. I had Christmas announcements to our families all planned out because I'm a control freak. I was anticipating so much joy coming our way. And instead we got this.

When I called the midwife on Friday, she was very sweet and kind and gentle. But it was just so hard to hear my fears confirmed. "Is this your first baby? Oh you must have been so excited. It's really just a late period at this stage though, so unless you start to feel sick it should pass okay" keeps ringing in my ears. It's trauma. I know it. I've had enough of it over the years that I intimately know the way it winds through and sticks in my brain. There are things that stay with you in trauma and grief, even when they'd normally be so innocuous in any other situation. The things that are said ring in your ears whether you want them to or not.

And it is passing through me. That's the fucked up gothic primal animal horror and beauty of it. When you become pregnant, the only way out is through no matter what stage you're at when it ends. I'm pro choice and I always will be, but all the viscera coming out of me had the potential to be my baby in August. And I feel like I owe that potential the duty of witnessing and grieving every bit that comes out of me. When it started, I reached into the fucking toilet to touch it and make sure. There's really no mistaking pregnancy tissue though. It's hard and looks like string with little baby grapes attached to it. Like a vine from an alien nightmare orchard.

I keep thinking of sad art that's stuck with me over the years. The fucking two headed calf; so short lived but still so cherished while it lasted. Maybe I'll get it tattooed. The Johanna reprise from Sweeney Todd; "and though I'll think of you I guess until the day I die, I think I'll miss you less and less as everyday goes by." Sondheim really knew how to get to the heart of a very specific emotion. Fucking hell.

And maybe all of this is incredibly maudlin and dramatic. I tend towards that in times of extreme emotion, which I worry makes the whole thing tedious for other people to experience along with me. And it was so early and really is just a very late, very heavy period. But this grief is mine goddammit. No one can tell me how to feel or how to navigate through it. I would have protected this kid with my life had they been born, and I feel like I have to follow through with that promise even if it'll never come to fruition.

I'm left with all this blood. My body feels like a fucking graveyard. Going to the bathroom, standing up, sneezing, coughing are all reminders, so I don't even have the courtesy of long periods of distraction from it. I feel like next time we try I won't even be able to be excited when we get a positive test, because I'll be so afraid of losing it again. We had that exciting positive pregnancy test moment already with this one, and now that memory's tainted. Next time I'm going to feel cautious and afraid, instead of happy and hopeful. I know myself enough to know that. I know I have to force myself to process my emotions and heal through this so I can enjoy pregnancy when it happens again. And it will happen again. We're not going to stop trying; Rach and I both want to be parents too much for that. But I hate this part. It's just so fucking unfair.

A close friend of mine is lowkey a very powerful medium/witch. She told me that this is all confusing because she can feel our baby working hard to come through, that they want us as parents and want to come earthside and live. And I believe her. Her partner is our sperm donor so she's attached to it in some way too. And I know that any child of mine is going to be stubborn and strong willed and unstoppable.

And then I think of my (unfortunately) Catholic upbringing and my own spirituality. I believe that creation is a god realm, even if I don't believe all the pro choice bullshit that comes along with it. So I have to believe that this loss has purpose. But I don't know what that purpose is, other than to make me afraid and sad. But then maybe there isn't any purpose in it and that's just part of the awesome swirling chaos that is life on this goddamn bitch of an earth and I have to accept that for what it is.

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, etc.

Anyway if you've read this far, thank you. I don't expect anyone to read this. It's mostly rambling nonsense. Writing has long been how I process my emotions. The best way. Sitting alone with headphone and screaming it all out on a keyboard is healthy for me. I'm just...metaphorically licking my wounds and shyly casting my hurt into the internet in the hopes that it'll swirl around and leave me for good.

[chamomileteainabuttercup]

I posted 1,826 times in 2022

233 posts created (13%)

1,593 posts reblogged (87%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@beboots

@staranon95

@spockvarietyhour

@asexualdindjarin

@dad-galaxy

I tagged 1,748 of my posts in 2022

Only 4% of my posts had no tags

#the mandalorian - 370 posts

#star wars - 356 posts

#dincobb - 277 posts

#the book of boba fett - 267 posts

#din djarin - 207 posts

#steddie - 196 posts

#cobb vanth - 177 posts

#boba fett - 174 posts

#bobf spoilers - 94 posts

#tbobf spoilers - 91 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#when both yodito and jolene (i’m calling the rancor jolene since they didn’t have the common decency to follow up on the ‘what are we going

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

May I just say

what the hell sort of ecological niche is that, being a lizard that scurries up people’s noses and leads them on a mystic quest to find one of the few remaining trees on Tatooine and retrieve a branch to make into a personalised weapon as part of their coming of age or cultural initiation?

how do you evolve into that?

340 notes - Posted January 7, 2022

#4

Two new jobs for Din Djarin:

1) interpreting and translating alien languages in meetings and correspondence

2) listening to Boba Fett talk about his dreams

361 notes - Posted January 2, 2022

#3

feel fairly strongly that Eddie is the sort to wrap at least one and preferably both legs around Steve at every opportunity

in contexts like: Steve hugs him, Eddie promptly climbs him like a tree and locks both legs round his waist

Steve sits next to him on the couch and Eddie immediately throws one leg over his thigh and/or hooks it round behind his calf

Steve gets tripped at least three times a day by Eddie sidling up and trying to do some awkward linking ankles thing he is worse than a cat

"Goddamnit, Eddie!"

"Two limbs just aren't enough to hold you with, dude. And till I can grow a prehensile tail, we've gotta make do."

1,043 notes - Posted October 17, 2022

#2

happy for the people enjoying punk Steve lately and genuinely not criticising them, only expressing a different thought in parallel (I hate how saying "genuinely not criticising" can make it sound even more passive-aggressive but I'm genuinely genuinely not criticising! I'm not suggesting other people are liking my favourite character wrong that would be so douchey)

I just always like the idea that Steve isn't, like, repressing a secret desire to be unconventional and join some kind of counterculture and one day start showing his true, wilder self in his fashion and grooming choices

that the way he looks is literally just what he's like

you could give him total freedom of choice and tell him to go hog wild and he'd still be chumping around in polos and light-wash jeans

they're comfortable and he likes how he looks

he likes sports and cars and his favourite Star Wars movie remains the one with the teddy bears

any "unconventional" stuff he does is very subtle and minor like he was indeed wearing a touch of strawberry lip gloss in the summer of 1985 because he needed a little cheer-me-up and he felt like the blue uniform washed him out, he's a warm autumn for god's sake he shouldn't be wearing blue

he would get, like, one ear pierced and wear a small plain gold stud and he'd feel very special about it

Eddie: gradually filling up his whole skin with increasingly elaborate tattoos

Steve: got a little heart with "E+S" in it on his inside forearm where it's not conspicuous but he can take a look at it and smile to himself any time he wants

he's not holding back this is just what he needs (and he thinks Eddie's tattoos and hair and jewellery and et cetera et cetera are badass and beautiful)

1,454 notes - Posted November 21, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I like to think of Steve relying on Eddie as his nerd interpreter when the conversation starts to get over his head. Instead of having to ask the kids what a lycanthrope is, he just kind of sidles over and gives a "???" look to Eddie who leans in and whispers a quick explanation without making him look dumb to everyone. This works great when the subjects under discussion are related to Eddie's hobbies and interests but sometimes they turn more academic, because these kids are science nerds as well as science fiction nerds, and when he "???"s at Eddie, Eddie whispers, "Super flattered you think I might know, but remember my grades are worse than yours." Then he takes the bullet for Steve by asking the dumb question out loud so he can hear the answer too.

On one occasion Lucas makes a sports analogy, Eddie looks baffled and doesn't even have time to look for Steve before he's whispering to him all excited because he can finally help him back.

7,421 notes - Posted November 26, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[diaryofageminivenus]

14 - Tatted up

i have to stop having sex with men who don't even know my last name, this is getting out of hand. what makes me say that? I had sex with my tattoo artist after only meeting him three times. let's talk about my recent encounter with Z (yes another Z). I met Z through Instagram when I was searching for a new tattoo artist since my first one moved to another city. I came across his page I thought he was cute, but his work was amazing I also decided that it was time for me to book my appointment. the first appointment was for my spine tattoo, I saw him in person and thought to myself "Yeah, I like him". From that day forward I just had an inkling that we would have sex one day.

I recently booked Z to do my leg tattoo and I just had thoughts in my head about us having sex. when I arrived it was quite awkward especially because he rescheduled me to a later time instead of me getting my tattoo at my original time. he came and was the only one there (besides me), so the place was pretty quiet. He apologized to me about his tardiness, but I truly did not care I just wanted my tattoo. we end up talking while he's doing my tattoo and I keep joking with him telling him that the tattoo hurts and that he's hurting me. he's joking back calling me a crybaby and I just feel the tension between us getting thicker. I had to get something done to the back of my leg so he tells me to turn around and while he is doing my calf tattoo he ends up kinda grazing my butt a lil bit. after he was done with that part, we just stopped to talk and get to know each other. he's telling me the basic details of his life, I'm telling him the basics of my life and then we just dive into a deeper conversation until I cut it off because it was already 4am at this point and I had work at 6. I had more to do with my tattoo so I scheduled an appointment with him.

The day of my appointment comes around and I'm just excited, I'm freshly waxed, I exfoliated beforehand, I smell like vanilla, and I just got my hair done. I walk into his suite and he says "Hey crybaby", I really like it when he calls me that for some reason. I then said "Hey (name)" because his name is just so beautiful. he was silent for a minute while printing out the stencil which I thought was weird because we were having such a good conversation the last time. he then starts tattooing me and we're just there not talking, listening to his music. he finishes two parts of my tattoo (I'm getting a whole leg piece), and then he stops so he can charge his tattoo gun. while he's setting up his station to start on another tattoo, we finally start talking again and then he says "Come outside with me while I smoke" " That was the moment that we just got into the deepest conversation ever. we head back into the suite and the conversation just starts flowing again and we are just lost in each other's minds at this point. I'm telling him things only my best friend knows, he's telling me things that I never knew. We start talking about cars and he's showing me this truck he really wants and while he's talking I'm picking at my tattoo from the first session. he notices and tells me to stop, I tell him "I always pick at my tattoos", and he tells me "Well don't do it in front of me".

we're just sitting on the couch still continuing with our conversation then I notice he has his TV off, I ask him "Does your TV work" he goes to his desk to get the remote and turns it on. he cuts on a movie and I start picking at my tattoo again because I knew he would say something about it. he does say something about it, but this time he pits his hands on me (in a flirty way omg), I'm moving his hands but that doesn't work because he leans in and kisses me. that caught me off guard but I returned the favor and kissed him back. he then gets on top of me and we just start kissing, he starts taking my shorts off and goes down to start eating me out. we're making eye contact the whole time he's eating me out, he came up one time and looked me in my eyes while he spit on my coochie and was playing with it. he then gets up and takes his boxers off, I get off my back and start giving him head. I didn't know his dick was thick until he put it in my mouth, my jaw was hurting for the second time in my life which was crazy because that never happens. while I'm sucking his dick, he gets a hold of my head and starts fucking my throat for a good minute, he tells me to look up at him and I did then I pulled back to spit the spit I had in my mouth out. I then get back to sucking his dick at my tempo, I'm sucking his balls while playing with his tip, then I switch to sucking his dick while playing with his balls. he then pulls away and there's this string of spit on the ground. he gets a condom out of his bag and puts it on but it seems like it is hard to put on (mind you this is the XL condom). he then comes my way and we start kissing again, then put his dick inside of me and yall... I want to get on my knees and propose to that man. his dick felt so good inside of me, I wish yall were me at that moment. he was going slow at first, then his tempo started gradually going faster, but he never went too fast which is what I really liked. the movie stopped and all you could hear was me moaning and him softly grunting. I'm kissing his ears, I'm telling him "Oh my gosh" "fucckkkkk" "Right there baby" "This your pussy", the whole nine. he's there grunting in my ear, feeling all over my body, and he then tongue kisses my ear.

he then pulls back and says "Turn around", I should've known that would take me out because I am the weakest person ever when it comes to backshots. I arch my back and he pushes my head down and sticks his dick in me and y'all I almost tapped when he did that. he was pushing my head down while fucking me and I'm just over here like gasping for air. I'm moaning his name, moaning extremely loud because it's only us in the entire building, I reach back and start playing with his balls. then he picks up the pace and starts going faster which prompts me to put my hands on his stomach to run but he grabs my hands and pins them behind my back, I had no choice but to squirt on him and collapse as a way to run. then he teases my coochie again and sticks his dick back inside me, we continue with backshots again until a few minutes in I say "Hold on, lemme breathe". I come up and he sits down then I lean in for a kiss and get on top of him at the same time. I can never get my rhythm correct when it comes to riding but I was riding him and he was just letting me do my own thing. he started taking off my shirt and then he started taking off my bra but we couldn't get the books off so we just kept it on. I'm riding then I squirt again and get off. when I get off I take the condom off and we go into backshots standing up. I’m touching the floor & he’s just holding onto my back keeping his tempo, I start bending my legs and he pulls my back up to him and then holds my neck and he starts going faster, I’m just moaning and then I squirt again. I hear him say “I love when you squirt on my dick” Then we go back into missionary which only lasted five minutes. he’s going slow, I had my legs locked around him, and I'm telling him to “nut in your pussy baby”, “I want you to nut in me”, “Come for me (name)” Then I hear him say “I'm finna nut in you”, then I just hear him moan loud asf. he gets off and I just felt something leaking, I reach down and its just straight cum. I get up & go pee because I wouldn’t dare have his child at this moment. then it was time for me to go home & he walked to my car and we ended up texting until I fell asleep.

yes, we still talk, yes I will fuck him again.

[pochx]

actually wait i've never shared my tattoos on here. i'm so fond of them<3 they're not super fancy or special but i love them all.

under the cut because i won't post the ramble without it onto your dashes<3 (no pics either tho)

my first and my baby-- is on the inside of my lower arm just below the elbow. it's an outline of a raven within a box. i wanted something but wasn't sure what so i decided to initially go with just a square there since i always drew on myself there growing up (and still do). then i went with a raven because it's matched/paired with

my second darling-- is in the same spot on the other arm and is a coyote instead. i have these two little rock figures of them that i got from gas stations off the highway in arizona (and maybe new mexico) because i grew up there in the rural southwestern desert (both in the us and mex.) to an extent besides just urban socal.

anyways my third sweet child-- is on my thigh just above the knee. and it's of the two headed calf. you know the one. these babies

and my fourth + final little guys-- is on my inner ankle and is a little finch carrying a salmon (ironically one that's ready to fuck. but that was a choice on the artist). and it's my only video game tattoo and it's real niche. but if you've ever played "what remains of edith finch" then you can put it together :) the location is also part of the meaning to me, but this one i won't explain

[spxtr]

🖊 — any tattoos?

🔏 — want any (more) tattoos?

🖊 — any tattoos?

i have exactly two tattoos i got a handful of years ago! i have the gemini constellation on my left calf and a tree with the roots being filled with life, there being flowers and wildlife. while the the rest of the tree is dead above the soil and there being dark clouds on my left thigh. perhaps it's a stupid tattoo but i remember at the time of thinking of it in a way of.. life may be shitty and everything could be absolutely horrible, but there can still be good, room for growth, etc.

🔏 — want any (more) tattoos?

yeah, i've wanted another tattoo for a while but just have never gotten around to doing it. i wanted to get a tattoo of sweetgrass braided into a heart with the inside being part being a dreamcatcher somewhere on my body, something small and simple and to connect me a little more to my indigenous heritage a little more. i'm half indigenous and have always felt.. out of touch so i want something to reconnect in a way i suppose. however, i jokingly said to my girlfriend that i also want a tattoo of meows morales because he's god damn adorable.