#a lil sun burnt but alive and

[ode2rin]

i went hiking last last week in an attempt to start my lil healing journey since murder is wrong, only to have my healing progress cut short by gege akutami. maybe murder is ok sometimes

[hungwood]

/ ANYHOW! look at p.uppeteer's character design sheet !

[ghoulphile]

sticky fingers | c.h./the ghoul

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 4.5k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; mildly dubious consent, dirty talk, degradation kink, fingering, squirting, rough sex, size kink, standing doggystyle, overstimulation, teasing, choking, dacryphilia, cooper howard is his own warning (he nasty y'all), canon compliant - takes place around ep 7, a grab bag mix of the show and the games ➥ summary | “Lil girls should know it’s rude ta steal.” ➥ notes | i love my men like i love my beef jerky 🫠 i wrote this over 16 fevered hours after finishing the finale. hope you enjoy~ minor edits 4/22/24 | x posted to ao3 | masterlist | feedback is always appreciated ❤️ feel free to send in thots, questions, requests!

It begins, as most things in the Southwest Commonwealth do, with a fight for survival.

City life is tough to be sure, but here on the outskirts of pocket civilizations where there’s nothing but long stretches of desolate wasteland - arid, sunbaked earth and scorched shrubbery - for miles around?

Well, if the ferals, fiends, and super mutants don’t get you in the night, then the desert itself will. During the day the sun burns overhead so nuclear hot, heat glimmers on the horizon in dancing waves.

Unforgiving, relentless as blink-and-you-miss-it mirages are swallowed by ever shifting sands.

It’s easy to get lost.

Even easier to boil alive in your armor if you’re unprepared.

Far too many travelers from the Eastern Commonwealths have met their demise here, where shade is sparse, and water even moreso. The rain - if it does blow in over the mountains - brings rad sickness.

If you’re lucky enough to still be alive, the only reprieve from the heat is in the stooped bones of bombed buildings and ramshackle shacks... where you're just as likely to catch a knife in the back from a chem fried addict as you are relief.

Because here, in the Wastes, danger lurks in sand and shadow alike.

You don’t trek out into the flats half-cocked: a fact all locals know. And if you do decide to? Well, you learn one way or another.

No, only the truly ignorant - or the desperate - dare to tempt man and nature.

Consequently, as you dust off the crumbs from the last half of a Fancy Lads Snack Cake and suck a melted smear of icing from your thumb, you're of the latter half.

You tried holding off for as long as you could. But once the shakes started, you knew you couldn’t put off eating lest you pass out and wake up in a slaver camp.

Well, shit, you think as you rattle a dented canister of purified water. This fucking sucks.

Almost going cross-eyed, your tongue hovers under the rim as you watch the last lazy drop fall free. You catch it with a grimace, smacking your lips. The water tastes metal warm in your sour mouth, barely enough to wet your whistle - let alone your thirst.

You began rationing the last of your supplies days ago, and it’s been a battle against light-headedness ever since. Pretty soon you won’t have the strength to defend yourself, scavving be damned.

Come on. Think - gotta think. What can I scrap for caps?

Not only is Filly more than half a day away, Ma June isn’t one for charity cases. The fact she offered twenty extra caps last time for some burnt books and bent bobby pins was as close as you were ever going to get to a Wasteland miracle.

Sunken cheeks and pleading eyes can only get you so far; everyone’s gotta eat.

"Fuck..." The palms of your hands grind into your eye sockets until you see stars. "FUCK!"

There are two unspoken laws in this otherwise lawless land: steal or starve, live or die. A grim reminder that surrounds you in old bleached bones, empty bullet casings, and scraps of cloth fluttering in the breeze.

Someone always has to be top dog. If you’re lucky, they might be willing to share their spoils.

It’s as you’re considering what pieces of yourself you’re willing to barter that you see them. On the horizon, coming from the west, are two dark blobs.

Stark against the flat plains - a shining beacon of salvation - is a man in a ratty duster and cowboy hat. The saddlebag tossed over his shoulder bounces with his steps while a dog trots beside him, its sable coat rippling with muscle.

Pay dirt.

Making sure to keep low and distant, you stalk them. Watching, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

When the sun dips low, the sky a swath of pale pink and gold, they make camp at a blown-out Drumlin Diner. Off in the distance, thunder rumbles and sickly clouds gather.

Dark and roiling, acid green; a Radstorm brewing.

Electricity cracks at your skin, stands your hair on end. You scrub your hands over your arms, huddling into yourself for warmth. Meanwhile, the stranger seems to luxuriate in the budding promise of rad rain.

He lounges under an awning, his back pressed against a defunct Nuka Cola fridge. He gazes in the direction of the oncoming weather while mindlessly running his fingers through the dog’s fur as it curls up against his legs.

Occasionally, its ears twitch, and its eyes crack open.

Whenever it glances in your direction, you hold your breath and squeeze your eyes shut but it never gives any other indication that it notices your presence.

A small mercy you’re thankful for.

While you’re a pretty good shot, your body is weak with hunger. Besides, you have quick hands and light feet. There’s no doubt you can stealth your way in and out before he realizes his pack is lighter than he left it.

You’ll only take what you need - not interested in causing any more trouble than is necessary. Some food, maybe something to drink if he can spare it, and something to pawn. Just enough supplies to get you sorted in Filly.

Anyway, he certainly isn’t hurting for it by the look of things.

Any guilt you felt was short-lived when he settled down after dropping his pack inside, walking out with an inhaler of Jet in one hand and a can of Cram in the other.

Watched, greedy, as he cracked it open and picked at the tin of meat with lazy fingers. Salivated as he sucked them clean in between deep pulls of chem.

Soon, you decide, licking your lips as he chews, swallows. Soon.

However when push comes to shove, the stranger proves far more keen than you give him credit for.

The world spins like a hit of Daytripper, a kaleidoscope of color as your skull bounces off the wall with a loud crack. Air rushes from your lungs as something huge - hot and heavy - slams into you from behind.

Pins you against the wall with ease as your ears ring.

Something rattles loose; your teeth too large and your tongue too thick. Warm metal floods your mouth as the side of your face throbs in time with the rabbit fast stutter of your heartbeat.

Pain sparks and your stomach rolls.

"Wha's?" you slur, thoughts dripping like wax. "Wh-at's..."

Meanwhile, a gloved hand lassos around your throat like a collar. Brute fingers squeeze the tender flesh of your jugular until you hear your pulse in your ears. Senses struggling - sluggish to adjust in the encroaching night - as tiny cavities eat at your vision, little pockets of darkness.

“Lil girls should know it’s rude ta steal," a gruff voice mocks. “Betcha thought you was real slick, huh? Tch. You ask me, you’re dumber than shit, Darlin'.”

Trying to regain your bearings, you shake your head only to groan. “I don’t - ‘m not -” It’s difficult to concentrate, a throbbing tempo taking up residence in your temples. The words come slow. “Wha’d you mean?”

He whistles, long and low-pitched, "D’ya have any idea who you're fucking with?"

“N-No…”

“How’s about I show you, then?”

Warm breath puffs over the shell of your ear, a tongue sliding out to trace along the lobe. You jolt, squirming in discomfort as he crowds closer.

“Tasty lil thing like you, wrapped up all nice and pretty just for me." He chuckles. "Why, it must be Christmas.”

What the hell is he talking about?

It’s hard to breathe with his heavy weight suffocating you; the scent of gunpowder and bitter smoke clogging your nostrils with every labored inhale. His lips - ragged - scrape over the nape of your neck.

The grip on your throat squeezes once, twice; leather sticks to your sweaty skin.

You squint your sore eyes, taking in the faint flickers of firelight that spill through the open doorway. The desert chill of night has settled in, creeping through the busted out windows to dig beneath your padded armor.

Thunder rumbles directly overhead as lightning follows in flashes of acid green. It’s only a matter of time before sheets of rain come pouring down; the air sticky with humidity, trembling with energy.

The Radstorm has finally arrived.

You’ll undoubtedly get sick if you leave the shelter of the diner - might even die from it if you can’t afford or find any RadAway. But as the stranger’s chest digs into your shoulders, and the dog curls up in the corner - uncaring of your plight as its nose tucks into the whip-thin tail - you think you’ll take your chances.

Tilting back to glance at him from over your shoulder through damp eyes, you say, “Look--”

Only his hand moves, viper quick, as it slides from the front of your neck to the nape. Strong fingers clamp down like a vice, like scuffing an unruly dog.

He grinds your face into the wall, rough metal shredding your cheek.

You cry out, a soft, pained little thing that echoes through the empty diner.

“Now why’d you gotta go an' make me do that?”

A phantom glimpse told you all you needed to know; broad jaw, thin lips, a hollow nasal ridge, creeping radiation burns and cracked skin. Ghoul.

“Let’s try this again, Sugar.”

His free hand - sans glove - creeps over the curve of your hip to splay along the swell of your belly, fingers tucking up under the hem of your shirt. You shiver at the stroke of roughened skin.

“Don’t take another peep or I might jus' have ta pluck out those pretty eyes of yours.”

Dread pools low in your gut, a leaden ball.

Everything in you screams: RUN, RUN, RUN.

Alarms blare but you freeze. Stare straight ahead at the featureless wall, eyes wide and unseeing. Through the foggy mire of your thoughts - half formed and shapeless - you have enough presence to understand the precarious nature of your position. 

Heart hammering, you plead for mercy, “Please, I’m - I’m sorry.”

"Aw, ain't that real sweet?" He remains impassive, unmoved. "The little thief does got some manners after all."

Without warning, the sharp toe of his cowboy boot kicks apart your feet. In the ensuing empty space between your thighs, his leg slots into place. Spurs dig into the tender meat of your ankle, little kisses of pain, as his hips rut forward against your ass.

You choke on your spit, pulse jumping in your throat.

"H-Hey, that's..." You attempt to shove at any part of him you can reach to no avail. Built and broad with compact muscle, it's like trying to move a brick wall. "I said I was sorry, okay!"

He ignores you, burying his face into the space behind your ear. A deep inhale sounds next to your head, the expansion of his chest against your back so firm you're not sure you won't fuse together.

The whiskey rough groan he releases does wicked things, makes your mind wander to places it shouldn't. Full of grit and gravel as his cock twitches against your backside, a burning line of heat.

A shiver ricochets down your spine.

He grunts, says, "Mm, you smell good enough ta eat."

The cap of his knee nudges up against your clit with a sudden jolt, shocks of pleasure electrifying your body. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, and a sob threatens to scrape its way up from the depths of your throat.

You swallow, mouth desert dry. "Come on, let's just forget all about this, yeah?" you reason. "No harm done. I'll even give you whatever I've got left so - so..."

He makes a noise in the back of his throat, the vibration rattling through your chest. "So?" he prompts, plucking at the waistband of your trousers.

"So let me go?"

"Now why would I go an' do an asinine thing like that?" he replies. "If you think you can buy your freedom, think again, Sweetheart."

Rain pings off the metal roof, the smell of pungent ozone and rusting metal wafting in through busted windows and open doors.

“'Sides,” he pauses to turn your attention outside, “I’d hate ta have you yakin’ before the fun’s even started.”

There’s no way to misconstrue his meaning when he punctuates the statement with a teasing rut of his hips. Those rugged fingers tug open the clasp of your trousers, yank until the material goes slack and pools around your ankles.

“Hey, wait--!”

You jolt, hands scrambling for purchase as he slides his leg against your core. The friction of his pants through your thin cotton underwear makes you ache.

Ripping through your bottom lip, blood beading to the surface, you choke on a high-pitched whimper. "I..."

There's no way he can't feel your reaction.

How quickly you're getting wet as he drags you along the length of his thigh while yanking your hips back into the cradle of his pelvis. You meet him in a slow grind that boils your blood and steals the breath from your lungs.

It’s been - shit - far too long since you’ve felt anything other than hunger, thirst; the animal drive to keep pushing forward.

"You like this, don'tcha?"

You hear the dagger-sharp smile hidden in his words.

He croons, "What would your fellow smoothies think, huh? Here you are lettin’ a ghoul get you all hot n bothered - and you’re lovin’ it. Ain't you?"

You throb in response, heat stealing its way into your cheeks as you turn your head away in shame. His dark chuckle lets you know he felt the squeeze of your thighs, the rock and dip of your hips against his knee.

"I - I don't..." you stutter, struggling for a retort. “I’m not--”

A tremble works its way through your body, crushed as you are between the rad warm burn of his body and the wall. Completely at his mercy as you try to figure out where it all went wrong and what you can do to worm your way out of this one.

Terrified of what'll happen if you stay, terrified of what'll happen if you go; stuck in limbo as what was meant to be a simple grab-and-dash devolved into this confusing cluster of shame and lust.

You loathe the embers of desire kindling to life low in your belly.

"You really outta start bein' more honest, Sweetheart."

A large hand dips beneath the worn band of your underwear, and you wait with baited breath. Helpless as calloused fingertips brush over the swell of your mond.

Your inner thighs are uncomfortably sticky with slick, and your eyes burn in humiliation. Your throat trembles around all the words you want to say.

"Didn't anyone teach you lyin' was bad?" he asks rhetorically as his fingers slip down to play with the swollen bud of your clit, tapping lightly.

You keen, low and wounded.

Short nails dig into your palms as you flex your hands for want of something to grab onto.

“I am being honest,” you bite out through grit teeth. Sweat dapples your furrowed brow. “Just lemme go, please.”

"I find that hard ta believe," he replies. "Sorry to say, but you're shit at lyin'. Just look how hungry your lil cunt is for me."

It’s the only warning you get before those long digits plunge deep inside, two becoming three as they stretch you wide. Hollow you out; knuckles massaging your entrance as the tips prod along the sensitive front wall of your cunt.

You clamp down with a strangled moan. “Shit!”

This is a horrible idea - but it’s been forever and a day since you’ve felt anything other than your own touch.

Whether it be the bone-deep loneliness you’ve been shoving down for months or the sudden, inexplicable need for contact, you long for a reminder that you’re still alive.

That you’re not some wrath of the Wasteland filled with sand and blood, doing whatever it takes to survive in a place that would rather see you fail.

“I - I’m not sure.”

He snorts but offers no council or reassurances, using his free hand to yank at the back of your head in impatience. While it might’ve been a fairer fight if you weren’t in such bad shape, there’s no denying that he’s proven himself to be more adept.

Stronger, quicker.

This is going to happen either way.

And that turns you on - even though you feel like it shouldn’t.

If you give in, if he forces you to give in, it’s not really your fault then, is it? You can enjoy it because you have no choice.

Fuck it, you think, closing your eyes and tilting your head to the side in submission.

Like a doll with cut strings, all the fight drains from your body and you’re left sharing space. The ghoul is a furnace of heat behind you, barely any space to breathe he’s crowded so close.

His cock thickens where it digs into the soft fat of your ass, as large and intimidating as the man himself. “Now stay still for me.”

The or else goes unspoken.

Then he’s stepping away, a rush of cold air filling the empty space at your back.

You shiver, tempted to turn around. Maybe make a run for it. The only thing stopping you is the awareness that his threats aren’t so idle. In your experience, it’s far better to befriend the monster than to anger it.

So you comply, waiting an eternity as your senses strain to pick up on anything other than the murmuring hush of rain, the rumble of thunder, as the Radstorm continues to blow its way through.

Though just when you think he might’ve left, ready to chance moving, you hear the clink of a belt buckle clicking open. The scuff of boots across the linoleum before broad hands shove up under your shirt, scarred palms bare as they settle on your hips.

You tense before forcing yourself to relax.

“You ain’t as stupid as I thought,” he says. “Good girl.”

A test.

You breathe a sigh of relief.

“I can listen,” you mumble, keeping calm as his hands explore the plains of your stomach, pluck at the waistband of your panties. “Promise ‘m not gonna do anything else.”

Learned my lesson the first time. Got my skull cracked open for it.

“That’s what I like ta hear.”

Without warning, your panties are being ripped from you, scraps of fabric fluttering useless to the floor. You squawk in indignation but then a heavy hand settles between your shoulder blades.

He presses down, and you follow without complaint, finding yourself bent in half.

And then the fat head of his cock is right there, teasing at your entrance. He plays with your cunt, slipping the shaft between your wet folds. Dragging up the length of you to tap at your swollen clit.

Jerking in his hold, you whine and try to bear down with all your weight. “Please,” you squirm. “Please, c’mon…”

His grip remains firm, bruising as he exhales next to your ear, a pleased little grumble. “Thatta girl. Now tell me, who’s my pretty lil thief?”

Every hard ridge of his body bites into the softness of yours, your stiff nipples dragging against the rough material of your shirt. Zings of pleasure shoot through you; bursting in your bloodstream, fizzy like warm Nuka Cola.

“I-”

“Go on now, Sweetheart: say it.” Fingers dig into your hips so hard your bones ache. “Or I jus' might be tempted ta take a bite outta your pretty lil backside instead.”

He’s bluffing, you think, half delirious, … Right? He wouldn’t--

You swallow, throat clicking, and squirm against him.

Is that a chance you’re willing to take?

No, no it’s not.

“Y-Yours - I’m - I’m your little thief.”

The unexpected flare of satisfaction in his voice is almost your undoing. A hand pets down your flank, swatting the outside of your thigh playfully.

“Good girl.” He demands, “Say it again.”

Sharp hip bones kick forward against your ass as he lines himself up and starts to bully his way inside.

“I’m - YOURS!”

Your soft, gummy walls flutter, squeeze until giving in with a pop under the hard pressure of the fat head. His cock stretches you out, thick and girthy.

Ridges of scar tissue and patches of rough friction pockmark his shaft, massaging tender places as he fills you up, fucking you open.

He feeds you inch after inch… until he can’t.

“Wait!”

Accommodating his girth is a struggle, your cunt filled to the brim by the time he’s halfway inside. No amount of slick could make him fit, so he makes do with harsh little jerks of his hips. Forces himself deeper and deeper until he glides home nice and smooth, sheathing himself to the base with a sigh of satisfaction.

You clamp down hard with a hiccupy whine, walls furtively trying to push him out. “A-Ah!”

“Goddamn,” he huffs, hands kneading your ass, “You’re a tight fit.”

Tears prick your lash line, your hips shifting as you try to stop him from moving. Begging for a moment of reprieve. You’ve never taken something so big and thick, so textured before.

Coupled with the minimal foreplay, it feels like he’s punched his way through your body. Hollowed you out to make a home for himself.

Pussy aching, a low burning tightness creeps over your lower belly as tender flesh pulses uncomfortably around the unforgiving heft of his cock seated deep inside. You swear you feel him poking your belly button.

“Please,” you pant, heat settling into your cheeks. “J-Just wait a sec-ond! I can’t - oh shit.” 

“Aw, look at you.” Fingers reach around to brush over your cheeks, gather the tears that’ve slipped free. “Didn’t mean ta make you cry,” he lies.

The sound of him sucking his fingers clean reaches your ears. Your stomach swoops, and your clit throbs. Dazed as you wonder what his mouth would feel like on your pussy.

"Hah - too much, you're - fuck - you're too big."

He snickers. “Can’t be helped, I guess.” Body rippling in a shrug, his hands re-settling on your hips. “But that’s all right - I like it better when they cry.”

Before you can retort, he pulls his hips back.

Your toes curl in your boots, feet squeaking across the linoleum floor as your sweaty forehead grinds into the cool metal of the wall. The texture of his shaft burns as it slides through your swollen folds, dragging against sensitive spots you didn’t even know existed.

You can’t tell if it’s the best you’ve ever felt or the worst, but you nearly sob all the same, nerves alight with liquid fire. Want him as deep inside as he can go; a frenzy of desperation that needs him to stuff you so full you choke.

“See for all your whining, you’re takin’ me so well. What did I say about bein' honest?”

You sniffle, blurry eyes creaking open to stare out the window.

Your body throbs in time with your pulse, your pussy so stretched out you can’t clench down when he thrusts in deep. The fat mushroom head teases your cervix, a faint whisper, before he’s drawing back again.

“T-Too fast,” you stutter, head rolling back to rest on his shoulder. Your thighs tremble, knees going soft. “Slow down, slow down.”

“Sh, you can take it. I know you can.”

With a grunt, he surges forward. Wasting no time in starting up a brutal pace that rattles your bones. He drives you hard into the side of the diner; tits crushed and face smashed, a disgusting mixture of tears and drool wetting your cheek.

“Just like that, Sweetheart.”

You do little more than hold on, all thoughts driven from your mind as he fucks you swollen and bruised. Cunt a sticky mess as your slick eases the way, clinging to your inner thighs and dripping down his heavy balls.

Every thrust punches little sounds from you, and he grunts. “Fuck!”

Your hands cling to the sides of his hips, focusing on the shift of muscle beneath heavy fabric. “I can’t,” you slur, eyes cloudy as you glance up into his, gazes meeting for the first time. “Please, I - ah!”

His thrusts turn punishing, even more so than they already were, hips meet your ass with enough force to leave bruises. “What did I say about sneakin' a peek?”

While the words sound threatening, his voice is heated and breathy. For all his talk, he doesn’t look away. In fact, his hips slow into languid rolls, grinding close. When your eyes slide from his, he reaches down to pinch your clit between his fingers.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he chides. “You keep those eyes on me.”

Pretty, you think, dazed.

Glinting in the slants of firelight like wet sand or a Nuka Cola bottle in the sun; bourbon warm as they peer at you from beneath a heavy brow bone.

“That’s it, there’s my good girl."

Eyes fluttering when he flexes his hips in reward, the tip massaging along your g-spot, your mouth drops open on a whine.

“O-Oh! Right there, I - fuck, please don’t stop. ‘m so close.” F-Feels s'good.

His bare hand reaches up to curl around your jaw, gnarled fingers pushing their way past the open circle of your swollen lips. They compress your tongue as they gather saliva, stroking along your tastebuds.

Gritty, rough; he tastes of dirt, blood, and gunpowder.

You sneak a kiss to his scarred knuckle when he pulls free.

“Shit, I’ll be damned. You’re just a nasty lil freak, ain't you?”

You moan in response, stretching up on your tip-toes and arching your hips to change the angle. Your palms rest beside your head, docile.

A crazed grin cracks the corners of his lips, his teeth bared like an animal. “I like that,” he husks. “Now be a peach…”

Then those soaked digits are finding their way between your thighs, ghosting over your skin to smear spit onto your abused clit. The tender bud throbs beneath his fingertips, swollen and begging for attention.

He hitches his hips forward to feel you jerk, pulsing beneath his touch as he resumes a fast, jolting pace that has you smacking into the wall.

“And cum for me.”

A deep rumble escapes his throat, the sloppy, wet sounds of him fucking you ringing loud in your ears. Your hips roll, unsure if you want to press forward into the swirl of his fingers or back into the rut of his cock.

Tears stream down your cheeks, your chest heaving with weak sobs.

“Please,” you whine, his shaft pinching your walls uncomfortably. You feel swollen, rubbed raw. “A-Almost there.”

A nip to the ear is all it takes.

“Hhaah, I’m--!”

The liquid heat that’s been pooling low in your belly - building and building - finally bursts in a gush of slick that soaks his hand. Darkens the crotch of his pants as it drips down your thighs to splash against the tile.

You sob, a full body tremor zipping through you like bottled lightening.

In the aftermath, your cunt twitches in time with your heartbeat. Hands numb and head full of cotton as cramps bloom between your hips. Sharp little stabs shoot up behind your navel.

“Shit, I’ve got myself a gusher,” he laughs, a nasty little smirk tugging at his lips. “Look at the mess you made. Now if you ask real sweet-like, maybe I’ll let you clean it up with your tongue.”

You sag, too boneless to be ashamed as electric aftershocks tingle along your nerves. All the while, his pace never falters, quickly fucking you into overstimulation.

Your clit twitches pathetically when the fat head of his cock drags along your g-spot. "No more," you mumble weakly, letting him maneuver your body how he likes. "Please."

“Heh, let’s see if you can do that again.”

You whimper, “Oh, oh, please n-no. I - I can’t. You’ll break me.”

“That’s real cute,” his lips, harsh and rasping, drag over the shell of your ear, “but I wasn’t askin’.”

The grip on your hips tightens to the point of pain, digging in and marking you up.

“Now, why don’ we have some real fun, Darlin'?”

[deadmomjokes]

D-

D-?

Dog??

DOG!

This is Rosie. By pure divine providence/luckiest coincidence, the day after we were mourning getting ghosted by a dog we were going to meet, we checked our local shelter and found The Perfect Girl.

She's two-ish years old, according to her former owner, but there's not a ton we can trust from what they reported. According to the shelter, the former owner is an overpopulated backyard breeder/puppy mill they're working with to try and get them to surrender the dogs of their own volition so it doesn't get tied up in court forever. So far, they've been dropping dogs off piecemeal, and Rosie was one of them.

In theory she's a Maltese, though she came to the shelter as one big mat so they had to shave her. Underneath the mats, they found that she was very underweight--about a 2 on the body condition scale. She doesn't really know how to do walk on a leash, knows no commands, doesn't know how to play, and is scared of basically everything, from the noise of cicadas outside to dark windows and doors.

But we knew she was Our Dog the moment my daughter walked in front of the kennel. Rosie went from cowering in a corner to licking the door trying to get to her. When the worker brought us outside to a meet and greet area, Rosie came right over to our daughter and put herself in her lap. Then she demanded scritches from my husband and I. Apparently this was the first time Rosie had willingly interacted with a person, including shelter staff. That was that, of course; had to be done. That's our dog. Mostly my daughter's dog. Rosie may like the size and squishiness of mine and my husband's laps for cuddles, but the Bean is her person.

She's slowly getting used to life outside of both the shelter and a very crowded environment, and the bigness and quietness make her nervous. She doesn't like being alone, and insists on touching us any time we sit still. She's very bony, and it's hard for her to find comfy places to be. She's scared of the stairs, but also hates the picking-up part of being carried. (She'll accept it and come ask for a ride after staring morosely at the stairs and deciding that uppies are the lesser of two evils.) She just got spayed, so she's not feeling her best. There's the zero-training thing, of course, and the unfortunate gastric consequences of so much change all at once. So it's going to be a tough transition period for all of us, and a lot of work over a long time.

But we already love her to death, and we're starting to see some of her personality come through already.

She loves blankies, the fuzzier the better. When she's not coned, she will aggressively resituate the blankie with mouth and all four limbs until she makes a perfect little volcano to snuggle into. The goal and, it seems, necessity is now a blankie in every room for her to nest up in, that way we don't have to keep carrying her current ones around every time we change rooms.

She prefers being outside to being inside, and would gladly sit out in the yard all day if we let her. (Alas, it is not fully fenced, and she's so naked she would be eaten alive by mosquitos and burnt to a crisp by the sun.)

Transition points confuse her just a little bit, so she does a cute little skip-hop over door thresholds and surface texture changes. She's always incredibly proud of herself after doing so, even if she assumes we're not looking. She just likes doing her little dance.

She prefers to either tuck right up against your butt, or to perch as close to your shoulder as possible--there is no in between.

She was very pleased with herself that she got her bony lil butt precisely on my shoulder there.

And yes, my dog is wearing a sweater in the dead heat of the summer, she's very naked and very skinny and has exactly zero cold tolerance for air conditioning.

Welcome to the fam, Rosie! Your life may not have been the best before now, but now you can live your best life forever.

[galaxycunt]

Added to this fic bc I thought of a lil scene that was too small for its own thing hehehe

You prepared the bar, leaving it to someone’s care for the first time ever. Your loyal patrons promised to make sure nothing changed, as faithful as any other crew. Plenty of folks figured you two were marrying, something that wasn’t spoken but implied. You loved him, and that was enough for you. At least for now, you didn’t like pushing luck.

It was a fantasy, rolling between the sheets every night, sea spray and sun kissing your face every morning. The crew was as loyal to him as you were, and you felt like a young sailor again. Being with Buggy felt…right.

You couldn’t admit it to yourself before, but you felt stagnant at the bar. Resigning yourself to life on land, it never felt you. Buggy had a way to persuade anyone to do anything, how easy it was for you to reconsider things in the end.

Buggy regarded you as a goddess, eyes in a daze as you kissed him each time. It made him nervous, afraid to act like himself. You always had short spurts together, a ship was tiny compared to a whole ocean apart.

You’d get agitated at each other, arguing over small things. He was a man that had a short fuse, and you discovered you did too. Buggy threw clean clothes on the floor, you laughed a little too hard at a crew member’s joke. That one got him into trouble.

”I can do what I want, Buggy.”

You’d go to bed angry, facing away from him no matter how hard he tried. Buggy figured his time was up, failing the audition. The curtain closing on the last good thing that was ever going to happen to him.

You woke up late, stumbling into the kitchen to eat, only to find Buggy. He was frustrated, muttering curses as he looked at a recipe.

”Hey baby.”

He nearly dropped his spoon, “go away! I’m busy! Go lay down!”

You did no such thing, lacing your fingers around his waist. Buggy elbowed you gently so he could work, he was making crepes. You ate a burnt one he tossed aside, smiling.

”Are you making this for us?”

”For you.”

”Can I help?”

”No. Just relax.”

”I’ve made crepes before.”

”I got it!”

You held your hands up, leaving him to his mess. He arrived to your cabin in a flourish, presenting the breakfast like it was the finest meal in the world. You kissed him as a thanks, his face as red as his nose.

”I’m sorry, you know.”

”Hey, it’s okay. I love you, Bug.”

He felt he needed to make it up to you anyway, making love to you, something he didn’t think he was capable of anymore. Before, it was always hot and fast, leaving him going mad until he could see you again. Yet here you were, and he was going to lavish you, appreciate you.

You rolled onto your stomach, admiring the man the before you. He playfully bit your asscheek before planting a kiss.

”Perfect spot for my name,” he said referring to your various pirate tattoos.

”Only if you get my name on your forehead.”

”Deal.”

”Right between those bones.”

”Uh huh.”

He was looking at you funny, so you stuck your tongue out. He didn’t flinch, didn’t throw it back, only smiling softly. Your body was on fire, cheeks burning.

“Ever thought about a future…with me?”

”I do.”

Your name sounded so lovely on his lips, “you’re the love of my life. My…my North Star, my way home.”

Buggy let out a shuddering breath, “I’m sorry if it’s too soon. But I can’t help what I feel.”

Your heart raced, “what are you saying?”

He laid his head on your stomach, too nervous to look you in the eye. You were beginning to worry, was he about to take it back?

”I want to marry you. Do it right. You said your folks are still alive.”

”My dad‘s a shipwright. He’s gonna say no because of the paint job.”

Buggy laughed, “so how do I win them over?”

”Don’t be a pirate.”

They liked your first spouse well enough, even if they were a pirate. After their death, your folks figured only pain was in your future if you continued.

”Well, I’m marrying you anyway.”

”I didn’t say yes.”

He hand waved it away, “haven’t seen the ring.”

”You didn’t even ask.”

Buggy rolled his eyes, “if you think you’re getting out of a flashy engagement you’re an idiot. I don’t marry idiots.”

You both burst into laughter, Buggy apologizing between kisses.

It was a couple of weeks before it was brought up again. The crew landed on an island with hidden treasure. The circus tent set up for a party, and you stared in his mirror as you got ready. It was a little funny that he had a longer morning routine than you, the matinee show, he called it.

You dipped a brush into some greasepaint, thinking it would fun to paint your own clown face. You painted red hearts on your eyes, with a blue smile. Giggling, you posed in the mirror. Buggy would get a kick out of it.

The ship was empty, so you figured everyone was at the tent already. You could see the lit up tent from the shore. As a kid you loved the circus, watching the graceful acrobats in the airs. Clowns always made you laugh.

Inside, the tent was empty. A single spotlight focused on the center ring. You felt in your gut what was about to happen.

“Buggy? Guys?”

From the darkness your lover approached you. Hands flexing nervously at his side, he smiled brightly.

“Got a special performance today, just for you.”

Suddenly you were lifted up by an acrobat, floating next to you was Buggy reaching out for your hand. Before you could grab it, you swung down. Your laughter bubbled up as this happened a few times, feeling gloved hands guide your hands and feet to the swing as you were let go.

Suddenly Buggy appeared causing you both to fall into the net below. Adrenaline rushed to your head as he kissed you, lips turning purple.

He helped you climb out of the net, falling to one knee.

”Marriage, like a circus, got its ups and downs. It’s true. But it’s all about keeping that passionate flame burning!”

On cue, the fire eaters spat out flames above your head. As you looked up, Buggy pulled out a clamshell. Inside the ring sparkled brilliantly, a show off like your husband.

“You’re the only person I want to share top billing with. The light of my life, my one true love. All dreams, my every breath, I want to share it with you.”

He shook, fingers slipping as he held the ring up.

”Will you marry me?”

You wiped your eyes, “yes. Making me cry in clown makeup, you jerk.”

He only laughed, kissing your face. You were sure the smile on his face froze permanently as soon as you slipped on the ring. He wore that smile all night as the crew celebrated.

Your parents were going to be so pissed.

[kateis-cakeis]

Arthur was lucky to be alive. Ever since he was a child, he had been prepared to drown. He had learnt the axe, faced the rope head on, and had feared the pyre. Yet, his father never threw him to the executioner. He punished him in other ways, forced him to watch his people be beheaded, burnt, suffocated, all while threatening his death at every turn.

He had magic, and he was lucky to be alive.

Except, things were changing. A fire, secrets, Morgana. He didn’t know anything, he couldn’t learn, and yet…

And yet his magic pushed itself forward, and it craved. More than knowing spells, it wanted Merlin, it pulsed in his direction.

The very life Arthur was just managing to hold together, threatened to pull itself apart. How could he, a man with magic, survive as Uther’s son?

--

Ahhhh, it's been so long! Happy to be back writing for the Merlin fandom again, with one of my all time favourite tropes, Arthur has magic!

When I was last here, my writing was still quite young :P But I've come a long way in my skills, and I hope I can do myself some justice! :)

This is a Merthur fic of course, with one smut scene in a later chapter, just as a lil warning there :)!

I hope you guys enjoy ^.^

[terribledactyl]

3, 15, 29?

3: a specific color that gives you the ick?

Not really an ick so much as a general dislike, I don't like #F57203 or #07c204. I prefer my oranges to be either pastel or more of an orange-yellow, burnt oranges and vibrant oranges kind of hurt me. I also don't like greens that are too vibrant, I prefer my greens to have a green-blue tint and to be a little darker, or sometimes a nice seafoam.

15: rank the methods of death: freezing, burning, drowning

top rank, freezing, cuz after a certain point with hypothermia you just take a lil naperoonie. it would suck ass leading up to it but idk, personal preference. next I'd put drowning for no reason other than accessibility and a personal amount of poetic motif, since i do really love water. and while burning is one of my favorite injury types, i think burning alive would absolutely suck ass.

ABOUT TO BE WEIRD ABOUT BURNS, SKIP IF IT SQUICKS YA

i'd like a new burn scar honestly though, most weirdly satisfying wound known to man second only to knife play wounds. the scabs for burns are divine.

END BURN SEGMENT

29: preferred pasta noodle?

tortellini, hands down. and with fresh pesto and sun dried tomatoes? killer. throw in some italian sausage if you're feeling like you want more protein, or chicken goes well here too if you want a lighter taste. i swear by this from the bottom of my heart.

[sky-neverending]

lil sneak peek. pls let me know if you want to be tagged when i update!!

About half-way through her story, something near the canal’s edge caught his eye. There was a boy there, maybe a year younger than Jesper himself. He had auburn curls that were tipped a muddy brown, like the colors were colliding with one another. His skin was pale, so pale that Jesper thought a moment longer in the sun might torch him alive. It was nearly translucent. Freckles littered his body, so many that for a moment, Jesper wanted to count them, trace constellations with his fingers across this boy's skin. He was wearing an outfit that looked like it could belong to someone’s great grandpa, long collared shirt under a burnt orange vest, a pair of deep brown slacks, and some shiny black shoes that had a point at the tip. 

Everything about him was odd. The extremity of his paleness, the outdated fashion, and, as Jesper looked closer, the fact that he seemed to be soaked from head to toe, yet didn’t seem uncomfortable about it at all. He stared at Jesper, blinking slowly. His gaze was alluring.

“Jes?” Nina called, pulling him from his own head. “Jesper, what in the Saints name are you staring at?”

Jesper looked at her, and then back toward the canal. 

The boy was gone. 

Jordie lives fics? Yes.

Jordie dies and is a ghost along with Wylan and we get wesper ghost/human romance plus Kaz reuniting with his ghostly brother all those years later because he and Wylan both haunt the canals and therefore, they know each other through the ghost social web? Something only I am crazy enough to come up with and write.

this au is once again consuming me. thanks for listening. let me know if you'd read.

[dailyrandomwriter]

Day 223

While I’m on a roll about video games, I did say I would post about Pokemon Sun and Moon, compared to Pokemon Scarlet and Violet. Sun and Moon released in 2016, and to date, is my favourite Pokemon game since the switch over to 3D graphics. 

And I realized, as I was talking about Behind the Frame yesterday, that what I really liked about Pokemon wasn’t really the act of catching Pokemon. Rather it was the fantasy of being a Pokemon trainer, which weirdly enough isn’t the same thing. For me, to really live that fantasy, it meant that the world in which my character lived in had to be substantial in terms of world building, atmosphere and story. This is also probably why I loved Lil Gator Game so much, because the premise of that game was to be a little child pretending to be a hero fighting monsters and helping others through quests. It was a premise that Lil Gator Game delivered with flying colours and 99 percent of the time I didn’t just feel a player doing a thing. I was a child, searching for monsters, or playing ninja, or whatever crazy game the children (characters) in the game came up with.

This immersion of the game is admittedly not something Game Freak is particularly good at most of the time for their Pokemon games. But it may be more due to how the Pokemon games used to be marketed (and still are from my understanding). While the first Pokemon game was not purposely meant to parallel the Pokemon cartoon series, I won’t deny that the series is the reason why I begged my parents for that game. The series was also why I probably had fallen in love with the first and second gen games as a child. 

As a child, I was an avid watcher of the Pokemon series, it was the only thing that got me out of bed in time for school every single morning. My mother must have been thrilled by this as she didn’t have to wake me up. I just quietly went downstairs before she woke up, grabbed a glass of orange juice so I could take my medication (all by myself) and just watch this show.

So it’s no surprise for the first two games, I didn’t need an in-depth storyline. I had watched the cartoons, I could go to all these gyms and places that Ash and his friends had visited. I could be a Pokemon Trainer just like him.

At some point, I grew up, and stopped watching the Pokemon series. The Pokemon games still had interesting things for me, especially because technology was quickly changing. By Pokemon Pearl and Diamond (released 2007), Internet technology had become good enough that those games had voice chat ability, which looking back on it was surprising Nintendo allowed that. The first time @wereah and I ever talked was through Pearl and Diamond’s voice chat feature.

It also, by this point where the tradition of @wereah and I purposely getting the opposite game versions started to happen.

But the Pokemon game that made us both very excited upon playing it was Sun and Moon. Not because of the new Pokemon or the new features, but because this world was so alive. The characters, the people, and the places all had things about it that made it a living breathing world. That made us talk to each other constantly about our experiences in the game. When Professor Kukui just barges into your home, acknowledging that he knew your mother we asked, were they in a relationship in the past? When we found out about Team Skull and their leader Gladion, we felt kind of bad for him. Especially because it was implied by a house we found that he may have been one of those genius children who burnt out when things got hard, because he never knew how to fail. And the true antagonist of the game, Lusamine, probably was the darkest implied antagonist the series ever had, as there’s a strong implication that she may have emotionally (at the very least) abused both her children to be what she wanted them to be. And all of this doesn’t even scratch the surface of the Ultra Beasts (who we’re sure are Pokemon versions of eldritch horrors), or the coming of age ritual that replaced the old gym challenge formula. I was so invested in this world that I never completed my Pokedex even though I could have, because I didn’t feel like I could justify catching the guardian deities Pokemon in the context of this world.

This world inspired us so much that we wrote stories, and did role plays around this world because it was just so full of life. The idea that you’re not just going on a journey to ‘become the very best’ but rather to live your life full of joy and wonder was something we really liked. Our Pokemon trainers became little feral children who were more than happy to island hop on Pokemon just for the sake of doing so.

Which brings me to Pokemon Scarlet and Violet, because at first glance, this should have been a game that we could have projected onto as well. Stories with school settings are fun, there is a reason why we’re doing a D&D campaign around a magic school. So you’d think a Pokemon game where you are a student at a Pokemon academy where every year the students get to do a large free study called a ‘Treasure Hunt’ where they are released upon the world to see the world, experience its wonders and joys and find their own ‘treasure’ would be perfect for us. In fact the concept of the Treasure Hunt is not too dissimilar to the coming of age ritual from Sun and Moon in terms of concept. And the characters you initially meet are interesting, fun, and even kind of kooky in a fun way. But…

There’s no life to it, and no drive.

The academy just becomes a place, a hub to come back to for class sessions that I don’t even know what the point to it is. Being a student just becomes this thin veil of a reason to have you wander the region. It became set dressing and nothing more.

My rival, while energetic and encouraging for me to do the gym challenge just doesn’t give me a good enough reason to do the challenge. In fact, the gym challenge becomes more of a chore, because of the level caps that I keep running into while trying to catch all the Pokemon in an area. While the gym leaders are conceptually interesting, I don’t really ever get to know them. In Sun and Moon I get to see the places where trial leaders live and/or work, and we get to know more about them through those around them, and additional dialogue after a battle. Whereas, the gym leaders are just there.

Helping Aven collect the mysterious herbs to help his Pokemon is great, but we don’t really interact with him beyond every time we find a herb. There’s also no further information or curiosity about the fact there are these huge ass Pokemon that guard these herbs. Aven’s story is unsatisfying despite the fact it’s meant to jerk your heartstrings over his very old and ailing Pokemon.

And I don’t even know why I would give a damn about Team Star and Penny. I only got to meet Penny in person twice, once to save her from Team Star and the second to listen to her proposal to help her bring them down. Team Star are clearly supposed to be students who have lost their way, but I don’t feel sorry for them. I hardly know anything about them other than the fact they are students who decide school is no longer worth the effort and they pressure others into joining like some kind of weird MLM scheme. I cared about Team Skull, I saw them scattered around the world loitering when I wasn’t in battle with them. They spoke about how they were disenfranchised with the coming of age ritual. Not only that, but they were clearly a group that cared about each other, who were these weird misfits just trying to find a place to belong. I don’t care about Team Star, they feel like brats throwing a tantrum because school isn’t cool or some shit.

Yea, the short summary of this whole thing is I don’t care. The Scarlet and Violet has not made me care about anything in this game. I’m not a student and Pokemon trainer, I’m just a player doing stuff apparently.

[efkgirldetective]

~part IV~ of this little prompt series { part I & part II & part III }

much love&thanks to @shaniso90 for this adjusted prompt !!! your noun/color/place worked so so well with my imposed emotion ✨

(ps highly recommend listening to tell me you love me by sufjan stevens—irrefutably/canonically jily—whilst reading)

sweater + lavender+ library + apprehension

Lily pauses, lazy with sleep, in the cusp of the hall—glimpsing round the corner James and Sirius stood in the kitchen, bent together, talking in quiet tones. She leans her head to the wall, watches James smile and laugh. He looks well-rested. He’s wearing the sweater she gave him for Christmas, lavender and woolen. One elbow already rethreaded with magic.

She presses a hand to her ribs. Afraid if she doesn’t hold her heart inside, it will spill out. Sirius leans back against the counter and flicks his wand at a simmering pan, at the toaster; she can smell eggs and nearly-burnt bread; the lingering scent of James, head heavy on his morning pillow. His fluttering lashes as he woke, slowly, culled his fingers to her neck, kissed her through halfsleep; whispered I’m here, sweetheart. I’m here.

Lily lets the fingers shift down; rest on her belly. Tender and soft. She steps into the kitchen.

“Morning, sleepy,” James murmurs when she tucks herself into his side, feeling the sweater between her fingers, feeling his warmth and his being here, being alive. Gripping at the loops of his jeans. Unwilling to let go.

“Toast, Evans?” Sirius asks, slipping past them. “Eggs?”

They share slow breakfast. Peter joins not long after and steeps tea just the way they all like. They laugh when Remus finally emerges, disgruntled and bedheaded, shoving at Sirius lightheartedly as he’s pulled in for a kiss; hands touching necks. Lily keeps herself connected to James; hand on his leg as it bounces under the table; mouth pressed into his shoulder when he refills her juice; fingers moving up through his hair, still damp from a shower. As if he’ll stay, just here, if she can keep him steady. As if touch could save him—any of them.

“Come with me to the library?” Lily wonders as the table breaks up— Remus fully awake and talking aloud through his list of Saturday chores, Sirius groaning that they ought to just go back to bed and loiter, Peter insisting on clearing the dishes, jostling a kind and gentle hand at James’ shoulder—“I’ve got books to return.”

They pile on their corduroy coats and cast warming charms and walk down the street through late November leaves, sunlight yellow and cold. Lily concentrates on the feeling of their hands, entwined. Hefts her tote of books higher on her shoulder. Feels his thumb rubbing her thumb.

“Okay?” he asks and in response, she brings the thumb up to her lips.

The Muggle library is scarce with patrons. Lily returns her books and chats for a moment with sweet, silver-haired Fran. “You’re quite glowing, love,” the librarian says as Lily shuffles a stack of new books into the tote. “Has that tall handsome mister gone and given you a ring?”

Lily smiles—and it bursts in jest as much in sadness. “Not yet, Fran, no ring.”

“He’s a right plonker should he not be ring shopping, at least. Tell him I said that, would you now?”

Lily finds James in the back of the library, flipping through a book on car mechanics, muttering on about how bloody impossible it all is, sans spellwork. The glass-ceilinged atrium above scatters gold light over the floor, over the stacks; catches in his dark hair. Lily feels the heart-spill, tenfold. Fits herself to his back and wraps her arms around his body; buries her face in his coat.

“Lils?” he asks, spreading his hands over hers.

“I love you,” she tells his coat.

He twists around fully and cradles her jaw and the library feels immense—but, still, too small. She chokes on the weight of her nerves, on the weight of the future. “You’re pale,” he murmurs, and she shuts her eyes. “Really, is everything okay?”

“Let’s walk,” she diverts, eager for someplace else to breathe.

They walk to a nearby park. The sun has dimmed behind clouds. Lily feels her footsteps very intentionally. Tucked into the crook of his body, she knows this is before. The after, unknowable. They will never be the same.

They meander to a bench with a nice view of a small pond, catered in late autumn by dreary clouded algae, birds splashing their wings in the water.

James doesn’t push—knowing, perhaps, that the words are glomming in her throat, that her fear and panic and wrong time wrong time wrong time are fraught enough to bury any thrill; affection; growth.

She asks, to stall, “your leg?”

He gives her a small smile. “Aches, just a little.”

“Good,” she nods, breathing out, running her hand down his arm; feeling his eyes on her. She looks out over the water. “Good.”

A family teeters down the path behind them. The babbling child throws the skin of an orange into the grass. Lily concentrates, very hard, on the way an orange smells when its skin is peeled off; the pleasant, stinging sweet. She remembers like her own breath the day she and James shared an orange under summer sun, eighteen years old, besotted; juice dripping between fingers. I love you shimmering between them for the very first time. “Can you feel it?” he wondered, hair moved through with wind. She held his eyes and cupped his hand in hers; gave over the last slice of fruit. “I’m full of it.” She tasted the orange on his lips. Amended, “overflowing.”

“I don’t know," she whispers, now, on the cold bench, "how you’ll react.”

James squeezes her hand. “It’s okay,” he says gently. “Anything, Lils. I’m here.”

“It’s...” she smooths a hand down her wool skirt, the thick stockings beneath. Looking for something to ground. “These last weeks have been—tumultuous,” she begins, “with the Order, and the moon, and the—with you, your—”

Out in the pond, a pair of ducks submerge their heads underwater. Lily reels in the tight knot of breath in her throat; tries to swallow past.

“Love,” James says, eyebrows pressed together, shifting himself sideways, arm reaching out under her back, round her waist. “What’s happened?”

Her lips quiver. How stupid it is—how reckless. “I missed my period, fully, last month,” she whispers, toying compulsively with the hem of her skirt. “And...I’m late on my charm, I missed the appointment. In the middle of—” she cuts her head away from him; can’t bear to see his face, falling. “I didn’t go. I forgot.”

There are birds in distant trees, calling out; anxious. The memory of the child, the orange peel, and the summer sun are blurring, too much the same thing. A love without home.

A sprawl of fingers on her cheek; she lets her face turn. His eyes gone soft. “You’re—” he clears his throat and runs a thumb over her chin. “Are you—?”

No chance of swallowing this lump, now. She lets it lump. Lets herself nod, slowly.

James goes still, save the stroke of his thumb. She feels frantic to move—to gasp—to scream. But she stays in his stillness and watches for signs of life. For signs of annoyance, of anger, of this is not our time.

None of it comes.

“I know,” she says, to fill the quiet, without much of a voice, “we’re too young, and there’s—so much wrong with it, and no time for—I know I’ve fucked up, I know there’s no place for such—such irresponsible—”

“Lily,” James chokes, flattening any further defense. “Lily,” he repeats, and his eyes are wet and his hand on her chin is shaking, shaking entirely.

“Are you...upset?”

“Upset? How could I—” James searches her eyes, frantically. “Are you upset?”

She bites her lips. Finds a swell of heat, in the space of their bodies—shakes her head, suddenly certain. “No. Scared, yes, but....no,” she breathes in. “I’m not upset.”

His breath seems to rush out all at once. He hiccups on a laugh, and pulls her in desperately, arms wrapping around; she lets herself burrow. Safe and warm. His lips press into her neck without aim. His smile presses, too. “Lily,” he whispers, and even her name is safe, tucked under his tongue. “When did you—” he pulls back, wet-cheeked. She scatters it away with her thumbs. “How long have you known?”

“Only yesterday. St. Mungos sent an owl and...” she feels herself blushing. “When Mags was in, wrapping up your spells...I went to the corner shop for a Muggle test and took it in their loo.”

James blows air out through his lips. “The Muggle tests...they’re accurate?...I mean,” he restarts, deliberately, brow knit in careful concentration. “You’re—you’re absolutely sure?”

“A Healer will be able to confirm, but...” Lily extracts one of his hands and folds it over her stomach; hears his quick inhaling breath. She covers the hand with her own. “I feel...full.”

“Oh my god, Evans,” he laughs, looking up at her; voice faltering, split in two; eyes overfull with wonder. “We’re having a baby?”

To be growing something that belongs to them both; to watch him transform with the knowledge, blinking, and teary, and happy. Lily’s heart pushes hard at her ribs. The birds are calling out in the trees. In among the this is not our time: something flowering, something organic—we will make this our time.

“Yes, Potter,” she smiles, chasing his sparkling laugh; her body a home to such love. “We’re having a baby.”

[sweeethinny]

DUDE WHATTT!!!! I just read ur jilly reacting to hinny first kisss. Dude it was amazingg. But imagine if jilly were alive and James finding out that his daughter in law got a contract to be a professional quidditch player. HE WOULD FREAK. If u have the time pleaseee write thisss.

OMG thank yooou, i love Jily so much, and i love write them alive!

i hope you liked <3

-----------

It was early August when the Potter decided that they needed to take a vacation, James claimed that it had been so busy years and that they almost never took advantage of the Boat he bought almost five years ago, when he started to take an interest in the subject and see various programs who were dedicated to naval practice

"Does your dad really think he can do it?" Ginny asked as soon as she finished closing her bags, smiling at Harry lying on her bed, sprawled as he waited, arms crossed behind his head and following her with his eyes

''He found a pilot. After my mother convinced him, of course, that he would hardly know how to fly a boat just by watching TV shows''

The two had been dating for a while, since the end of Harry's fifth year, and Ginny had been practically adopted by the Potter family, who included her in absolutely every outing, dinner and any celebration.

Lily and she spent hours talking in the greenhouses, sometimes the mother-in-law said about how the studies she had been doing had been improving and giving results, and that it would not be long before the patients who  wounds caused by curses, finally healed. Sometimes they just talked about trivial things, like the gift Harry had bought her, or some gossip they heard.

James was also a big fan, Ginny suspected even more than Harry, hers. They flew and played almost every vacation, and the father-in-law made sure to include her in everything related to Quidditch, always reminding her how good Ginny was.

"Even more than I was, and I was considered one of the best of that time"

So traveling with the Potter was not something new, but traveling with them in the same week that might or might not arrive at the letter that would tell she about the final decision on her contract with the Harpies was too much.

''You'll be accepted, I don't know why you're so nervous'' The two of them had just stepped into the Mansion - even though Harry insisted it wasn't one - and Ginny could barely count the anxiety that was eating at her bones, rhythmically tapping her fingers against the thigh and trembling feet when sitting

''Because everything can go wrong. If they think not ...''

''..They liked you'' Harry stated, squeezing her shoulders and forcing her to stop ''Everything will be fine''

Then, the four embarked for the trip to the port, Lily drove spectacularly well, laughing and having fun with the songs that played on the radio, pretending not to notice how restless her daughter-in-law was, who spent more time looking out the window than playing along with James.

''I think all of this will be good .. We need time out of communication. Of course owls can still find us, but only the most important matters'' Lily smiled in the rearview mirror, winking at the redhead in the back seat.

As soon as they arrived on the boat - named Euphemia, in honor of James' late mother - Ginny thought she would throw up right there, before they started moving through the calm, clean waters. The fear of being rejected and not being able to join any team, made her lose sleep and become more and more anxious, which made Harry worried and spent the nights by her side, talking and telling stories that she had already heard but who asked again just to distract her mind and laugh at  boyfriend.

When they started the real boat trip, she felt calmer.

The island they were going to stay on was wonderful, with clear, calm waters, and a sun that made Ginny have to wear sunscreen every hour. But it was totally worth it.

The boat ride was also magnificent, with all that wind in her face, the feeling of freedom and happiness that made her forget the tests she had done six months ago, and the most beautiful landscape she had ever seen in her life.

''I said, Lils, buying that boat was the best way to invest the money '' James said as they prepared to jump into the water, with Muggle equipment needed so they could dive deeper and deeper into the water kingdom who lived there (the pilot would never let them jump with only they bathing suits on, and Lily forbade them to bewitch the poor boy so they could use magic)

"Do you feel better?" Harry asked her as soon as they sat down to lunch, the sun at the top of the sky and the birds singing everywhere; the table was full of light, delicious foods that would not make them throw up as soon as the boat started up again, and Ginny almost moaned when she tasted the salad that Lily made with mango and pineapple.

"Yep’’ And it was true.

[...]

On Sunday morning, Ginny almost jumped out of bed when an owl hit her and Harry's bedroom window. The boyfriend was still sleeping peacefully, too tired from the past few days, much more tan than he had a week ago, and looking even more handsome. Already she had a beautiful burnt shoulders, in addition to the red cheeks that her boyfriend said made she look like a cute child.

“Mrs. Wealey.

It is with great pleasure that we inform you that Holyhead Harpies is honored to announce that Ginevra Molly Weasley, 18, is officially part of the team, and that, if she agrees, the new member should pass by the Human Relations office without fail for effect the hiring until Tuesday, 08 of 1999 ...... ''

They accepted her

''Gin?''

''I came in'' She was still gaping at the letter ''I came in Harry'' And then her realized, dropping the long letter with all the rules and terms, she started jumping with joy, smiling from ear to ear '’I was accepetd’’

After the celebrations with Harry, which were based on many congratulations from him, and sex, the two left the room. The in-laws were in the kitchen, James seasoning the fish they had caught the night before, while Lily prepared a dessert pie. Ginny had always thought that the fact that her boyfriend was an incurable romantic came from having parents like that.

Molly and Arthur were in love with each other, there was no doubt, but Ginny always admired the way James treated Lily, always zealous, making sure she had everything she needed around her, paying attention whenever she started talking, as if Lily was the only person in the world.

''Urgh, you guys give me a toothache'' Harry kissed his mother's head as soon as she noticed them both, smearing his finger with stuffing and licking it, and running when Lily tried to hit him with a wet towel for touching the food

''How are you? I saw that an owl arrived earlier today ... any problem?'' James asked, without looking at any of them, focusing on the knife he used to clean the animal in front of him

''A letter from the Harpies arrived'' And as if Ginny said she had won the lottery, her in-laws turned to look at her, eyes wide.

''And ...?'' James looked more anxious than Harry, when she told him that she had entered

''You are talking to the newest player, reserve, from the Holyhead Harpies team'' She could barely contain her smile, almost jumping with joy again. Saying it out loud made everything more and more real.

''Oh Merlin! Ginny this is amazing!'' Before Lily arrived at the daughter-in-law, James ran over her, passing in front and hugging the girl with all enthusiasm

''I knew you could do it, I knew it! I told Sirius, you play so well! Jones would be being blind if she didn't accept you on the team. Oh dear, have you told your parents yet? Harry, we need to have a party when we get back! We will all wear green, in her honor'' He spoke without stopping, looking at her with happiness ''Now I will have to cheer for the Harpies, I cannot be against my daughter-in-law'' Ginny knew she was red, but it was impossible to try to hide enthusiasm when James was like that ''I knew, since Harry told us that you had learned to fly alone, I said that you would still play professionally ... Oh Merlin, we need to celebrate''

''James dear, don't choke her'' Lily pushed her husband away, and Ginny could see that she and Harry were laughing, looking amused by the moment ''I'm so happy, I saw you were nervous earlier, but I didn't want to meddle ... You will look so beautiful in green''

After the hugs, James decided that they shouldn't spend time cooking, and that he certainly wasn't seasoning that fish properly, so they went out to eat, in a restaurant not far away.

''Your father looks happier than me'' She whispered to her boyfriend when they got home and saw that, somehow, they had ordered a cake decorated in Harpy colors and with her name on top

''He loves you a lot more than he loves me .. You had to see it when I told him I asked you to date''

''I think he'll fall back when we have a son'' Harry laughed, kissing her head and nodding

''You know, you're the daughter he never had ... I don't doubt that he would trade me for you. For free'' James came back from the kitchen, Lily and him seeming to discuss what the best drink for the celebration, if wine, beer or Champagne

"To Ginny! The future star of the Holyhead Harpies'' They toasted - each with a chosen drink.

And Ginny was happy that, on that rainy afternoon in her fourth year, she was in detention with Harry. Because she would certainly never find a second family better than that.

[ducksbellorum]

the oncoming storm (listen/download)

a tenth doctor mix – doctor who fandom – arranged by ducksbellorum

trouble - neon jungle Trouble's just the bits-in-between! It's all waiting out there, Jackie. And it's brand new to me-- all those planets and creatures and horizons! I haven't seen them yet, not with these eyes. And it is gonna be... fantastic! They say "Here comes a hurricane Trouble is her middle name!" But I don't look for trouble Yeah trouble looks for me

ghost of a rose - blackmore’s night And I suppose, if it's my last chance to say it... Rose Tyler... Promise me, when you see A white rose you'll think of me I love you so never let go I will be your ghost of a rose

a new horizon - starry musical Come on. It can't end like this. You and me, all the things we've done. Axons, remember the Axons? And the Daleks? We're the only two left. I have no one else. As children, we would wander With strength in every stride The wheat fields were our kingdom When you were by my side

force ten - rush Tim Latimer: He's like fire and ice and rage. He's like the night and the storm in the heart of the sun. He's ancient and forever. He burns at the center of time and can see the turn of the universe, and...he's wonderful. We can circle around like hurricanes Dance and dream like lovers Attack the day like birds of prey Or scavengers under cover

drumming song - florence + the machine We stand there, eight years old, staring at the raw power of Time and Space, just a child. Some would be inspired. Some would run away. And some would go mad. There's a drumming noise inside my head That starts when you're around I swear that you could hear it It makes such an almighty sound

orange sky - alexi murdoch I could pretend, just for a bit, I could imagine they were still alive... underneath that burnt orange sky. I'm not just a Time Lord, I'm the last of the Time Lords. My salvation lies in your love In your love, in your love Well, I had a dream I Stood beneath an orange sky

like a soldier - johnny cash Davros: The Doctor. The man who keeps running, never looking back because he dare not, out of shame. This is my final victory, Doctor. I have shown you... yourself. The simple joy of livin' And I wonder how I ever was that kind But the wild road I was ramblin' Was always out there callin'

you’ve haunted me all my life - death cab for cutie You can spend the rest of your life with me, but I can't spend the rest of mine with you. I have to live on. Alone. That's the curse of the Time Lords. You've haunted me all my life You're always out of reach when I'm in pursuit Long winded then suddenly mute And there's a flaw in my heart's design

an awful lot of running - chameleon circuit Donna: He saves planets, rescues civilizations, defeats terrible creatures... and runs a lot. Seriously, there is an outrageous amount of running involved. He said I was brilliant and I could change the world So many places I've been, there's so much more to see We've got galaxies and planets and moons And an awful lot of running to do

bonus: just a lil thick (she juicy) - trinidad james You’re my favorite, you are; you are the best, you know why? Cause you’re so thick! You’re Mr. Thick Thick Thickety Thick-face from Thick-town, Thickania. And so’s your dad! I'mma need Ike Newton, Kama Sutra, Martin Luther King Jr For that booty, I can dream She ain't fat bruh, she's just a lil thick She ain't fat bruh, she's just a lil thick

[wolffesimp]

Beach Shenanigans

--

summary: the war was won. order 66 was never executed. the 501st, 212th, and 104th battalions along with y/n, obi wan keniobi, ahsoka, anakin, and padmé enjoyed their much needed island vacation. what ensues is beach shenanigans and MORE! stick around for a day full of laughs, crying, tanning, and swimming! 2.3k words of my imagination and clone happiness!

warnings: OH MY GOD SO MANY SHENANIGANS I SHOULD GET PAID FOR THESE ORIGINAL FUCKING IDEAS!!!!!!!!! alcohol is consumed. some mature themes. nothing explicit uhhh lots of fluff and cusswords cuz they make my writing ✨spicy✨yeah that’s pretty much it :)

--

--

y/n was unceremoniously awoken by rex

who was the devoutly loyal boyfriend

for him, she would fight a million more wars

“mornin princess. up and at em!”

“don’t wanna get out of bed...”

just then, there was a knock on the door

before anyone could announce come in

the door was busted down by a very enthusiastic battalion

namely, the 501st

y/n gaped at them

fives and echo held buckets and shovels for a sandcastle

smiles bigger than the deathstar 

jesse’s nose was white from the sunscreen that kix insisted he put on

tup’s naturally curly hair was finally down, a lei adorning his neck

dogma and hardcase had pool noddles in hand

meanwhile fives held a gigantic inner tube

kix had big sunglasses on, fresh glass of orange juice in hand

y/n could only stare for a few minutes

they all began to speak in sync

incredibly excited to finally dip their toes in the water and run on the beach

she laughed at them “suppose i should get out of bed!”

rex laughed with her, shaking his head at the antics of his brothers

standing up and shooing the boys out of her room, he made sure to close the door behind him

oh rex, he was too considerate for his own good

y/n slipped on her favorite swimsuit

along with one of obi wan’s t-shirts

grabbing her beach bag and slipping on her flip flops

she was out of her room

the clones were waiting impatiently downstairs

practically itching with excitement

y/n reached the landing, sliding on her favorite sunglasses

“hey guys! ready to go-“

fives picked her up into her arms, sprinting out of the house

“first one at the beach wins!”

the clones chased after the two

y/n squealed as fives held tightly onto her

“don’t worry y/n, i’m not gonna drop ya.”

“i know but rex is hot on our tail!”

fives panted

“like hell i’m gonna let him win!”

y/n giggled as rex fell behind

“hey rexie, suck my toe!”

“watch your mouth, y/n!”

she stuck her tongue out in response

rex chuckled at the antics of his girl

obi wan, cody, anakin, and padmé were far behind them

probably too mature to participate in such activities

let’s be honest if padmé wasn’t there anakin would be running too

ahsoka ran beside rex, smirking

“rex and i are gonna beat you!”

y/n finally saw the beach at the end of the boardwalk which they were running down

“c’mon fives! we have to win!”

he smirked down at her

“you know we never loose!”

fives cheered as they were the first one to reach the beach

setting down y/n, they waited for the others to catch up

in a frenzy, the clones ran to the ocean

ahsoka and y/n giggled at their faces of pure joy

“hey, wanna share this umbrella and mat i brought?”

ahsoka turned to y/n, smiling contently

“that sounds great!”

the two girls set up their camp for the day

towels beside each other

books, sunscreen, water bottles and everything in between 

y/n also brought out the extra towels she had

setting them by obi wan and cody

“for the clones who forgot their own”

obi wan was distracted by the clones in the ocean

“do they know how to...swim?”

cody and y/n stared at each other

“oh-”

“shit!”

y/n ran towards the clones

“PAUSE! PAUSE! PAUSE! EVERYONE OUT OF THE OCEAN! NO ONE IS DROWNING ON MAMA Y/N’S WATCH! JESSE, DON’T YOU HIDE, GET OUTTA THERE!” 

cody knew it was taken care of

he sat back down, basking in the sun

obi wan laughed heartily as y/n shouted at the clones

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME Y’ALL COULDN’T SWIM!! SWEET MAKER!!!! ONE OF YOU COULD’VE DROWNED!”

“kix would’ve saved us!”

“THERE’S ONLY ONE KIX, YOU IDIOTS!”

ahsoka giggled

y/n took off her shirt “hold this for me, sokie! lifeguard y/n’s on duty”

the boys catcalled y/n teasingly

“oooh yeah y/n!” ahsoka called out, hyping her older sister up 

the boys earning icy glares from rex

she kissed his cheek

making it clear that there was no need for jealousy

y/n waded into the ocean

motioning for them to follow behind her

“now...is anyone feeling nervous?”

well as it turns out...

the clones loved swimming

they all easily caught on

even becoming faster than y/n

much to her dismay

y/n and ahsoka playfully splashed each other

giggling as other clones joined in

cody and obi wan decided to join in on the fun

and when someone splashed cody it went quiet

y/n glared at fives

she knew it was him

fives whistled

looking around as if to say

“who? me?”

cody full force splashed fives back

next thing she knew a splashing war broke out

the 501st, ahsoka, and y/n went up against the 212th, obi wan and 104th 

boil and waxer were head to head with echo and fives

y/n and ahsoka combatted obi wan and cody

it seemed like no one was backing down 

until someone got kicked in the leg

practically drowning

mfs are genetically modified

getting kicked by them would probably seriously injure me i mean jesus christ

“dammit! this is why the 501st can’t have nice things!” rex cursed

tup was weak in the knees

but mama y/n was there to wrap him up in a towel

careful to dry his curly hair

setting him up comfortably

“we’re having lunch soon, so stay put for now, alright hun? make sure to hydrate!”

“thank you, y/n.”

“mhm!”

she took rex’s hand

dragging him back into the ocean

“tup will be fine! hey fives and sokie, let’s play chicken!”

explaining the game rules, y/n perched herself on rex’s broad shoulders

ahsoka was on fives shoulders

smirking at her opponent

“this’ll be fun!”

y/n and ahsoka’s arms collided

their laughs filled the air as they attempted to fight each other off

meanwhile rex clung to y/n’s thighs

making sure his princess didn’t fall into the water

fives attempted to kick his captain

only to earn a snarl and forceful blow to the chest

fives was knocked into the water

sending ahsoka flying 

y/n wheezed 

“holy shit!” rex remarked

quickly recovering her senses, concern taking over

“wait- AHSOKA! FIVES! ARE YOU GUYS OK?”

fives’ thumbs up shot out from the water

ahsoka’s montrals emerging from the blue sea

rex laughed pityingly at fives and ahsoka

“round two?”

well, there ended up being 10 rounds

all four of them were soaking wet by the end 

breathless and ready for a break

rex carried y/n as per request

she could be a little shit sometimes

rex secretly loved it 

ahsoka and y/n made room for fives, rex, and a few other troopers

“hey ahsoka, where are anakin and padmé?”

they looked around curiously

the place where they once resided were empty

“they are probably...ya know...”

y/n made crude gestures eluding to sex

ahsoka cringed, throwing a tube of sunscreen at y/n

“gross!”

rex put his head in y/n’s lap

her hand ran through his blonde curls 

which had been growing out since the end of the war

well maintained by y/n

who insisted on doing his hair

“oh get a room!” ahsoka teased

“we can always make out in front of you guys” 

“ewww”

“please don’t”

“i would rather not see my mother figure do that”

y/n and rex laughed

they were so beautiful together

it was clear that they would spend the rest of their lives with each other

as the day drags on, y/n falls asleep blissfully on her towel

luckily rex helped her with an umbrella so she wouldn’t get sun burnt 

the boys shenanigans continued on without her

fives and echo built a sandcastle the size of a shed

rex, cody, wolffe, and obi wan enjoyed margaritas beside the sleeping y/n

while ahsoka had a virgin piña colada

jesse was buried alive by dogma, tup, kix, and hardcase 

a few of the members of the 104th were flirting with a group of twi’lek girls 

flexing their muscles and battlescars

the remainder swimming in the ocean

the 212th were playing a competitive game of frisbee with island locals

fives and echo decided they were done with their sandcastle 

ushering the generals and jedi to check it out

they didn’t want to admit it, but they were very impressed with their work

y/n was still sleeping

fives was bored

so he took his bucket

washed out the sand

then refilled it with clean water

while echo was talking with the generals and jedi

unintentionally distracting them from the scene that was about to play out 

fives chuckled devilishly

pouring the water onto y/n

she screamed as the cold water hit her face and chest

eyes opening to an entertained fives

until he saw the look in her eyes

fives was so dead

instead of facing death in its face

he took off running, screaming to anyone who would listen 

“Y/N’S GONNA KILL ME!”

“HELP! ANYONE!”

“PLEASE HELP ME!”

*violent screams*

y/n was in hot pursuit of the dumbass himself 

running shockingly fast

not even breaking a sweat

rex cheered her on

having no idea what happened

but wanting to be a supportive boyfriend 

fives looked helplessly at anyone 

having nowhere to run 

y/n stopped running

finding an innocent sea creature on the ground 

“hi lil crab...you are gonna help me out here”

fives continued running as far away as possible from her

the crab settled in her palm

calmed by the aura y/n generated from the force

“fives! stop running! i’m done with your ass!”

fives was panting

knelt over

hot in the face

“i am so not sorry for what i’m about to do”

“wait wha-”

y/n shielded her eyes away as she dropped the crab into his swim trunks 

fives let out an ear piercing scream 

“WHAT IS IT IN MY SHORTS?!! ITS CRAWLING UP MY ASS!!!”

y/n was completely incoherent 

laughing so hard with tears come to her eyes

“IT’S PINCHING ME! OH IT HURTS! OHHHH MY ASS CHEEKS”

y/n couldn’t breathe 

knees buckling as she fell onto the sand 

obi wan and cody were extremely panicked

what the hell is wrong with fives?

obi wan approached him 

fives was jumping up and down

running in circles

looking like a complete madman

“fives what are you doing?”

“CRAB IN MY SHORTS”

“how is there a crab in your shorts?”

“GET IT OUT! IT’S IN MY ASS-”

wolffe was flabergasted 

“what?”

rex crossed his arms

already knowing who the culprit was

“y/n?” 

she staggered over to him

leaning into his chest as she wheezed

“shit- imma...imma pee my pants!! oh fucking hell if i would’ve known this-”

obi wan glared at her

fives screamed once again

“I HAVE TO DO IT!”

“do what?”

all of the 501st instantly knew what he meant

“fives don’t-”

“wait wait wait-”

“i swear to maker-”

“if he does it-”

fives dropped his shorts

revealing his ass and the rest of the land down under

y/n screeched

she saw something she could never un-see

the beach went silent

oh my god

fives just flashed the  e n t i r e  public area

echo looked embarrassed for his vod

but the relief on fives face...

the crab was promptly thrown across the beach

fives quickly pulled up his shorts

praying to god that nobody saw 

they did

“give us a warning next time, fives!” cody said judgementally

obi wan couldn’t even look at him

y/n hid her head in rex’s chest

“i want to go blind”

rex chuckled, playing with her hair sympathetically 

“i know i’m big, y/n!” fives called out teasingly

well someone recovered quickly 

“FIVES!” tup lectured

hardcase and jesse chuckled

meanwhile kix and dogma looked apologetically at y/n

“i can’t believe you...” she muttered to no one in particular 

the rest of the day went swimmingly

filled with even more laughs

a million holophotos 

is that what you call them??

followed by the envious photos from mace windu, plo koon, and kit fisto

they were definitley coming next time

ahsoka tried her first ever drink

don’t worry, only y/n saw! 

and ahsoka was above the drinking age on the planet they were in!

who else would permit her to do it?

besides, she had a theory ahsoka wouldn’t like alcohol

the theory was proven to be true

ahsoka spat it out

giving it back to y/n 

shortly after

y/n and ahsoka baked cookies for the boys

while rex, cody, and wolffe grilled out

wolffe was the real pro

even having an apron that said

“kiss the grill dad”

comet and sinker found it on some sketchy website

it proved to be one of the best gifts 

the rest of the boys brought down silverware, tables, and the firepits

preparing for another long night

waves crashing into each other as the tide receeded back

by the time ahsoka and y/n were back they enjoyed dinner and dessert beach side

a magical sunset painting the sky 

hues of pink, orange and purple

ahsoka snapped a picture of y/n and rex’s not-so-secret-kiss 

the sunset it the background

ahsoka needed to frame it and give it to y/n as a surprise 

the sun was down

fire crackling 

soft conversations between all battalions and jedi

calmed down by the end of the night

the distant sound of music 

to the clones, it felt like a dream

none of them thought they would make it past this war

but here they were

and they couldn’t be more thankful

finally, their future was promised

--

masterlist for more of my content 

[fisherrprince]

how many cowboys can we GET in this forest

(i wrote a minific too)

“I’m gonna do it.”

“Don’t even think about it--”

(CLANK)

“Ow! J -- Lord almighty -- ow.”

“Yeah, what did I just tell you, idiot?”

Voices filter through the dilapidated barn like the last rays of dusty sunlight through the old wood slats, only two people around for either of them. A horse snuffles in the dirt near where the doors would be, searching for dried grass and vehemently ignoring the other horse getting its saddlebag turned inside out.

Vanitas kicks at the leather strap for being as useless as it is. The bag doesn’t have anything aside from extra bowstrings, an empty canteen, a very small stash of coins, and a pair of too-big gloves. He shoves his free hand into the pockets of his coat instead, searching for something he might have missed.

Ventus, on the other hand, has stuck his left pinkie in his mouth, because he chipped a nail deep using a rock to try to break the handcuffs currently around both their wrists, instead of being sensible.

“You don’t get to call me an idiot when you got the both of us arrested,” Ven snaps, sort of undermined by the fact that he’s talking around his finger, which is not bleeding. 

“I got us out, didn’t I?”

Ventus grumbles. Vanitas thinks he catches something like “barely, wouldn’t even be in this situation if we’d followed my plan”, but his immediate response is cut off by something sticking out of the lining in his pocket. Vanitas digs at it, and shoves it up through the fabric, and then grins and pulls it out into the light.

“Hah!” he says, brandishing the tiny metal pin.

“That’s gonna break.”

“Don’t be such a downer, angelface,” Vanitas crows, and yanks their hands closer so he can inspect the lock and ignore Ventus’ spluttering.

He gets about ten seconds of focus before Ven turns curious, again. “What’re you doing?”

“Concentrating.”

“How’re you picking it without a hook?” Ven cranes his neck around to try to see, effectively blocking the light. Vanitas shoos him off.

“I ain’t. I bit it, it’s got a bend on the tip.”

“Oh. Well, ‘mnot gonna ask where you learned all this,” Ven says (“Finally,” Vanitas mutters), “but why do you know all this?” (Ugh.)

“Why d’you?” Vanitas counters, his fingers slipping on the pin. He curses.

“Bored, mostly.” He gets a scoff in response -- it’s not surprising, but it is annoying. Bored. In his pretty lil house with his fancy sheets and the food he doesn’t have to find himself, bored.

“Wanted criminal status has its perks,” Vanitas mutters in response, holding the handcuffs higher so he can see inside the dang things. Luckily for his fed-up levels, Ventus doesn’t press.

Unluckily for his fed-up levels, the pin snaps in the lock.

Vanitas snarls wordlessly and flings the snapped piece across the ground. Ventus watches it fly, and watches him gather the end of his coat and shove it through the dirt with his fist. 

“Aw,” is all Ven says.

“...You know, I could try shooting it.”

Vanitas whips around and glares at him. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding, that was a joke. I was making a joke,” he says through an incredulous smile. How he can be so light and airy -- it’s annoying. Ventus is annoying.

The sun’s orange is fading rapidly, replaced by the burnt twilight blue of an empty sky. It makes Ventus’ horse antsy, and she ambles into the old hay alongside Ven and shoves her nose into his neck, in case there was grass he was hiding in his shirt. He giggles -- it makes his voice squeak, softly -- and pushes her away. Void won’t do that, she knows Vanitas doesn’t have anything for her. She stands by the entrance, guarding.

Ven’s baby-talking his horse. Vanitas rolls his eyes so hard into the back of his head, he ends up rocking himself backwards until he’s laying down on an odd mix of dirt and dry straw. Wouldn’t be the worst thing he’s slept on, but by virtue of still being stuck to Ventus by the wrist, it’s way up at the top of his list. 

Ven doesn’t seem as bothered, resigning himself to sleep next to a wanted criminal. He should ask why. He won’t. Ven stretches, pulling Vanitas’ arm up slightly (considerate enough to move it less), and pats his leg, beckoning his horse to lay down. For some reason, she obeys, and kicks her hooves out to the side with a shffff of unstable dirt below her. Vanitas finds that if he rolls his eyes any more, he’ll give himself a headache, so he shuts them and tries to fall asleep before the cold sets in.

Vanitas’ rolled up coat sleeve has been dislodged, falling back down to his forearm. It moves, when Ventus does, and that means it moves quite a bit in response to his constant fiddling. If he wasn’t trying to sleep, he’d slap his hand away from the loose strings and tell him to knock it off.

It’s a little bit of a comfort, though. Something else, alive, next to him. He’s not admitting that out loud.

“Hey,” Ven whispers, breaking the silence. 

“...what.”

“Forgot to say thanks.”

“Hah? For what?”

“For not leavin’ me, I guess? I’unno, I’d rather be out here than in a jailhouse,” he says, picking at the cuffs of his sleeves.

Vanitas rolls to face him so his arm isn’t twisted to the side and scrunches his nose. “Don’t be. I was saving my own hide.”

“Still counts.”

“Not when you’re stuck to my hide.”

“Alright, jeez, I’m not thankful!” Ven retorts, puffing up his cheeks a little. Vanitas feels a grin tug at the edges of his mouth -- he ‘s only seen Ven mad briefly, and it’s a nice break from his default... blithe, or confused, or straight-up happy.

“What’s that for?”

“Nothin’.”

Ven yanks on the handcuffs. “Don’t laugh at me. You’re so weird.”

His word choice makes Vanitas snort, and yank his wrist back to his own chest. “Et tu, kettle,” he says, and to his great exasperation it makes Ven’s expression soften back into a teasing smile. He resolutely turns onto his back and shuts his eyes.

There’s a shift in the dirt next to him, and a slight tug on his wrist.

“Ah, you’re not so bad,” Ventus mutters, and leans back to lay down himself.

[writingbakery]

Can I request a Bakugou scenario where he's got a soft spot for the reader and everyone teases him about it. On the day he wanted to confess he couldn't find them. But it's getting really late, almost curfew and the reader just comes in, an absolute mess. Somehow everything that could have possibly gone wrong in a day did, especially getting lost. And then they tried to avoid Bakugou because they didn't want him to see them being a hot mess because they like him too?

[of course bb anon! we all need soft katsuki in our lives 💓]

“Soft For You”

pairing —> katsuki bakugo x gender neutral!reader

genres —> fluff, light angst, mild pining

warnings —> cursing

to say that bakugo katsuki had a crush on you would be a slanderous, bullshit lie. a crush? pathetic. he didn’t do crushes, certainly not on loud, annoying pains in the ass like yourself. a crush. what a load of crap. no, bakugo didn’t consider what he felt for you to be a measly, half assed crush.

he’s pretty sure he’s in love with you.

it took a stupidly long and painful amount of time for the hotheaded blond to come to this realization, sleepless nights spent staring at the ceiling in his tiny dorm room, wondering what you were doing four doors and one hallway over. his palms sweat tenfold whenever he’s near you, fingertips sparkling with uncharacteristic nerves - he’d nearly lit the new curtains in the common room aflame because you’d smiled at him sweet, soft all the way to your eyes.

pathetic.

he couldn’t even control his quirk around you, let alone his racing heart and mind. he hated feeling like this, so completely out of control, unable to focus on anything that wasn’t your laugh, the way your eyes scrunched up when you were concentrating, how your nose twitched right before you smiled-

yeah, he’s got it bad. and he’s going to do something about it before it eats him alive. or before kirishima and sero die by his hand.

the pair were relentless in their teasing of him, always right at his heels everytime he so much as breathed in your direction. sero was particularly fond of leaving tape hearts with both of your initials on all of his training shit and notebooks, a sly wink shot bakugo’s way every time he found another “tape-sterpiece”.

the lanky bastard’s just lucky he runs fast.

kirishima is at least a bit more helpful, trying to coax bakugo into spending more time with you - he’ll ask you both to study and then mysteriously disappear, or invite the group to dinner and send the two of you to the wrong restaurant accidentally.

he’s trying to be a good wingman. bakugo still wants to drown him in a shallow pond.

no matter what he tries, however, you still seem as hopelessly oblivious to his feelings as you did when you started at U.A, and he’s slowly starting to lose his mind. he pulled out your chair at dinner, paid, let you borrow his limited edition engraved metal all might pen when you’d studied together - nothing.

so he’s doing something about it, once and for all.

the night before, he’s up till the sun rises trying to write a letter that doesn’t make him seem like the lovesick little bitch he is, tying it hastily to a bouquet of flowers and making sure no one touched the brownies he’d made you in the fridge. he’s a mess and he knows it, crimson eyes near bloodshot and his temper even worse. kaminari nearly loses a hand trying to steal a brownie, and mina has to drag everyone away from bakugo’s personal space as he waits for you after classes are over. he saw you during them but barely, only flashes as you raced from place to place - just his luck that the one day he needs you, you’re everywhere but pestering him.

back at the dorms he’s wearing a hole in the carpet of the common area, pacing and stressing and pacing and stressing - he hasn’t had a chance to talk to you all fucking day, and the nerves are snapping his resolve. everyone else is giving him a wide berth - mineta sneezed in the kitchen and bakugo already had a palmful of explosives ready to launch right at his face.

it’s not till nearly curfew that you stumble into the dorms, soaking wet and looking more miserable than he’d ever seen you. today had absolutely not been your day in the slightest, rushing from one exam to the next that you weren’t feeling very confident on. aizawa had given you extra time to finish, but then ordered you to do double training in exchange - your poor legs could barely hold you up, and you were a sweaty mess under your uniform. to ice the misery cake of your terrible day, it had started pouring on the way back to the dorms, and you were too tired to run through it. instead, you had trudged sadly through the awful weather, finally making your way into the common room and face to face with the one person you really didn’t want seeing you like this - bakugo katsuki, the boy you were head over heels for.

immediately you duck into the kitchen, offering a hasty wave to the fed up blond as you desperately try to avoid him - you looked like absolute garbage, you couldn’t have him seeing you like this. but clearly, bakugo has other plans, one burning hot hand reaching out to yank you back by the elbow.

“like fucking hell im gonna let you run off again, (y/n)! what the hell, dumbass! i’ve been trying to talk to you all damn day!” he growls, and for a second you think your day’s gonna go from bad to worse - an angry bakugo was a normal one, but a sleep deprived, raging one? you mentally hoped momo would pick nice floral arrangements for your funeral.

instead, he lets go of your arm to shove the half singed bouquet and letter into your hands, shifting awkwardly in front of you as he waited for your reaction. open mouthed and completely confused, you pry open the burnt letter carefully, attempting to read past the char marks and his rough handwriting.

clearly you’re not moving fast enough for him, an irritated groan escaping him as he runs his hands through his disheveled hair. “i like you, idiot! i’ve liked you for a long fuckin’ time! so i’d appreciate it if you would just hurry up an-“

you cut off his angry rambling by placing both hands on his chest, tiptoeing up slightly to press a kiss to his lips. they’re warm like you’d thought they’d be, soft and gentle against yours - you’ve caught him off guard for once. pulling away a little shyly, you hug the burnt flowers to your chest. “i’ve sort of wanted to do that for a while,” you admit, a flush to your cheeks. “dinner tomorrow? we can go to that one place you like.”

for a good minute he’s completely silent, mouth opening and closing a few times as though you’ve completely reset his brain.

error 404, bakugo katsuki not found, send assistance, backup requested-

and then he’s pulling forward by the waist, pressing his lips against yours with a rough sort of urgency that leaves you breathless.

“dinner tomorrow. but we’re going to that cafe you like, idiot,” he says quietly as he pulls away, a hint of red tinging his cheeks.

you can’t find it in you to complain.

[i made myself laugh with “tape-sterpiece! feedback is always welcomed, i hope you enjoyed this lil scenario!💓]

[commonalex]

Broken Nose

-Oh my, a talking fox!

-Oh my, a talking fattie!

-Wait, what?

   I don’t know what else I could expect coming down here from the tower today. I had this bad feeling stepping into the woods for the first time. It was really on the nose.

-He he, “on the nose”. Never gets old!

-Huh?

   The fox keeps on giggling but maybe not on purpose. Judging by the dirty yellowish fur and the burnt patches on its weak body, you could say this creature has seen better days.

-Uhhh girl? Still here. I can hear, you know.

   Wherever this fox was (before it comes to horrify me) the fire must’ve get it just in time, but it doesn’t look like hurting. On the contrary, the fox is playfully stretching like a cat on the dirt. I guess I seem so damn funny (or pathetic) for it to dare to come so near. Not that I would mind some chit chat at the time, I haven’t spoke to a person (or whatever that is) for far too long. But the way it follows me around with this sarcastic laugh rubs me the wrong way.

-Come on now, foxxy, I’m seriously busy right now. I can’t afford spending time with you. Stay away and no one gets hurt, nosey.

“Nosey”? Ha ha! It’s like you already know!

-Whatever.

   I throw middle fingers and keep on my route putting in and out the batteries of my walkie talkie. No luck. Dad (or whoever was talking at the frequency I was catching from the tower) didn’t speak a word again and of course no one’s around here as far as I can see. So I already had my misery, but I guess I should come down here to play hide and seek besides still life. Thank god it’s still afternoon with the sun beaming through the trees so I am not scared shitless yet.

But still, the fire keeps on burning whatever is on its way and no one bothers if I’m burned alive or not one of those days. So here comes the panic again. I’m climbing a tree to see the valley burning a bit better, while screaming furiously on the walkie talkie in case signal comes up. I scream my lungs out, touch my throat, lose balance, slip of the trunk and fall face first. When I managed to get up blood was pouring off my nose like a fountain. I guess I knew better when I was staying in the watch tower picking my…

-...”nose”, huh? He he he. You are funny, but you really don’t listen.

   I turn around to stare at the fox in a way so it gets the message and run away from me but here it is with its eyes shining like it’s waiting for something. I walk slowly to a direction, here it is following me, here it is talking shit about me, here it is turning to go somewhere else, here I am trying to catch her from going towards the fire, and we’re back at the start. Fuck it, I say. I let her leave to stop worrying. And that’s how I get lost in here. You see, all this time I had the smoke as compass and with all this chasing I failed to notice that the fumes scattered all over the place. I raise my head to see the sun radiating this weird red-like colors. Why on earth am I still here?

-Does anybody listen on this channel? I know some of you do. Dad, can you hear me? I’m the fire lookout and try to find you all this time. If you hear me, tell me your location so I can get to you. Copy?

   I’d be damned if this walkie talkie thingy is even necessary at this point. They have probably gone deaf by my stupid screaming.

-Just hoping you understand how futile this is. It’s like the thousandth time I tell you that at this exact point, but I have my hopes that one day you will stop doing this. Mainly to yourself. Just like I have my hopes that you will stop wearing shorts that make your thighs look unevenly thick.

-Can you please help me with your mouth shut? All it takes is a second to become human torches. I don’t need your kind of silly attitude.

-Pardon me? What attitude. I said what I said for your own good. But I don’t judge you. Spending all this time trapped in here, no wonder why your brain got a bit rusty.

-Trapped?

   The fox’s looking at me head to toes, sighs and sits in front of me waiting for something once again. What, exactly? No idea, but I wish it would be something that would take my guilt away and leave this thing get baked. It would smell like cooked fox all over to the watch tower.

-Highly doubt you could smell anything with a nose that fucked up.

-Shut-your-god-damn-mouth.

   I get caught off guard by the walkie talkie screeching with an incomprehensible voice. I don’t get much, just small phrases like “wish you could hear me” or “one sign of life” and such. All enough to hear my dad on this. I press to reply with my hands shaking by the stress. I keep on losing him, without ever getting my voice across. Signal worsens, but if I can hear him that must mean he is somewhere around here, right? But what if he is somewhere near the fire? I’m mic screaming “DAD JUST TELL ME IF YOU’RE HERE” like a ten year old and that’s where I lose all contact.

   Trying to catch a breath on a treat I get blood in my mouth (which has got everywhere and made me look sick) and burst into tears. I feel finished. I watch the ash raining down on my from the coal black slope on my right and I’m feeling shaky once again. I don’t even know if I’m crying being here all alone or because by the next few meters I could see my dad… You know how. I don’t know what I’m going to do if I see something like that.

-Come on, girl, please, don’t say that. I’ve listened to you say that like a hundred times and every time my heart is screaming for mercy. Come, get up.

Barely even remembered the fox is there all along.

-What do you want from me?

-Dunno. Company? A little adventure? This boredom you feel all this time on that watch tower all alone, I get that too. But you only make us the favor to come down here and spend time when you catch your dad on the radio. Only then I really have something to do.

-So you have seen me up there?

-If I seen you? What else could a fox occupy it’s mind inside those fucked up woods than stalk a fire lookout in her fourties? You know, playing with the binoculars, searching up radio frequencies, drinking beer and listening to the same music all day from her cd player? Is there anything better around here?

-What forties? I’m seventeen.

-Well I’m telling you, you absolutely are in your thirties at least.

-Why do I even bother.

   But chatting with the fox really makes you forget, whatever bs you have to endure. And you have to endure a lot. And a lot of stuff the fox says are disses that don’t make much sense. However company is very much needed at this point, inside a dirt pool filling up with ash and red smoke.

-I’m not here to make your life difficult.

-I don’t even know why you’re here. And how come you talk? If that’s not too much.

-Why are you stuck on these questions by now? You do this every time. Even though that’s the first time I see fire getting that big around here. And to be fair you got lost in the woods too early this time. And to be honest I’m kinda like a baby boy right now, asking for his mama, cause I have no clue what the hell is going on.

-”Baby boy”? Are you male?

   He looks at me with the most dead and disappointed stare a fox could ever have. I don’t know why I assumed he was a girl. But since he can hear me in my head, I apologize for perpetuating those kind of stereotypes. My bad. Ok? The fox nods as agreeing. we are ok.

   During all that I forgot I had the walkie talkie on my back pocket so when it started “whistling” again I got shivers. Trying to hold it with my shaky fingers I drop it like the useless scum I am. Even the fox gave me a disappointed look.

   The signal was better this time. I could hear for about five minutes non stop before I tried (with no luck) to respond. This is for sure not my dad. Those weird fast paced accents that invade the back of my ears are definitely from my mother. She even said her catchphrase “look at your own lil princess”.

“...should we keep on putting up a show anymore, darling?”.

“I’m tired. You wanna hear me say it? I say it right now.“.

“...I don’t understand? So am I the bad one and the heartless bitch once again?”.

“...please accept the bitter reality. We really missed the boat...”.

And then silence again.

   Same attitude, same lines played out a thousand times in the kitchen or in front of people. The same arguing over and over again with dad. The reason was always dumb, but her voice here doesn’t seem so irritating. Something serious must have happened for my dead mommy to cry like a pig.

-No crying? So you’re over it?

-Don’t know.

-I get it, we’re still at the point where you adapt to all this. We have a little bit of walking left till you have to get back.

-Tell me, what’s this thing you seem to know but I don’t?

-We know the same. I’m just here as a reminder, like an alarm clock of some sort. You know, like that fox alarm clock you had besides your bed when you were younger? Do you remember? You even brought it to the watch tower. Weird to have an alarm clock if you’re waking up at noon, though. You a freaking fire lookout, woman.

   It was a while until my brain got to work again. The fox was right, he is just like that alarm clock I have since a kid. How did I not see it before? And what does that mean now? Well, we know we won’t get any further just by asking. I don’t know if what I feel about that creature is trust, intimacy or curiosity. And those enigmatic stuff he throws here and there get tiresome. We walk and chit chat without noticing the orange fog swallowing everything within a meter around us. All we see in front of us now are burnt tree trunks and melting animals. All of them teddy bears I had while being a baby potato. If my heartbeat wasn’t hitting those three digits I would get goosebumps right now.

   I’m covering mouth and nose with my hand and try to guess where the fox is, as he’s running in circles stunned. He doesn’t seem to care if we find my parents before we all get barbecued anymore. He is too busy looking somehow concerned at all this damaged landscape.

-Tell me, how long have you seen me in secret? Spent all the summer over there and I never saw a single soul besides you right now, my secret admirer.

-Are you serious? What summer? Get it together. We wasted our young years here. But what am I even saying and basically to whom. Sometimes I wish I had your luck playing in this kind of playground. You could say disconnection from the environment has its moments.

-I’m volunteering for the summer, that’s all. It was written on the papers I signed, too. I think.

-Wait… Is that it?

-After all that I’m going back home to find out if where I’m studying by September. It’s pretty much over.

-...so this was it all along? Disconnecting? -Wait, did I take the entrance exams? My brain just froze.

-Would you shut up about your exams? Something’s wrong.

-How could I forget exams, though? After all this studying?

-Oh man. We really are in deep shit and now’s the time for you to turn your nose up at what is happening.

-Oh, here we go with these nose jokes again.

-No, no. Didn’t mean it in a literal way. That was unfortun… Ah, you get it, right?

-Maybe that’s why there’s not a single soul down here. You must’ve killed them all with your crap.

-I don��t have a good feeling about this. Our routine feels off. We have done this walk so many times and something’s not quite ok right now. It seems as if we’re stuck at the same place for hours and I guess…

-”Guess” what…?

-...we’re lost. I guess.

   Oh-you-don’t-say. When you spend so much time fucking with a broken person’s nerves, you tend miss what’s happening. We’re technically blind and we just go around for hours. Are we running away from the fire? Going straight at it? Only god know, because everything turned brown around here. We’re bumping trees and get shitless when we step on those blackened teddy bear bellies. I don’t lose my chance of cursing out the fox for driving us here, but all he cares about it digging holes while “trying to find our designated course”. That’s how we spend our next hour. Or maybe more since my watch stopped.

-How much battery is left in the walkie talkie?

-One line. And I swear I had it full, just like every time.

-”Just like every time”?

-Every time I climb down the watch tower to get here.

   The fox leaves the digging on the side and looks at me with his eyes wide open. My brain gets stuck for a moment and before he gets to respond I get vertigo. When I return to normal he keeps on asking again and again if I “know”, as if I get what he is trying to say. I’m searching for the sun above us to make everything around me stop flickering, but no luck, so I have the fox right beside me irritating me with these questions while I’m throwing up.

-Oh boy, you really don’t listen. That’s it, we’re going back. Now.

-Back where? I have my parents over here!

-You play the fool all this time. We have to go back to the starting point, don’t you get it? With you at the watch tower listening to your parents on the radio, coming down to the woods and find me while breaking your nose. Dunno how more fucked up your nose can be than right now, but we might save our asses.

-You are the most irritating talking fox I’ve ever seen.

-Wow, that’s a lot. Now give me the walkie talkie.

-Stop, YOU’RE GONNA BREAK IT!

-WOULD YOU STOP THE BULLSHIT SO WE CAN SAVE OURSELVES?

-DON’T.

   The walkie talkie slips, falls upon some cracked branches and shutters to a million pieces. Our eyes are glued to the ground, scanning for every piece in case we lose it. Time suddenly hits the brake, the orange fog from before has grown to this sick deep red light from the sun that sets down the edge of the valley as if we are in literal hell. Is this it?

-Nah. Not yet at least.

-Cut it out.

-Sure.

   I’m paralysed. My head can’t get through this twisted procedure anymore; days are marching one after another as the same exact instance being copied again and again. I tried so much to resist but my “job” here stopped helping a long time ago. Every bit on me seems hurt and rough. How long was I force to see everything slowly catch fire as I try to not get burnt alive? I could never know. All I know is how much washed out I feel here. Breaking my face, getting lost and playing chase with flames while asking for my dad through a stupid walkie talkie. Not that I ever need it to hear him. I got him right beside my ear all the time.

Even now.

“Stop acting like that, you’re an old man. It’s like you think I’m not in pain myself.”.

“But is it so easy for you?”.

“You think I’m not suffering inside? We’re in the same boat and we’re sinking.”.

“And what is she stood up right now? Looking at you and asking you what were we discussing just before?”.

“Twenty years, dear. Twenty years talking ‘bout the same damn things. Our daughter is gone, don’t you listen to the doctors? Am I wasting away on my own? Am I struggling to keep up with money by myself just to keep on hoping? Why are you doing this? Why in front of others, dear?”.

“I won’t bear this. I can’t bear this.”.

“It’s time to let her rest, us too. Or whatever is left there...”.

“Don’t cry, damn it. Don’t you see I’m holding it myself?”.

   That’s my mom. Stiff as one can be at first just to breakdown in the end. Now my dad must hug her with those big ass arms until she eventually calms down. What I’d do to see them now, even though they must got so old through all those years.

   When my mother stopped sobbing I wiped my eyes and saw the fire waiting ten steps away. Clothes, shoes, all of them slowly melt and drop to the boiling ground. I take the fox in my arms and run away in case we can get saved somehow. The fox doesn’t seem to have much time left. All I see is burnt fur and burst open skin. I barely have the courage to look at his face with this bloody tongue and two concerning little eyes.

-Can you still talk?

-As much as you can run.

   He knows what he’s talking about. My body is slowing growing heavy and lags to respond. We are really dead meat.

-So nothing in here is real, huh? It’s all in my head.

-Does it matter? The point was to get a bit away from all of this. To stretch this as much as possible, until you wake up or until you… You know…

   I’m not forcing the conversation any more. I’m grateful for his stance amidst all this chaos. He looks at me and nods to seal the mutual understanding. I smile and the saltiness from the tears and the blood goes right into my mouth. Awkward yet suitable.

   When my feet start to sink from the upward sprint up the hill, the watch tower is finally revealed about a hundred meters away.

-A little bit of patience, we’re here.

-All of this is so unnecessary. We’re gonna be consumed by the fire in the end.

-I need to talk to them. Last try. Promise.

-As if we had more.

   The rusty ladder moans while I climb it with the fox on my right soldier. The door of the tower room slams by the wind and all the glass windows are shattered with dust pilling up all the way to my knee. All the beer can thrown out, all the books and cds buried; only the desk with the main radio got away through all this. I lie down the fox on a corner of the bed and I examine the completely fucked up world outside. Everything is red and everything flickers in the flames. It’s a matter of minutes now.

   I plug the radio and fix the antenna that gets dragged by the wind outside. The fox is watching me like he wants to make sure I do everything right. I make a weird gesture with my hand to reassure him during his last moments and he smiles. Then I play with the mic switch in my hands due to awkwardness. How much time do I have left? Judging the fire coming close to the window I kinda get the idea. But it seems I don’t need this kind of boogieman anymore to live and move in here; just patience. So I’m looking the frequencies one by one, calling and waiting for a response.

-I don’t know if you can hear me, maybe you escaped. Old people don’t particularly stand those situations. I just called for the sake of it. I called to say it’s ok and I understand, dad. And please tell the other not to whine and be bitter. The only thing missing right now is one last hug with you. If only I could feel a touch on my hand, damn it. Anyway, I’m tired. Be strong. I have no idea if, but I wish we meet again someday. Somewhere by the sea if it’s easy. So much desolation and so much pine, I can’t stand it anymore.

   It’s like I had it written down with the words flowing so easily. I repeated them about twenty or thirty times out loud until my mouth went completely dry. I turn off the mic and look at the flame waving me from every direction. I wave back.

-We’ve said it well, even though no one got to hear it. The most beautiful in vain gesture ever.

How poetic. Didn’t know he had it in him.

   I leave the radio in a frequency full of white noise to scratch my ears to oblivion. I don’t wanna hear my head go off until they reply back. Afterwards I give a tight hug to the fox with all power I have left to a point I think I’m strangling him. He doesn’t flinch, he understands. We sigh together and watch in slow motion the whole process. Fire knocking on the door to come in, surrounding everything, painting them all with a different color as I leave my sweat (and something more) on this cheap mattress. Maybe they didn’t get my message, I think, and I’m kinda holding a grudge at myself. Maybe if I had another chance I wouldn’t waste so much time. Maybe I could even wake up and see them, even if that meant I would die right after. Talk about bad luck, twenty years here and the alarm clock never get me out of bed once. My nerves. I have so much anger I could a person right now. I swear if someone would close my nostrils right now I’d explode from rage.

-So much for breaking your nose, I guess.

-For the love of god SHUT UP.