#and especially not on your home project boat

[ssaalexblake]

Lol getting an offer to go sailing on my brother in law's home made boat... I think I'll pass thanks.

[dystopyx-blog]

Stuck in TWST without meds

and also they're yandere or something

@shironakuronatasa here you go pookie <3

Because everyone is different, I'm gonna be focusing on the meds I take and the things I experience! If you're inspired to write one of your own based on your types of meds, go for it! I'd love to see others' takes on this :3

I'm still writing in 2nd person, but you/mc is heavily based off of me!

(And if you still want a personalized one but don't want to write it, my commissions are open/hj)

Tw for one mention of suicidal ideation.

Imagine...

You don't quite have a clusterfuck of things going on in your head, but sometimes it can feel like it. Autism, Anxiety, depression, and ADD. Thankfully, you have access to medication, and they work well for you.

Although you can't keep the downward spiraling from the depression and anxiety away completely, it is far more manageable with your medication. You've found that when off them, you are far more prone to completely fall apart at even the slightest inconvenience. It feels like constant stormy waters, with stormclouds that only make the waves worse. But when on them, the storm disappears. Yes, the waves still get rocky and tip your boat from side to side, but you're emotionally stable enough to handle them.

Then the meds for your ADD. With them you have the razor sharp focus to not only take care of projects and work, but also to simply take care of yourself. When off of those, even simple tasks like taking out the trash can take hours, especially since you so easily forget steps, and will stop the chore in the middle, genuinely thinking it's complete.

But you have your meds, so you manage just fine.

Until you're sucked into Twisted Wonderland.

First of all, even if you had already taken the meds for anxiety/depression, there's not much they could do in the face of being transported and consequently trapped in a different dimension. But they do still help, and instead of bawling, you manage to keep a cool (enough) head and get yourself settled into Ramshackle.

But they don't last you long. They had built up in your system enough to last you a few days, but time and circumstances were not on your side.

Even though Grim is by no means an emotional support pet, and is by all means a little shit, he manages to push his pride aside when he can tell you really need it.

Especially the days where you wonder if death is what will bring you back home...

Grim will act as if he helps you for his own purposes, but he is genuinely there for you.

The others, however...

First of all, quite a few of them don't completely understand... you're extra sad and spacey, but you had some kind of magic to help with it back home, but you don't have them here, and without them you get... sad and spacey?

Riddle probably sees it as some pathetic excuse. It's not until after his overblot that his tune completely changes and he is giving you all the special treatment. Even if you mess up on purpose, even if it's something that really frustrates him, he'll justify it as you not knowing any better. Which is patronizing as hell.

Ace will use it to his advantage. Getting into trouble and having you take the brunt. And you play along with it, because, again, Riddle is treating you like an incompetent child, so you are all for raising Cain with Ace. What Ace really loves about this, though, is that it makes you more willing to hang out with him, and more likely to dislike Riddle.

I imagine Deuce has something going as well, though I don't quite know what, and neither does he. But he finds a kindred spirit in you. Study sessions with him are a MUST, and you share your different study and coping tactics, while he stares at your lovely face.

Trey relishes in caring for you. If you're having any kind of sudden increase in stress or sorrow, he is fucking there. He will scoop you up and take you to the kitchen and treat you with his home baked goodies right then and there. Same with your academics, if you need help with academics, it's to the kitchen for tutoring. And as bad as it is, he finds himself wishing you'd give in and lean on him completely.

Leona will also be there for you in depressive episodes. He sees how you always go to Grim when your upset, notices the little things that Grimm does that helps, and starts subtly using them whenever you're upset. Not even just if it's depression/anxiety related, if you're upset with him specifically he'll start purring in that low register that has your heart slowing. He'll rest his body on your chest as a weighted blanket. He'll let you pet him and comb through his hair. All until all you associate Leona with is safety and comfort–as you should from a mate.

Ruggie is SUCH a little meanie at first! Specifically regarding your ADD. Once he sees how much it genuinely upsets you, though, he'll back off. He does have a manipulative streak, though, and will use your anxiety against you. Any way he can get you to distrust others and seek him out is a good way.

Jack is one who does not fuckin understand at first, but once he does, he's supportive. He asks if there's anyway he can help and you offhandedly tell him about emotional support dogs, and he is locked on. He's embarrassed by it at first, of course, but he can tell how safe it makes you feel, and like Leona he is completely fucking for that. Though he won't just be emotional support, no, he'll be the guard dog chasing away anything that could possibly trigger you.

School is very difficult for you without your ADD meds. You can manage, but it is far more stressful and difficult than it needs to be. So, of course, you have those generously offering to help you–specifically Azul, who's more than willing to help... at a price, of course.

Floyd really likes when you daze off in class... When you're staring blankly, mind thinking about so many things except whatever the professor is droning on about. The way your eyes glaze over, the way you're so focused on whatever the fuck is going on in your head, the way your lips part ever so slightly... All your idle habits are endlessly entrancing to him. And, goes without saying, every single time you're especially depressed, he offers a good squeeze session.

Jade, the manipulative bastard, will purposely set you up for failure so that you feel like you need to go to him for help. Because lord knows Azul will make you pay for it, but not your good friend Jade. Plus, if you ever mention how hiking can help with mood, lord save your soul...

Jamil is such a DICK. He will be degrading you at every second, completely taking over whatever it is you try to do. Even if it has nothing to do with him. God, you remind him of Kalim, but at least you don't have the nerve to be so fucking happy all the time. A sick part of him likes when you're sad. You're less annoying when you're depressed, specifically, without little energy or motivation to do or be anything else. He'd happily take care of you then. He'll do whatever you need done. You'd probably do it wrong anyway.

Kalim feels so fucking seen and understood. He honestly felt like some kind of freak for so much of his life, but you... you're kinda like him! A lot sadder though. Your very existence brightens his life, so he's made it his mission to brighten yours. He also really can't stand it when you're with others. It's so obvious you two are meant for each other! He views your shared ADD symptoms as evidence of soulmateship.

Vil is another case of not fully understanding. You're making excuses. Until he takes it a bit too far, pushes even more than what you can handle, and you fully break down in front of him. You're so completely and utterly vulnerable in that moment. He doesn't know if it's a very dedicated manipulation tactic to get out of his nitpicking, but... he becomes a little more sympathetic with you. Vil recognizes that, for whatever reason, you do in fact seem to struggle more with certain things. And yet, despite that, you still try. You continue push yourself, even if what youre pushing towards is, by other people's standards, the norm/mediocrity/minimum. And in you he starts to see a bit of himself. Especially since, let's face it, with depression, anxiety, and add, it is very likely you relate more to Vil than you do Niege. He helps you, and in turn you help him, though you don't even realize it. Helping you be happier with yourself helps him be happy with himself. And he'll fucking slaughter anyone who takes you away from him.

Rook, like Vil, is easily able to recognize how much you not only struggle, but how much you try. And he finds that incredibly beautiful. Needless to say, he is often watching you. Everything you do is enchanting. He memorizes every. single. stim. and habit. Sometimes when you get frustrated, he just wants to scoop you up in his arms and shower you in kisses, but then you'd realize he broke into your room...

Epel will see how much you get pushed around, and takes it upon himself to defend you. He also sees a bit of himself in you. Sometimes he purposely waits around you, and at the first sign of trouble, he'll attack.

Sometimes you just get too fucking overstimulated and you need a break. And in those times, you've found Idia to be the best person to go to. You both started off pretty distant. You approached him, upset, and asked for a quiet place. You put in headphones and just laid down right there. The two of you just sat in silence, with headphones in, doing your own things, blocking out the world. And, oh, how Idia came to crave those moments. He began to depend on you for comfort, ans hoping that you would similarly come to depend on him. You're different from those other normies, you're the only one who gets him so please just stay with him! He will start to modify his room to be the perfect sensory room, the only place in the school you can go to fully regulate yourself. He starts going out with you, acting as if you're really helping him step out of his shell, when really he just wants to spend more time with you, and will continue to shy away from everyone else and hide behind you. This man desperately needs you to need him as desperately as he needs you.

You are so. Fucking. Cute. Malleus finds your every single quirk so fucking attractive. He doesnt like, however, seeing you so upset. So sad. And the kind of sad where he is helpless to help you. He also really doesn't like it when you're upset at yourself. Don't you realize you're perfect? And who cares if you're not good at any of the school stuff? Malleus doesn't. You don't need any of those skills anyway, with Malleus Draconia here to always take care of you.

if you want the rest of diasomnia or the secret character I subtly didn't include lmk

part two out now!!

[mariasont]

Spoiled - A.H

a/n: felt feral writing this hope y'all enjoy it as much as i did

think im ovulating or something YALL IDK

anyhow happy reading let me know what yall think 🤭

masterlist

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: in which hotch overhears your conversation with penelope and decides to do something about it

warnings: 18+ MDNI, phone sex!, sex toy!, fem solo masturbation, penelope being a little instigator lmao, dirty talk, soft dom!hotch, established relationship, honestly a little bit of angst whoops, reader is slightly dramatic like hotch has been gone for prob 5 hours STAND UP!

wc: 3.3k

"Penelope Grace Garcia!"

Her comment earned her the full government name, igniting a burst of laughter that you attempt to smother behind your hand. Sinking deeper into the couch, you dismiss the absurdity with a shake of your head. You even find yourself glancing over your shoulder even though you know no one is home.

"You know, I really shouldn't be telling you this, but trust me, that's the least of our worries in this relationship."

"Look, whatever floats your love boat or rocks your bed frame is strictly your business," she comments as if that were the most casual thing to say.

You giggle, a warmth spreading through you as you tread across the kitchen tiles, the phone pressed against your ear. 

"Oh my god, Pen," you let out a laugh, feeling a soft crimson spread across your cheeks, while your thighs swell with the thoughts of your doting boyfriend. "No, no, like I said we're more than okay in that department. It just gets, well, lonely when he's away."

Your hand curls around the neck of your favorite bottle of red, easing the cork free with a satisfying pop. The liquid swirls into the glass, a little more than probably necessary, as the gentle hiss of water beginning to simmer breaks through the kitchen. 

"You, my dear, are a saint among mortals."

"Well, he makes it easy," you shrug, pouring the rice into the bubbling pot, a cloud of steam rising to paint the windows.

"Honestly, I don't know how you manage. I'd be itching for it, especially if it's as good as you say," Penelope admits with a dramatic sigh.

You laugh, propping the phone against the backsplash, its speaker projecting the conversation into the room. Aaron stands just out of sight, unnoticed, taking in your every syllable.

"When he gets back, trust me, every second apart seems like a small price to pay."

"Ever thought about getting yourself a toy? You know, for those long nights?" Penelope hints not (at all) so slyly. 

The wine almost sprays from your mouth as you stifle a surprised splutter. Aaron, still unseen, raises an eyebrow.

"Oh, um, no, I haven't really considered... a toy," you murmur, cheeks burning. You clear your throat, pretending to be engrossed in the simmering pot. "Aaron might have an opinion on that, I guess."

Your attempt at nonchalance was failing, you definitely knew that.

Aaron rested casually against the door frame, a soft smile touching his lips at the sound of your bashful laughter. He'd always had a soft spot for the way your cheeks bloom with color--a sight he wasn't afraid to go great lengths to witness. The idea of a toy seemed to pique his curiosity, drawing a pensive frown as his attention stayed fixed on you for a moment longer.

He slips away silently, his steps carrying him to the front door as you continue your conversation with Penelope.

The call disconnects with a soft click, and you're left in the quiet of the kitchen, unwittingly promising to keep Penelope updated. Turning back to the stove, you stir the sauce with a distracted hand, your lips downturned. Aaron should have been home by now.

The dining table is set, candles flickering, their glow falling on the chair he's yet to fill. You let out a sigh, stealing another look at the ticking clock. The food is ready, but with each passing minute, it grows cooler, just the unfamiliar feeling of disappointment settling in your chest. 

The audible twist of the key catches your attention, and you can't help but glance over your shoulder. Aaron walks in, his lips curving into a smile upon seeing you.

"Hi, my gorgeous girl," he greets, his voice a familiar sound that kindles a familiar flutter into your heart.

He places his briefcase down, the sound muted, and as he approaches, his lips brush a tender kiss against your temple. The annoyance that had been bubbling inside you melts away with his touch. Damn him.

You turn to him, a sheepish "Hi" fluttering out, your cheeks tinged with heat. It's a feeling that's always fresh, the way he still makes you feel like you're back in high school, hearts doodled in the margins of your notebook.

Aaron settles into his chair, the soft scrape of wood against the tile following his movements.

"Sorry 'M late," he offers, his tone warm, appreciative. "Everything looks and smells wonderful, honey. Thank you."

His fingers gently sweep a loose strand of hair from your face, his smile softening you, disarming you. He's so beautiful.

"You're welcome," you reply, your cheeks growing warmer with each word. "And, um, I hope it's okay. It might be a bit cold. I thought...I guess I assumed you'd be home sooner."

You voice trails off, leaving behind a trail of embarrassed concern, wondering if perhaps you'd somehow overstepped. 

Aaron looks at you, his eyes turning kind as he discerns the unease on your face.

"I'm sorry, baby, got held up with a little errand." He bites into the food, and a gratified hum indicates his approval. "This is delicious."

You find yourself beaming at the praise. He had a talent for that--praising you, almost as if he'd made it his life mission. This was a first for you in a relationship, and it's exactly why the late nights and time spent alone didn't weigh so heavily. 

After dinner, you're rinsing off the plates when Aaron's hands draw you close, his hands claiming your waist, the heat of his palms radiating through the fabric of your shirt. He plants a soft kiss on your shoulder.

"Let me help with that. You're spoiling me," he insists, his words spoken into your damp skin.

You lean back into his embrace, his chest flush against your back.

"I like taking care of you," you admit, heart skipping a beat under the weight of his gaze, the softness in his eyes dissolving your concentration on the task at hand. 

A deep, affectionate groan escapes Aaron as he pulls you even closer. But all good things come to an end, and the ringing of his phone seems like an icy intrusion, like a sudden draft into the kitchen.

"Hotchner," he answers, and even though the word leaves his lips, his fingers gently sketch patterns across your hip. 

You feel your heart sink. When he hangs up, his eyes lock with yours, brimming with an apology he doesn't voice. It's unnecessary, you already know.

"A case?" You hate how small your voice sounds, dipped in an understanding you wish you didn't have.

He nods, a simple stupid gesture that sends a lump of disappointment soaring up your throat, which you desperately try to swallow down. 

"Okay... just, be careful, okay? I'll miss you."

"And I'll miss you, angel. Be good for me."

There's a hollowness in the house that follows you through each room. You were well aware of Aaron's demanding job when you started dating--the unpredictable schedule, the sudden departures, the cases that required his immediate attention. Still, this awareness did nothing to soften to sting of his absence. At all. 

You found yourself wandering aimlessly, picking up a book only to set it down unread, starting a movie but not really watching. Eventually, you ended up in the bedroom, his bedroom, where the subtle scent of his cologne lingers. It's both comforting and heart-wrenching. God, you felt like you were being so dramatic.

You climb into the bed, the sheets cool against your skin, too big and empty without him. Your eyes darts to the phone resting on the nightstand. You've always been careful not to disturb him while he's working, but tonight felt different.

With a trembling hand, you pick up the phone, your thumb hovering indecisively over the screen. Reluctantly, you returned it to its place. There was no point in bothering him.

A sudden draft sent a shiver up your spine, reminding you of the blanket Hotch had bought for you a couple months ago. You sighed, rising from the bed and moving to the closet.

But your eyes skipped over the blanket, instead fixating on a shiny pink bag tucked away in a secluded corner. Compelled by a spike of curiosity, you grabbed the bag and pulled it open. Your eyes widened, cheeks burning with a sudden flush as you placed it on the bed. How long had this been hiding here? And the timing--just after your conversation with Penelope--felt almost too uncanny. 

You went back to your phone.

Hi

The message was simple. You hit send before you can second-guess yourself.

Almost immediately, your phone vibrated--Aaron's name illuminated the screen. You answer, and his voice was there, infused with immediate concern.

"Hi honey. You okay?" His question was straightforward, cutting through the noise.

You nodded, forgetting for a moment he couldn't see you. Shifting on the bed, you said softly, "Um, yeah, I'm fine. I didn't mean to bother you. Is it a bad time?"

His response is quick. "You could never bother me."

A blush flares on your cheeks, and a smile instinctively forms. You fidget on the bed, the sheets sighing with your movements, sounds that don't escape Aaron's attentive detection.

"Can't seem to find the right spot without me there, huh?"

"I can't seem to do a lot of things without you here," you grumble under your breath, intended more for yourself than for him. The bed emits a soft creak as you turn again, your breath hitching in a pout that he can almost see through the phone. "Aaron, I found something in the closet..."

You lost your words, fingertips tracing the toy's edge, as you fumbled with the strings of your shorts.

"Hmm? Care to enlighten me."

"You know."

You weren't in the mood for his teasing, because you knew he knew. You could sense his smugness, his voice dripping into that familiar, velvety register that prompted your lips to purse.

"I don't know, sweetheart."

Once again, you found yourself stirring against the linen, nibbling on your lip as a wave of exasperation washed over you, your eyes rolling into their sockets.

"Where are you?"

"Just got to my hotel room." You could hear the subtle movements in the background, accompanied by the soft groans of the mattress under his weight. "What did you find in the closet that was so urgent you needed to text me in the middle of my case?"

Your face was warm. "You said it wasn't a bother."

"And I meant it, now spell it out for me."

Your hands cautiously pushed over the toy, examining its buttons and sides. Subconsciously, your tongue swept over your top teeth. You lowered your voice as though someone else might overhear.

"The toy...is it for me? I mean, I would hope so. If not, well, we'd have a rather awkward issue."

"Yes, it's for you, baby."

You stifled a grin. How could he have known? That profiling business was really no joke.

"Why?"

His muffled chuckle filtered through, and you could almost see the flash of his pearly whites. You really missed him, so much so that you were conjuring vision of his mouth of his on places that should not be said aloud. 

"I just want to make sure my best girl is taken care of when I'm not home." You could practically hear the smirk on his lips.

You were deep in your fantasy now, your free hand sliding down your shorts as you envisioned him propped against the headboard of his hotel bed, tie hanging loosely, hair tousled just so.

"I'm always taken care of by you, Aaron," you said quietly.

You didn't know how to go about this, whatever this even was. You were treading into unknown territory; never having had phone sex with Aaron--or anyone for that matter.  It was a far cry from the occasional suggestive text.

"That's right." His voice flowed like honey in your ear, causing a shiver as your finger skimmed over your underwear, your breathing momentarily faltering. "You're going to be well taken care of for the rest of your life, yeah?"

"Yeah."

You could hardly breathe, squirming against your own touch, glancing over at the toy that sat beside your hip.

"I want you to know how much I appreciate your patience. You're a good girl, honey. Far too good for me." You weren't. It was the other way around; you didn't deserve him. You told yourself that every day. "I know you get lonely, and I know it's something you'd never admit to."

"Aaron..."

He didn't let you finish. "Why don't you tell me what you're doing right now?"

Your actions came to an abrupt standstill, thumb suspended above your clothed clit. You entertained the thought that this FBI gig might have been a front for a psychic, maybe one of those fortune teller types.

You were mumbling into your sleeve, a private conversation with the threads. "Just...um, well it's hardly worth mentioning, honestly."

Wow you're sure you fooled him.

"I'm not fond of dishonesty." The low rumble of his voice sent a tremor through your core. "I'm giving you a final chance. Tell me what you're doing, sweetheart."

A hard swallow passed your throat, your thumb rubbing idle circles into the band of flesh on your hip. 

"Well, I, uh, was touching myself." The words felt as awkward as they sounded, an internal wince accompanying each syllable at how unsexy you were speaking.

"Where, sweetheart?"

You exhaled sharply at the question, heavy with exasperation at his insistence on drawing this out. But the slickness between your legs was undeniable. Your hand slid back to the delicate skin between your thighs.

"Aaron, please," you breathed out so faintly it was almost inaudible.

He was playing a cruel game, and he knew it. You hardly cussed let alone talk about your lady parts so openly.

"I hope I've never given you a reason to feel judged, honey." There was a sweetness in his voice that masked his darker intentions. "Just tell me where. I want to help."

Your tongue flicked nervously across your lip, your finger dipping into the valley of your folds as you mulled over his offer. You were wet, far more than you had anticipated, practically coating your thighs in the process.

"No, 'course not," you said softly, biting back a sigh as your thumb worked slowly against your inflamed clit. "It's just, you're so far, Aaron."

"Why do you think I got you that toy?" Your gaze darted to the pink thing, resting against your hip. "I want you to use it. I'll walk you through it, just like I would in person."

You could melt. You could liquefy into nothingness on the spot. Your fingers pressed more urgently against yourself, a deep-seated wish for him to be here surfacing, knowing all the while it was a baseless hope.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

"There you go, that's my girl."

You couldn't hold back the whimper that fell from your lips as you arched against the bed, fingers diving into your cunt.

"My needy girl," he repeated, his laughter resonating with a patronizing tone that oddly egged you on. "Alright, can you pick up the toy for me?"

You wedged the phone snugly between your shoulder and ear, your hand closing around the pink, curved object, scrutinizing its every detail with careful eyes.

"Okay."

It was big, not as big as Aaron, but its dimensions were nonetheless imposing. You felt your chest heave in anticipation, waiting for his instructions.

His silence was stretching your patience thin. You turned it on, and it came to life, watching as it vibrated, the soft buzz permeating the space. You let it trail over your stomach, fabric gathering as your shirt rode up. Nearing your clit, you braced, taking in a quick breath.

But that breath was released in a strangled moan as you pushed the toy firmly into your sopping hole, legs spreading expansively as a taut sensation gripped your center.

"Did I say you could use it already?" he questioned, his tongue clicking in disapproval as you strained against the device, the second prong vibrations coursing against your nub, your whole-body jerking in response.

"N-No, 'M sorry," you panted, your focus narrowing as you pushed to toy in and out, your lips rounding into an 'o'. "It feels really good, Aar."

"I'm sure it does, baby," he teased, his voice carrying a certainty that your own lacked. "Let me hear you fuck yourself with it.

You loved hearing him curse, it was rare, and usually reserved for intimate moments like this. It fueled your actions, your wrist quickening, driving the device deeper, your stomach twisting in tight knots, a loud moan escaping unrestrained, suddenly you were thankful for the distance between Aaron's house and the next.

It felt so good, and yet somehow still not comparable to how it was with Aaron. Weren't you spoiled?

"Miss you so much," you slurred, your movements stuttering as the device worked your body in ways you didn't know were possible.

"Miss you too, angel. You're doing so good."

"Can you, ah, come home, p-please?"

You weren't even sure of what you were saying, all your thoughts on chasing your high and pretending the toy was Aaron's cock. Thinking about how he'd fill you up right now, how he'd press you to the mattress, how his body would cover yours.

"Your present isn't enough?" His tone was taunting, your eyes welling with tears, clouding your vision as your hips bucked against the toy. "That's a shame, sweetheart, think maybe you've been a little spoiled. You can't have my cock all the time."

You were completely dazed, his sentences barely making their way through the fog as you'd like them to. You were crying, you think, hot and relentless tears carving a path down your face as you fucked yourself harder against the toy.

The noises coming from your pussy were obscene, soaked and squishing as you tried to respond to Aaron, but nothing but small hiccups were escaping your mouth.

"It's okay, baby, I know. You're doing so good for me. I can hear it."

Your cheeks and ears flared with a heat that spelled out your shame, but it was the least of your concerns. Your walls tightened against the device, the pressure on your clit suddenly all too much and not enough at the same time. Gasping for air, your breaths came out in uneven bursts. When you tried to call out Aaron's name, it emerged as nothing more than a choked sob.

"C-Can I? Please, need to so bad." You weren't entirely convinced you were speaking English, but Aaron understood. 

"Go ahead, sweetheart."

That was all you needed. Your cunt contracted again before vaulting over the edge, nearly losing consciousness in the process, a string of moans and half-said words pouring out of your lips.

You could hear the sound of his voice, but the words were just out of reach, not fully making sense. You felt your body twitch, and you blinked deliberately, once, twice, three times, in an effort to reconnect your body to your mind.

"You're so good, baby. So good. Miss you so much."

You pulled the toy, now soaked, from yourself, cringing at the lewd sound as you laid it beside you, making a mental note to wash the sheets later. Although if Aaron had his way that wouldn't happen.

"I miss you." You hated the way your voice betrayed ever emotion you had.

"Need you to go pee for me, sweetheart."

He sounded so soft and tired, but somehow still present. You let out a soft snicker as you curled onto your side. 

"Can't move my legs," you mumbled, the sound muffled by the way your cheek was squished into the pillow. "Need you to come carry me."

His laugh was something you wished you could bottle up. "Spoiled."

"And who's to blame for that?" You were ready for his witty retort, but it was cut short by the sudden flash of your phone. You squinted at the caller ID. "Sorry, Penelope is calling me, can I call you back in a second?"

"Course, honey. Thank her for the idea, yeah?" Your mouth fell open as you scrambled for the right words. Of course he had heard. "Also, I plan on spending a few solid hours fucking you when I get home, so I suggest you get some rest."

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

[ashkabbom]

Storm - Mouthwashing

A/n: It's 1am, but nothing will stop me muahahahah! Give my writing a chance and correct me if anything, English is not my first language and I had a LOT of help from the translator 🫶🏽

Versión en español en Wattpad: Libro de One Shots - Mouthwashing (Cuenta: ashkabbom)

Versão em português no wattpad: Livro de One Shots - Mouthwashing (Conta: ashkabbom)

•Pre-Crash!Captain Curly x Reader

synopsis/summary: You and Captain Curly talk a little during the night

Notes: I didn't specify the gender and I didn't talk about the relationship, it's up to you to see how you interpret it.

Drops of rain hit your window hard, thunder and lightning tormented you and took away your peace.

It was night and you were in the ship's kitchen, you couldn't sleep for some reason, but the silence and the moonlight projected on the huge screen were comforting.

Thinking of anything to occupy your mind, from how long a squirrel lives to worries about your current job, although you tried to push some of those worries out of your mind.

Somehow you got a job, only you didn't expect it to be here and like this, but it's good that you don't do much, it's good that no one got hurt and you need to take care of.

Due to sheer pressure, you ended up entering some area of medicine, although it wasn't exactly what your parents wanted, it's still something, but you would be anywhere else if you could choose for yourself.

You didn't want your parents to look at you like you had failed and disappointed them, it was horrible to feel like you were a failure, something they weren't proud of.

Do you sometimes wonder if a hospital would even accept you, would you want that? Maybe you would even do well? It's not what you want but-

"Awake at this hour?" A voice echoes lightly and a tired-looking captain is leaning against the door. You didn't even hear the door slam, you were so immersed in thought.

Captain Curly was one of the most easygoing guys you'll ever meet working at the Pony Express, and that's not to be rude, but there are very few people at that company who are easygoing with other people.

"Night snack break." You say with a shy smile, not expecting anyone to be awake at this hour either. "But someone emptied all the coffee."

He chuckles lightly before sighing, "I can't imagine who would be responsible behind such a crime." Curly rolls his eyes with a smirk on his face, then looks at you. "But something tells me that late night snack isn't what got you so focused that you didn't hear the door."

"Hmmm a captain really knows his crew apparently" You laugh a little and nod. "I was just thinking a little bit about... Everything, you know? There's a few more months to go, I think about 7 months or something and it's just as weird as it was in the beginning"

Curly listened carefully to what you said, as a captain he understood exactly what you meant.

Being in the middle of space for so long, with a group of people you're not used to, is quite something, especially for someone unfamiliar with being so far away from where they used to be.

Even he wasn't sure if this was what he wanted for himself, if this was the pinnacle of his life or if he should try something more and go beyond his comfort zone.

"So you feel like the things around you are devouring you little by little, you sink so deep into it that it's hard for you to get out. It's not bad, but you feel like it's not good." He tries to complete what was on your mind.

"You gave yourself away that you are or have been in the same boat captain" You look at him with a cheeky smile and start walking towards the couch. "or on different boats, but with the same destination"

Curly follows you right behind and also sits on the couch. You both stay in silence for a while, just looking at the moon.

"It's not the same as looking at the sky at night, but it's better than nothing I guess." You say without thinking much. It would be a lie if you said you don't miss being on earth, in your home and in the comfort of your room in your house.

"I think this when I look at the stars, it's even different when I remember that I'm in space with them, being able to see several everywhere.. Without light pollution" He says and another silence falls.

It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, quite the opposite, it was the most peaceful silence you'd had in nights. Just you, the captain and the stars, enjoying the company that each one could offer.

You look at the captain, wondering if there was anything he regretted doing in his life that brought him here.

It was no surprise that he knew what was bothering you in your thoughts, after all he is a grown man with experience in life, everyone goes through this questioning one day.

Uncertainty is what moves us sometimes.

You wonder if Jimmy is like that too, if there is anything he would do differently to be somewhere else or if he wouldn't change anything even though he might regret something...

He didn't seem much for talking about that sort of thing. Jimmy was always a mystery in his mind.

Him and Swansea. You knew very little about the two of them, but it's not like you knew much about the others anyway.

You knew that Jimmy and the captain were friends so he must not be as bitter as he seems, after all he wouldn't be where he is if he wasn't someone he could trust.

"So this is what they mean by staring into your soul" He laughs as he says this and you come out of your trance. You hadn't noticed that you weren't just looking at him out of the corner of your eye, but that you had turned your face to look at him.

You laugh at his comment. "Sorry, I didn't mean to intrude on the entrance to a man's soul." Sighing lightly you smile "Daisuke showed me a drawing of him yesterday, the boy is talented and expresses well how he sees places and people"

"Is that what you two were doing in the infirmary during lunch?" He asks curiously. "But I didn't realize you liked rock and metal, but the metalhead you drew looks nice."

"It's not a metalhead, it's Anya." You look at him like it's the most obvious thing and he's so dumb.

"Was that supposed to be Anya?!" Curly asked in disbelief.

You and he talked for a few more minutes, even though it was so late at night, maybe it would be morning in a few hours, but clearing your head at least a little was the best thing.

You yawned and realized that you were actually sleepy now. Curly yawns soon after and you both laugh lightly, agreeing that you would go to sleep now, wishing each other goodnight.

So the raindrops hit the window weaker, until they stopped completely, without thunder or lightning.

The next day you wake up dead tired, woken up by Daisuke questioning if you were still alive.

Soon you go to the kitchen together, talking a little about what you had dreamed about during the night. Anya was already there and so you and Daisuke join her, soon Jimmy and captain, arrives and-

"Whose metalhead drawing is this? It was lying on the floor" Swansea asks with the paper in his hand

"It's not a metalhead!" You hear Daisuke chuckle and you swear you heard a chuckle coming from Curly.

A/n: I had another creative peak this morning and here it is, straight from the oven. I wish I had written something with Curly before writing something with Daisuke.🫶🏽🎀

[totallynotcoffeeturtle]

Long(?) Distance Relationship

･˚‧･+‧₊‧.°.⋆.🫧 .•˚₊‧⋆:｡+.･ﾟ･˚‧･+‧₊‧.°.⋆.🫧 .•˚₊‧⋆:｡+.･ﾟ･˚‧･+‧₊‧.°.⋆.🫧 .•˚₊‧⋆:｡+.･ﾟ

Genshin masterlist || Scaramouche masterlist

Tags: fluff, gn!reader, pre-established relationship, mild crack ig Summary: is a long-distanced relationship even possible when your boyfriend can just travel on foot cross nations for you?

A/N: so uhhhh this kinda sucks but it's midnight here and i'm losing my marbles or however that saying goes. happy reading yall w/c: 1.3k

･˚‧･+‧₊‧.°.⋆.🫧 .•˚₊‧⋆:｡+.･ﾟ･˚‧･+‧₊‧.°.⋆.🫧 .•˚₊‧⋆:｡+.･ﾟ･˚‧･+‧₊‧.°.⋆.🫧 .•˚₊‧⋆:｡+.･ﾟ

You place your luggage down onto the wooden floor of the rental in Mondstadt city, sighing under your breath. The week-long boat trip from Sumeru to the docks and then another few days worth of slime balloon flight had not been easy on your body, especially since you mostly bury yourself in research upon research instead of strengthening your body.

A sense of peace wells up as you take in the bustling atmosphere of the people and the music carried by the wind through the window as you sit down onto the bed. It was the right choice to go to Mondstadt for your new project! You do miss Wanderer much more than you would ever admit after all the traveling though.

Quickly clearing up your mind, you put away your things and tidy up the room a little so that it is more livable than before. As you hang up the last of your clothes, a piece of paper falls down to the ground. You pick it up and freeze at the realization that it is the note you wanted to leave for Wanderer about leaving. A few moments pass and you give up on trying to think. Whatever will happen is for the future you to worry about!

Meanwhile, your poor boyfriend just returns to your shared abode after having to help the Dendro Archon out in the desert. Wanderer was expecting to see you excitedly rushing to greet him, or at least hear you in the living doing random things but is met with an empty home. His non-existent heart stops beating for a split second. Where did you go!? So the only reasonable action Wanderer can take is to rush out and grab the nearest familiar looking scholar for interrogation.

While questioning his victim, his brain is filled with the worst possibilities he knows, what if you finally realized that he is unsuitable for you, or you got kidnapped or- The poor scholar can barely answer him before getting thrown onto the ground and feeling a gust of wind rushing by, followed by a trail of dust. Wanderer breathes a sigh of relief knowing you are safe and sound. He thanks the Dendro Archon that you are simply on a work trip to Mondstadt of all places.

The anemo vision on his waist glows as he pushes the limit on speed before he inevitably is forced to go on foot once again. The puppet complains under his breath. He did not realize the way to Mondstadt is this long but at least this would be faster than to travel on any other transportation method. He also simply cannot believe that you would leave for your research now of all times. The puppet was away for two, t-w-o weeks(!) and you dare to leave without even informing him beforehand! Admittedly, he was released from his duties much earlier than expected but you could have left a note! (Even if technically you did, the results still matter more in this case)

Wanderer is immediately stopped at the gate of the city. The guards both looked at each other when they saw him rushing over at the speed of light and anger (?) practically radiating off him and swiftly concluded that he is, in fact, a danger. He stops when they block his entry because he is a law-abiding citizen! The scholar stands there in annoyance, one of his feet tapping the ground impatiently as his eyes flit over the two soldiers trying to do their jobs. Even if he would love to just go right over their heads, he can already hear Nahida nagging at him the moment he steps foot in the vicinity of Sumeru.

He zones out slowly at the mind-bogglingly boring questioning and profiling despite its necessity. The puppet wonders if you are doing fieldwork or writing out your plans at the moment. Wanderer is already planning how he would punish you for your lack of communication and- He snaps out of his thoughts at the guards handing back his identification papers with a polite apology for stopping him. He simply nods and walks in. Paperwork is always so tedious!

Meanwhile, you walk around the library of the Knights of Favonius, in awe at the sheer collection of books available and the crisp cleanliness somehow maintained despite everything. The librarian is an oddball but that is just how scholars are sometimes. Not the oddest one you have had the pleasure of meeting, at least. You run your fingers over the leather book spines as you hum along with the music selection from the gramophone. One book, and then another, and another one… They begin to stack up higher than you had expected. You stare at the pile in mild contemplation. How are you supposed to bring all of this back?

Lisa, ever the sweetheart, taps your shoulder and promises to help you reserve the books until your next visit. With that out of the way, you carry a comfortable amount in your (not) noodle arms back to your humble abode.

Wanderer walks into the bustling city while looking for your silhouette in the crowds. The guards said that there has been no scholar leaving the city for the last few days so you should still be around the place. He regrets not having planned this out better so he would not have to be walking around like a headless fly right now. He stops for a moment at the water fountain and allows himself to take a breather. You would tease the living hell out of him if you ever find out that he was in such a rush to see you again. Despite the way Wanderer acts, the corners of his mouth rise subconsciously at the thought of your surprised expression when meeting him. Maybe you would even be so happy that you hug him tightly and shower him with affection…

Instead he gets attacked right in the face with a thick encyclopedia on Mondstadt’s oral legends and a frantic scream that threatens to blow out his eardrums. Truly makes him wonder if he stepped out of the house with the wrong foot or something like that… Wanderer still catches the books flying at him, despite the urge to watch the world burn, and looks at the perpetrator in anger until he realizes it is you who did that. You know what, he can forgive you as long as you promise not to leave him without notice again.

You tumble, full Inazuman rom com novel style, sending you and your books flying at the fountain. A blood curdling scream makes its way out of your throat, effectively stunning everyone in the plaza. Honestly, for a moment, you wish that a hole would open up on the ground beneath you and swallow you up. You push yourself up from the ground, your knees still aching from the impact. You slowly look up at your victim and you rub your eyes vigorously at the sight that greets you. Isn’t Wanderer supposed to be in Sumeru right now? Are you somehow hallucinating in the middle of the day??

Regardless if this is an illusion whatever twisted god up in Celestia may be subjecting you to, you stand up and rush into your beloved boyfriend’s arms for a hug, deftly avoiding the books and the possibility of falling right into the water. As awkwardly as he is, Wanderer returns your affection. He pats your back lightly while maintaining a delicate balance with the books in his hand and you. Feeling your warmth against him is more than enough to make the trip here worth it.

The touching moment is cut short when you push him away. The puppet pouts a little but allows you to do so either way. “So uhh, how did you get here? Are you free from your deadlines yet?” He freezes up. Oh no.

･˚‧･+‧₊‧.°.⋆.🫧 .•˚₊‧⋆:｡+.･ﾟ･˚‧･+‧₊‧.°.⋆.🫧 .•˚₊‧⋆:｡+.･ﾟ･˚‧･+‧₊‧.°.⋆.🫧 .•˚₊‧⋆:｡+.･ﾟ

Taglist: @amyminhminh @xrmywaifxx @samyayaya

[darcytaylor]

I have a bit of a unique perspective on Luke if anyone's interested. I think he's one of those people who adapt to any environment they're in, which is great if you're an actor, but in your personal life you can just drift, going along with whatever the stronger personalities in your life are doing.

If anyone has observed male friendships closely, they might notice that they're very different from female ones - they're more surface level and more focused on not disrupting the status quo in the group. Where women will cheer each other on when one succeeds, men will unspokenly hold each other back (I'm not saying there isn't jealousy or toxicity in female friendships, it's just that it rises to the surface and either gets addressed or explodes the friendship).

I witnessed this dynamic in particular at uni, where guys who were suddenly doing very well in their studies because they'd found their niche felt the need to conform to wherever their buddies were at, especially if it was an established, long-time friend group from childhood or school. They'd go home over the holidays and come back a different person, like it was shameful to do well at something, especially if the guy in question wasn't the "alpha" of the group. Many guys who had potential to do well in our more academic field but moved back home post-uni ended up taking jobs that were beneath their ability because that was what their friends were doing or what was considered "cool" where they were from (think bartending, club promoting, etc.). I think this is precisely what Luke is trying to navigate with respect to his own friend group and why we're all so confused by his behavior.

Now, he has referred multiple times to how important friends are to him, how some have been there for him during hard times and how he's generous with them. He has always been a good looking guy, while maybe not everyone's cup of tea, and his styling on the show in S1&2 wasn't doing him any favors if we're being honest, and it's undeniable that he underwent a major transformation for S3. All of a sudden, he got this veritable onslaught of female attention and thirst that I'm assuming he hadn't experienced the likes of before. And this coupled with the season's success changed his status within the group and in the world at large. This is where the tension starts. He's trying to adapt to his new reality while everyone around him is expecting him to stay the same, not act like he's "better than them" now, even though he might be. In this situation, he has two options - to hold himself back and default to the proverbial average of the 5 people closest to him, or do a balancing act of "a rising tide lifts all boats" type of deal by sharing the fruits of his success with the group. I think that being the loving guy he is, he's caught in this liminal space of trying to find his personal footing while doing "right" by everyone around him. These are choppy waters for anyone to navigate, especially as his friends are themselves experiencing ups and downs and the collective context is ever-changing.

Do I think him dating someone like A is a choice that he thinks someone in his newfound position would make? Yes. Do I think she's probably a very nice girl and they're having a good time together? Sure. Do I think she's on his level? No. Do I think she'll be old news if he (or she) gets slammed with work? Most likely. It's ultimately their respective availability that's holding that relationship together. Well, that and the light ego stroke of dating a woman who looks a certain way - it's how he's projecting his new "league" out into the world. But also, if they were indeed introduced by a friend, he might perceive her as "approved" by those around him and thus not disruptive of the delicate pH balance of the group. I don't know anything about his friends and who they are or aren't dating, but rest assured that if the most dominant among them were to hit a life milestone like getting engaged or married, the rest of them would follow suit in quick succession so as not to disrupt group cohesion or their collective lifestyle, regardless of whether the person they happen to be with at the time is "the one". I've seen this play out so many times that it's a bit of a cliche.

Conversely, if one of them starts dating someone, let's say, of "higher status", we'd probably see that reflected across the friend group as well. All this is to say, I don't think A is end game and he knows it too, he's been straining to acknowledge her so as not to lose her but at the same time, I think deep down he knows she's just Ms. Right Now so he's not leaning into this as hard as he was with J. I think he's still subconsciously shopping around for the future Mrs. Newton but he's a relationship kind of guy and he's trying to ride this one out for as long as it'll hold. I think that if a semi-famous woman at a similar level of recognition as him showed an interest in him, A would become old news fast, especially if he manages to mentally integrate the changes that have happened in this life over time. I think she's a buffer for his anxiety to a large extent, which is why he takes her with him everywhere. Once he settles into more of a groove, we might start seeing a more recognizable version of him.

Just my two cents.

This is very well thought out and while this is all speculation, all of it is plausible! Who am I to say what is fact or fiction?

[prettybillycore]

shot through the heart || ch.1 || billy hargrove x shelby!reader

Pairing(s): Shelby!Reader x Billy Hargrove, Minor Thomas Shelby x Grace Burgess

Universe: Peaky Blinders + Stranger Things

Summary: You, one of the younger members of the Shelby clan, are just trying to find your place in the world when suddenly you are shot. Instead of dying, you are flashed-forward in time to 1984 where you meet people who will change your life forever. Will you ever be able to return home? What caused you to time-travel in the first place?

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 3.0k

Warnings: canon typical violence, swearing

A/N: I know this one is in second place on the poll I’m doing, but I was just so excited about it I started with it. The one in first place is probably going to be a one or two shot where as this is definitely going to be a series so the first place winner should be out soon!

Read here below the cut or on AO3~!

Being a Shelby came with a lot of expectations. There was no way around that. Especially as a woman you felt the pressure of your last name pressing on your shoulders. Being one of the youngest in the Shelby clan didn’t help your situation. You were freshly sixteen and your brothers never let you forget it. It was only recently that you were allowed to start sitting in on family meetings; Tommy made sure of it once he felt like you were ready. Aunt Pol was against it. The tension between the two of them over it could be cut with a knife. Of course, that didn’t really matter at the current moment. “I called this meeting because I got

some news. From Ireland,” Arthur said as he drank from a flask, “Scud-Boat and Lovelock got back from Belfast last night. They were buying a stallion to cover their mares.” Arthur gestured at the two of them and they confirm this, he continues. “They were in a pub in the Shankhill

Road yesterday and there was a copper handing out these.”

You were handed a flyer, but before you could even begin reading it, John ripped it out of your hands, “If you’re over five feet and can fight, come to Birmingham.”

“They’re recruiting Protestant Irishmen to come over here as Specials,” Arthur said.

“To do what?” Your older sister asked. Though it seemed quite obvious to you. 

“To clean up the city, Ada,” Tommy replied. Exactly as you thought. “He’s a Chief Inspector. The last four years he’s been clearing the IRA out of Belfast…”

“How do you know so bloody much?” Arthur asked. This also seemed quite obvious to you. 

“‘Cause I asked the coppers on our payroll,” Tommy explained. Again, exactly as you thought. You might have been one of the youngest people in the room, but you weren’t dull. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Arthur questioned.

Tommy paused for a moment and pursed his lips. “I’m telling you.”

“So why are they sending him to Birmingham?” Aunt Pol asked. A silence fell over the room. Arthur takes a large swig of his drink. He clearly has no idea how to answer her question. Tommy steps up as the head of the meeting.

“There have been a lot of strikes at the Austen works and the BSA factory lately. Papers are talking about sedition. Revolution. I reckon it’s Communists he’s after,” Tommy and Aunt Pol look at each other intensely. You knew they were the real powerhouses of the family, despite Arthur being the oldest of you Shelby siblings. 

“So this copper will leave us alone, right?” Aunt Pol asked. 

“There are Irishmen in Green Lanes who left Belfast to get away from him. They say Catholic men who crossed him used to disappear in the night,” Tommy answered.

 You eyed John carefully. He was clearly very bothered by the idea of this copper coming to town. You weren’t exactly at ease with the idea either. “Yeah but we ain’t IRA. We bloody fought for the King. Anyway, we’re Peaky Blinders. We’re not scared of coppers. If they come for us, we’ll cut them a smile each.” 

“You’re right,” Arthur agreed. 

You notice the snickers of some of the younger men in the room, but what catches your eye the most is Tommy’s hand carefully balling up the flyer until it’s tightly spiraled in his palm. “So, Arthur, is that it?”

Arthur’s gaze moved around the room, “What do you think, Aunt Pol?”

She sighed, the cigarette in her hand was still smoldering. “This family does everything open. You have nothing more to say to this meeting, Thomas?”

“No…” His eyes flickered between you, Ada, and Aunt Pol, “Nothing that’s women’s business.”

You rolled your eyes at that comment. “This whole bloody enterprise was ‘women’s business’ while you boys were away at war. What’s changed?” Aunt Pol snapped.

“We came back,” Tommy answered honestly. With that, the meeting started to disperse and you let out a large breath you didn’t realize you were holding in. You looked toward the door and saw Finn peaking in from the other room, much like you used to do when you were younger. He backed away as soon as you made eye contact, but you still found it cute. That is, until you were drawn  back to reality. 

“I still don’t like you sitting in on these meetings, Y/n. It really would be best if you were to stay with Finn,” Aunt Pol scolded. You sunk down in your seat and rolled your eyes again. 

“Why must you insist on treating me like a child?” You asked. 

“Because you are one,” she answered.

“Leave her alone Polly. She helped out with the business while we were all gone in the war, it’s only right she gets a seat at the table now,” Tommy said, inserting himself into the conversation. 

“Thank you, Tommy,” you replied before turning your attention back to Aunt Pol. “I know I am young, but I am not a little kid like Finn. I am almost 18 now. You have to recognize that I am growing up, Aunt Polly. I deserve my seat at this table just as much as anyone else in this family.”

John and Arthur were snickering at you in the background. Aunt Pol hushed them with one dirty look. Her face did not soften when she looked back at you. “I know you want to help, but you have so many years ahead of you. You don’t have to be involved in the family business right now so why should you be? Why not wait as long as possible? You only picked up a gun for the first time last year and thank god you haven’t had to shoot anyone with it. You’re already in danger by being a Shelby, it only gets worse the more entangled you become with the business side of things.”

“I see your point Aunt Pol, but I’m not giving up my spot at this damn table after I just got it. You don’t give Ada a hard time and she’s sitting here.”

Ada shook her head. “Don’t bring me into this.”

“I will bring you into this if I damn well please,” you fired back. John was back to laughing, but you really weren’t sure what he was finding so funny about all of this. He was quieted down by a glare from Tommy. 

“You are a lot younger than Ada. I don’t think that’s a fair comparison,” Aunt Pol continued. “I have your best interest at heart, Y/n. I am only doing my best to look out for you in the long run.”

“I think leave it for now, Aunt Pol. This bickering is getting us nowhere,” Tommy interjected. Your voices hushed. Aunt Pol’s face had a look of annoyance written all over it. You were more frustrated than anything else. Everyone began to leave the room, the air a little heavier than before. 

| < ♥️ > |

You were laying on your stomach across Ada’s bed, your legs kicking the air without a care in the world. Your journal was open in front of you and a pen rested in one of your hands. Ada sat at a small vanity on the other side of the room. She was carefully applying a bit of makeup. It was much later now and the sun was getting ready to set. You were forbidden from going out at night except to change houses, while Ada could do whatever she pleased. You guessed she was going to do something Tommy wouldn’t approve of, you could feel it in your bones. “Who are you getting all dolled up to see?” You asked. You knew you might have to push a little bit to actually get her to tell you anything, but you still thought it was worth a try to ask.

Ada finished applying lipstick before she even thought about answering you. “It’s none of your business who I’m going to see.” She popped her lips together to spread around the product. “Just go back to writing in your journal. I’m sure you’ve got your eyes set on some boy you’ve met out and about.”

You made a ‘tsk’ sound with your teeth. “Yeah right, like that’s at all what I’m writing about in my journal. The only one in this room with her eyes on boys, is you, Ada!” You giggled and slammed your journal shut. You walked over to her and placed your hands on her shoulders. You looked at her in the mirror, “Come on, who are you going to see?”

Ada rolled her eyes at you. “You can’t tell anyone, yeah?”

“I swear on my life, this stays between you and me!” You stuck out your pinkie and she looked up at you. 

“Really? A pinkie promise?” Ada asked. 

“Yes. I pinkie promise I won’t tell a single soul who you’re going to see.” Ada’s face contorted into a soft smile as she grabbed your pinkie with hers. 

“Fine, fine. I’m going to see Freddie Thorne. We’ve been seeing each other for a little while now, but we’ve been keeping it a secret because you know how Tommy is. Not another soul can know. You hear me?”

“You can’t break a pinkie promise, Ada. It’s an unbreakable vow,” you replied before taking your hand back. “I never expected him to be your type, but good on you! I am glad you’ve found someone that makes you happy. I hope I find someone who makes me happy one day.”

You nearly mumbled the last part. You flopped back onto Ada’s bed, your back touching the mattress. “You will. You’re young yet, Y/n.”

“Why is there always talk of me being so young? Why can’t there be talk of how grown up I’ve gotten since the war?” You huffed, puffing every last bit of air out of your chest. 

Ada stood up from her chair and laughed lightly. “You’ve grown a lot, but you’ve still got a lot of growing to do. Come on, I’ll walk you home on my way to meet Freddie.”

“You don’t think Tommy will find it suspicious that you’re all dressed up to drop me at home?” You asked curiously as you sat up and began to gather your things. 

“Please, it’s too early for Tommy to be home. You’ll be lucky if he’s in before you fall asleep tonight,” She replied ruffling your hair. You knew she was right, Tommy was probably out at the pub. You were now old enough to set foot in bars, but your brothers all agreed that you should stay far away from all the bars in town except for the Garrison. Even with the exception, you were still only allowed to go there during the day time. This left you alone at night at home quite frequently since you lived with just Tommy. You’ve been living with him ever since he returned from war. You wouldn’t have it any other way, even if night time was sometimes scary and lonely. “Let’s go, I haven’t got all night,” Ada rushed you. 

You quickly gathered the rest of your things and threw them into your bag. “Ready!”

“Okay, let’s get you home.”

| < ♥️ > |

You woke up the next day expecting a quiet, normal morning. What you weren’t expecting was Arthur coming to your door, covered in blood. You frantically gathered the family. You met in your usual meeting room as Tommy went to go get a bottle of rum. Ada and Aunt Pol were about to start tending to Arthur’s wounds, but you couldn’t bare to watch. You were picking at the skin around your fingernails and biting the softest part of your lip hard enough that it started to bleed. Aunt Pol was wrapping Arthur’s finger while you leaned against a wall. “John, wipe the blood out of his eye.”

“Since when did you give orders?” John asked.

“I’m a trained nurse,” Ada replied.

“Don’t make me laugh, it hurts my face,” Arthur interjected. He was, in fact, laughing.

“I bloody am,” Ada continued.

“You went to one first aid class in the church hall and got thrown out for giggling,” John teased. 

“Not before learning how to stop somebody from choking,” Ada answered.

“I’m not bloody choking, am I?” Arthur shot back. 

“You will be when I wrap this cloth round your neck,” Ada said. The mood takes a downward shift as Tommy entered the room with a whole bottle of rum. 

“Let me see him,” he said walking up to Arthur. “Hmm. Well, have this.” He gave Arthur the bottle he was holding. Arthur takes a long drink before Tommy says, “Give me that,” and sets the bottle on the table in front of him. He take a hot, wet cloth and begins to clean Arthur’s skin. You dig your nails into your palms at the sound of Arthur’s painful moans. “You’re alright.”

“He said Mr Churchill sent him to Birmingham,” Arthur started. “National interest, he said. He said there’d been a robbery. He said he wants us to help him.”

“We don’t help coppers,” John stated flatly.

“He knew all about our war records. He said we’re patriots like him. He said he wants us to be his eyes and ears. I told him we’d have a family meeting and a vote. Why not? We have no truck with communists. Or Fenians.” Arthur stared at Tommy. Tommy said nothing, but is clearly off put by the idea of helping the new copper that has come to town. You could tell something else about this situation was bothering him too, you just couldn’t put your finger on exactly what it was. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Polly, what is wrong with him lately?”

“If I knew, I’d buy the cure from Compton’s Chemists,” Aunt Pol joked. Tommy grabbed his coat and left the meeting before anyone could take a vote. 

| < ♥️ > |

After everything in the morning with Arthur, you decided that you needed a drink. You were not one for drinking usually, that one was usually all your brothers, but something about this whole situation just screamed I need a glass of whsikey. So you found yourself in the Garrison in the late afternoon. The sun hadn’t gone down yet, so you were in the clear with Tommy’s rule about you only being there during the day. You walked in and all the eyes that turned toward the door quickly turned away, all except the eyes of a new barmaid that you did not recognize. You heard Harry, the owner of the bar, tell the new barmaid that whatever you wanted was on the house. You smiled politely at her as you pulled up a seat at the bar. You ordered a whiskey sour from her and as she handed you your drink you asked for her name. “Grace. My name is Grace.”

You smiled back at her and took a sip of your drink. “Y/n, Y/n Shelby. Lovely to meet you.”

| < ♥️ > |

Somewhere between the several whiskey sours you had and your new relationship with Grace you found yourself standing on one of the bar tables with her, singing. It was something that you use to do in school, before the war, but hadn’t done in such a long time. You were grinning such a wide grin that your cheeks were beginning to hurt. 

“I am just a young girl.

I have just come over,

Over from the country where they do things big,

And amongst the boys I have got myself a lover,

And since I have a lover,

I don’t care a fig.

The boy I love is up in the gallery 

The boy I love is looking–”

You stopped singing when you noticed Tommy come in the door with your brothers. You suddenly felt very exposed standing high up on a table. 

“At me

Can’t you see him standing there?

Waving his handkerchief

As merry as a robin that sings on the tree.” Grace finished the song by herself. You felt bad, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say anymore words. The grin was gone from your rosey cheeks. It was replaced by a sorry frown aimed toward your shoes. 

Harry walked over to Tommy, “We haven’t had singing in here since the war.”

“Why do you think that is, Harry?” Tommy spoke plainly. “Y/n, it’s dark outside. Time to go home for the night.” You nodded. Tommy walked over and gave you a hand off the table. Your feet being on the ground again felt like you were standing a boat. The alcohol in your system was way more than you were use to. “Jesus how much did you drink?” Tommy mumbled. You tossed some “sorrys” in his direction, but he wasn’t listening. He just headed out the door to take you home. 

| < ♥️ > |

Monday came before you even realized it had. You spent the rest of your weekend recovering from the time you had at the bar. You were feeling bright and well Monday afternoon and were hanging around where your family normally does business when Arthur came yelling for Tommy. “It bloody won!” Tommy is unphased by Arthur’s sudden appearance in front of him. You were sitting across from Tommy, just present to take in the whole interaction. “Monaghan Boy bloody won!”

“And word will spread. So next time we do the powder trick it won’t just be the Garrison that’ll bet on the horse, it’ll be the whole of Small Heath. And you know what? The horse will win again. And the third time we do it we’ll have the whole of Birmingham betting on it. A thousand quid bet on the magic horse. And that time, when we are ready, the horse will lose.” Tommy snapped the book in front of him shut. “Think about it.” You and Arthur looked at each other as Tommy left the room. “Bloody hell.”

-TO BE CONTINUED-

_____________________________________

TAGS: @tatumrileyslover @rubybinxx @haleypearce

[lilandraws]

Project Yakshorn Island: Week 03 - First Arrival

Takes one to know one

Word count: 4920 Characters featured: Hilda (mine), Annika (@kirkwords), Hiccup, Silent Sven, and Gustav Summary: A month after the establishment of Yakshorn Island, Hilda arrives. Read on AO3 or read after the cut

Heavy footsteps approaching stirred Hilda from her nap. A big warm hand shook her awake. She squinted at the sunlight and frowned at the man who woke her. ‘We’re almost there,’ Uncle Sven signed and she groaned, turning her back towards him. He shook her again with a force so strong she could feel her bones shake. She finally looked at him. ‘We’re almost there,’ he signed again. ‘Your new home! Are you ready?’

‘Yes,’ she signed repeatedly as she sat up and rubbed her eyes. She stretched her arms and folded up her sleeping bag then followed him to look over the bow. The cold ocean air kissed her cheeks, blowing through her short brown hair. She giggled, running to catch up to Uncle Sven. She looked up to see Gustav flying with Fanghook just above the ship while Hiccup and Toothless were nowhere to be found, likely gliding above the bright white clouds. On the horizon, where the sky met the sea, was Yakshorn Island. It looked a lot smaller than the Berk Isles, especially with the lack of structures. She didn’t really know what to expect from it, considering that it was previously uninhabited, but if someone could set up base there and Hiccup had let her move there, then that meant it was safe. It looked like it had greenery, too, which meant food for the flock they brought. 

She looked back at the small flock her uncle insisted she take. They huddled closely together at the back of the small ship, chewing on hay. Their eyes glazed over, not particularly impressed or fond of being on a ship. She only hoped that they wouldn’t blame her for the move they’re going through as it wasn’t her idea in the first place. It was a long back-and-forth about them between her and Uncle Sven. Hiccup was told that there was a wild flock on Yakshorn so there was no need to bring a flock but Sven insisted that she bring one anyway, so that she had a flock just in case she failed to herd the wild flock. Aunt Revna had to step in, before Hilda could even scream, for them to come to a compromise: bringing a dozen sheep. (Uncle Sven had wanted her to take half of their flock which was much much more than a dozen.) She knew he was just looking out for her but the implication of failure still hurt. She looked at the man standing next to her, his eyes looking at the distance. Gray hair was starting to grow on his silly mustache. His freckles were darker under the sun. She always felt a strange ache when she looked at him. He looked a lot like her father, if her father had a mustache instead of a beard. He raised an eyebrow and smiled when he caught her looking at him. He looked like he was about to say something when something caught his attention behind her. A gust of wind almost blew her towards him. She looked over her shoulder and saw that Hiccup and Toothless had dropped in and flew next to the boat. Hiccup was yelling something, pointing to the island, then took off. She turned to Uncle Sven. 

‘What did Hiccup say?’ She asked.

‘He’ll fly ahead,’ he answered. ‘He’ll meet us there.’

—

Hiccup was talking with Annika, the young woman living on the island, on the beach when they arrived. She was blonde and tall like Astrid. Hiccup introduced them as Annika stepped forward to shake their hands. Up close, Hilda noticed dark circles around Annika’s green eyes and her convivial smile did not exactly reach her eyes. She spoke slowly, making it easier to read her lips, “My name…Anni..ka.” She then waved an arm towards the expanse of the island, welcoming them, then pointed out a small hut in the distance. She was now turned away as they walked, mostly facing Hiccup, so Hilda took in the view. 

The island didn’t feel so small now that they were here. The air was cold yet inviting. There were grassy fields, hills, and forests beyond the rocky beach. Toothless, Fanghook, and her flock of Terrible Terrors chased each other in the fields. She could imagine a small village around the land where Annika built her hut. A sliver of hope fluttered in her chest. Maybe, if a village were to be built, she’d be a respected part of it because she was here first, like Gothi was in Berk. Maybe they could see her as an equal. Though, she didn’t offer any wisdom nor did she really want to be a Village Elder (and it took a really long time to be an elder). Maybe that was a silly thought. 

She almost dropped the pack she was carrying on her back when Gustav bumped against her. She scowled and pushed him away, but he simply stuck out his tongue. 

‘Beautiful,’ he signed, gesturing around them. ‘Maybe I should move here, too,’ he added and laughed when she rolled her eyes. ‘What? You can’t see me living here?’

‘No,’ Hilda shook her head. ‘Would be nice if you moved but you have a family.’

Gustav furrowed his brows, glancing at Uncle Sven who was walking ahead. ‘Same as you,’ he signed.

‘It’s different,’ she shrugged. 

Gustav scratched his helmet, a thought turning in his head, and she hoped that he would drop the subject but instead, he signed, ‘Not different.’

She sighed, shrugging again, ‘Fine, not different. But the village is different, you know that,’ to which Gustav nodded.

They finally reached the space where Annika had built her hut and it looked like she had been gathering wood and building frames, in preparation for Hilda’s arrival. Hiccup was already inspecting the frames built while Annika was nudging her craftsmanship with her foot. 

Uncle Sven came up to Hilda and Gustav after dropping the bags he was carrying. He pointed to a field beyond the hills in the far east where a small hut, like Annika’s, was under construction. ‘Annika built a house over there,’ he signed. It was a good hike away from Annika’s hut—a distance she personally didn’t like considering the new environment, but it seemed to be the most sensible place for the sheep. Uncle Sven continued, ‘She thought you’d like it. Big space for sheep. Is it okay?’

‘Okay,’ Hilda nodded. 

Hiccup must have yelled something which made Gustav quirk up and run towards him, already removing his pack from his back.

‘We’ll eat first, then build the house,’ Uncle Sven signed, grabbing her pack from her. 

—

It looked like the only conversation she was missing was Gustav getting scolded one too many times, judging from Gustav’s sulking and Hiccup pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. Annika didn’t seem to say or pay much attention to the young men as they built nor did she try to make conversation with Uncle Sven. Maybe she thought Uncle Sven was deaf, too. It wouldn’t be the first time someone thought her family was deaf—they had an affinity for not speaking, after all. Hilda always thought that maybe the gods found it funny and made it come true for one of them. Though, of all the families the gods could play a trick on, she was thankful it was hers. She couldn’t imagine being deaf in a family full of people who relied  solely on spoken speech for communication. 

When she was done with her side of the wall, Uncle Sven caught her attention as he was hauling chopped wood. He signed with his free hand, ‘Help me build a fence?’

She nodded, walking in the direction he was heading. He had already placed four markers around the back and side of the small hut so she counted the paces it took to get from the hut to the furthest marker, making an estimate as to how much wood they would need. She stopped by the furthest marker which stood several paces away from a stream she hadn't noticed before. It was a small one, as clear as day with gentle movement. Uncle Sven handed her the rope and a knife before he knelt and started hammering a stake down. She wrung the rope as she waited for him to hammer a few stakes in place. Once he did, she started placing the horizontal parts of the fence, tying one end at a time, falling into a steady rhythm. 

The sun was getting ready to sink when Gustav stood next to her and held the other side of the wood she was tying up. She nodded as thanks while she tied the other side. 

She slung the rope over her shoulder, ‘You’re not helping Hiccup anymore?’

‘I can’t help build a roof,’ he answered. ‘Don’t know how.’

‘Or did you annoy him again?’ She raised an eyebrow and he groaned, shaking his head as he picked up another piece of wood to hold against the fence. 

‘Not my fault!’ he signed with one hand. 

‘Sure,’ she laughed.

—

By the end of the day, most of the hut was finished with only half a roof and furniture missing. They managed to herd the flock into the sheep pen, too. She sunk to the ground and leaned her back against their make-shift dinner chair-log around the fire. Gustav was animatedly telling a story as their food was grilling and both Hiccup and Uncle Sven had an amused look on their faces while Annika looked… sad? With downcast eyes and creased brows, tending the fire. She would glance at Gustav and smile when Hiccup checked in with her but her mind was elsewhere. Hilda quickly averted her eyes when Annika’s eyes met hers, heat rising up to her ears and heart pounding against her chest. 

Uncle Sven tapped the wood by her shoulder before handing her a stick of grilled meat. ‘You okay?’

‘Yes, good. Thank you,’ she smiled, accepting the food. 

Hilda glanced at Annika before eating her meal. She never really questioned why anyone would set up base alone on an uninhabited island and as far as she knew, Annika never really questioned why Hilda wanted to move to said island either. But Hilda would be lying if she said that she wasn’t a little curious. Berk would have welcomed Annika if she needed a place to stay, especially with her friendship with Hiccup, so why didn’t she—

Uncle Sven tapped her again before she could dwell on the thought any further. ‘Sleep? It’s been a long day,’ he signed. 

She stretched her legs before standing up and signing, ‘Okay.’

—

Before she knew it, three days had passed and Hiccup had to go back to Berk. Uncle Sven somehow managed to build a bed and table for her in between tasks. The roof’s thatching was almost done, too, which is a miracle in and of itself considering how none of them were thatchers. Her body ached from the hard labor and she longed for a warm bath. She groaned, running her hands through her hair, at the realization that she wouldn’t have warm baths for a while. She doesn’t even have bowls for soup either! Maybe this was all a big mistake. Hilda looked down when she felt someone tapping her foot as she was sitting on the frame of the roof. 

Gustav looked annoyed with his cheeks all red and puffed up. 

‘What?’ Hilda signed. ‘I’m busy,’ shaking a handful of heather at him. Uncle Sven was on the other side of the roof, paying them no mind. 

‘Annika yelled at me,’ he answered, speaking as he signed. His gestures slurred into one another. ‘I should have left with Hiccup!’

Hilda smirked and raised an eyebrow, prompting him to elaborate. He had promised that he wouldn’t leave until the house was built and she was settled in, and he was far too proud and stubborn to break a promise. 

He pouted and dropped his shoulders. He looked like he was muttering as he signed shyly, ‘I dropped a piece of wood on her foot.’

She felt a sound escape her lips and he immediately shook his head and waved his hands, ‘I said I was sorry but she’s still angry at me!’

‘I’d be angry, too,’ she signed. ‘Wood’s heavy.’

‘She’s scary when she’s angry,’ Gustav signed and attempted to copy Annika’s expression, as if it was going to gain him sympathy. 

She laughed then repeated for emphasis, ‘Wood’s heavy.’ She kicked his helmet, tipping it over. 

Gustav quickly fixed it and slapped her foot, giving her the middle finger. She stuck her tongue while he glared at her then he turned to face Uncle Sven, who must have cleared his throat or something and signed, ‘Just say sorry again later,’ to which Gustav sighed deeply. 

—

Hilda laid on the ground as Uncle Sven and Annika set up the campfire. The grass was soft beneath her, tickling her skin. Gustav sat next to her and signed, ‘Let’s go for a swim tomorrow? Annika said there’s a lake over there,’ he pointed overhead, towards the west of her hut. It was too dark to see anything beyond the trees and it must have been several meters away if they couldn’t see it during the day. Maybe that’s where the stream led. 

She took a deep breath and nodded. ‘I want a warm bath,’ she signed.

‘Go back to Berk,’ he laughed. 

She huffed and waved him away, closing her eyes. Hilda knew it was a joke, of course, and she was thinking the same thing just a few hours ago, but it felt different when someone else was saying it. And even more annoying coming from Gustav of all people.  She let out another huff. A swim would be nice though. She could already imagine dipping in refreshing cool water after a hard day's work. She opened her eyes and sat up, only to find Gustav gone and Uncle Sven walking towards her. 

He knelt in front of her, ‘Let’s build a tub tomorrow so you can have a warm bath soon.’

Her heart welled up and tears crept up her face. Had he been watching them talk? Or did Gustav tell him? Or did he just remember? Either way, she nodded, grinning, ‘How?’

‘I’ve got spare boat parts, can be used for a tub,’ he shrugged. ‘I can build a basin, too. For the other things, I’ll need to come back.’

She tackled him into a hug, almost toppling the big man over. She grinned so wide her cheeks hurt, ‘Thank you! Thank you!’ She squealed as she signed, making Uncle Sven wince. For once in her life, she drew back and apologized which made her uncle raise his eyebrows in surprise.

‘It’s okay,’ he signed. ��Your voice is a good thing.’

Hilda rolled her eyes. She pointed at him then plugged her ears, scrunching her nose and closing her eyes. He took her hands away from her head and shook his head with a smile. His shoulders were shaking a bit, maybe he was chuckling. She pursed her lips.

‘Was this,’ she started, nodding to her hut, ‘Am I making the right choice? Moving?’

‘Now you doubt?’ Uncle Sven patted her back, almost making her cough. ‘We already built a house.’

‘A little scared,’ she admitted. ‘On my own.’

Uncle Sven’s features softened. He nodded and looked into the distance, beyond the hut, beyond the sheep, beyond the stream. ‘You were very small when you came to live with me,’ he finally looked at her. ‘Now, you’re bigger. Stronger.’

Hilda smirked, ‘But not strong enough to ride a dragon?’

‘That’s different,’ he pursed his lips. ‘Can’t say if this…’ he gestured around them and shrugged. ‘...is good or bad but I will support you. If good then good. If bad, you will always have a home in Berk.’

‘I thought you didn't want me to leave,’ Hilda signed and rubbed her nose, sniffing away any sobs that might escape her.

‘Can’t keep you forever,’ Uncle Sven ruffled her hair. He smiled and cupped her cheek. ‘Your father would be proud. You're all grown up.’

‘Are you and Aunt Revna proud?’

‘As proud as we can be.’

And that's when her tears poured.

—

Her stomach dropped the moment she let go of the vine, limbs ungracefully flailing in the air. A scream flitted out her lungs before she hit the cold water. She emerged with a sharp inhale, only to be met with a big splash to the face. She snorted, barely even looking when she splashed back and dove back down to grab his foot, pulling him under. Gustav yelled under water when he saw her, air bubbling out his mouth. She grinned, quickly swimming away to shore. She laughed as she crawled upon the sand, Gustav thrashing behind her to splash her the best he could. It was horribly inefficient, of course, but highly entertaining. 

‘Loser,’ she jabbed a finger to his forehead when he dragged himself next to her. 

‘Siren,’ he flicked her hand away. His hands shot to his ears when she started singing from the top of her lungs. He lunged at her, covering her mouth with his wet wrinkly sandy hand. With the other he signed, ‘Shut up! Shut up! Annika might think you're dying!’ which only made her sing with a stronger force and made him tighten his grip on her face.

Hilda licked his hand, against her better judgment, causing Gustav to jump away from her at the cost of getting sand in her mouth. 

‘You’re so gross and immature!’ Gustav signed after wiping his hands against his pants. He also flipped her off. And under normal circumstances, Hilda would have made a retort but all she could focus on was spitting and rinsing the sand off her mouth. She wished she had made a retort though because now, Gustav had an annoying look of victory on his ugly face and he was no doubt laughing at her. She kicked water towards him, immediately cutting his laughter off, and flipped him off.

—

It was a strange feeling: missing Uncle Sven and Aunt Revna. She thought it would feel the same as missing Grandpa Sam but it was worse. Way worse. And the fact that Gustav was still here, for who knows what, was not helping at all. Since Uncle Sven left two days ago, she had hugged all her sheep at least once a day but they weren't fans of the affection so she needed to chase them around the pen to give them a hug. It was ridiculous and Gustav would laugh at her. She could give Gustav a hug instead, but he refused to wash the few clothes he brought and she’d rather hug her sheep than a stinky Gustav. It's not like he was a fan of her hugs either. He always said that she hugged people like she was trying to crush their bones.

Gustav sat across her, rambling to himself as they watched their food cook over the fire. Annika had excused herself from meals ever since Uncle Sven left. Hilda poked the fire and turned her stick of fish around. Did Annika think she and Gustav were too young to be good company? Or maybe she found their antics annoying? Or maybe…

Gustav nudged her foot. ‘What are you thinking about?’ 

‘We should invite Annika to eat,’ Hilda signed. 

Gustav groaned and she raised an eyebrow. He took a stick from the fire and wrote on the ground: SCARY.

She rolled her eyes and took the stick from him, writing NOT in front of what he wrote so that it read: NOT SCARY. Then she added, SAD.

It was now Gustav’s turn to roll his eyes. ‘How do you know?’

She didn't. ‘I just know.’ But grief is a familiar friend she can recognize anywhere.

Gustav looked to the direction of Annika’s hut though it was too dark to actually see it. ‘Tomorrow. Let's set up camp near her hut. You invite her.’

—

If a dragon could eat a mountain, it would look like the dragon that was guarding the wild flock. Its limbs were as thick as ancient trees, its head bigger than boulders, its antlers as wide as ships. At the end of its tail was a leathery ax. Its skin was painted like the sunset. She could feel its movements all the way from the hill where she and Gustav observed it.

‘What is that?’ Hilda asked but Gustav wasn't paying attention to her. He watched the beast slack jawed and wide eyed. She tapped his shoulder and asked again.

‘No idea,’ he answered, scratching his helmet. She had long given up on wondering if he knew that his helmet was not a part of his head. He added, ‘I’m not Fishlegs.’

‘You haven't seen it before?’ Hilda signed.

‘No,’ he signed. ‘Did Annika not mention it? How will you catch them?’

‘Annika must haven't seen it with them.’

‘It’s a big thing to miss.’

The flock around it was quite big for a wild flock. It must have been more or less the size of Uncle Sven’s flock. They looked tiny next to the mountain of a dragon but they otherwise looked calm, grazing around it. Some of the sheep were even huddled by the crook of the dragon’s forefeet. 

Gustav tapped her shoulder then pointed at the dragon then the sheep and made a show of ravaging an imaginary sandwich. She shook her head, pointing to the huddled sheep.

He furrowed his brows. ‘How will you get the sheep?’ he asked. ‘Pinky, Point, and Thumb can't take that down,’ he added, nodding to her trio of Terrible Terrors who were preoccupied with chasing each other's tails.

She shook her head again then pointed to the dragon then to herself. ‘We’re the same. I'll need to befriend it.’

‘You’re crazy,’ he signed as he got up. ‘I’m gonna go set up the campfire. Come with?’

‘No, I'll meet you later,’ she signed and watched him leave, disappearing into the woods. When she turned back to watch the dragon, she found it staring right at her. 

Hilda held her breath as it tilted its head to the side and watched her with intelligent eyes. Pinky, Point, and Thumb must have felt her freeze because they crawled right next to her, engaging in the staring contest with the giant. It stepped forward, dropped its jaw, and spread its colossal wings. A gust of wind fell upon the island like a wave. Birds and dragons alike took to the sky in panic, the earth rumbled beneath her, her Terrible Terrors trembled as they covered their heads. Even the dragon’s flock ran circles around it. Hilda’s heart pounded against her chest, a chill running down her spine, yet she stayed still, eyes locked with the giant. 

It blinked. 

Then it turned away.

—

Gustav looked horrified and relieved  when she got to the camp. She had to reassure him multiple times that she was okay and that no, she did not hear the loud roar; no, the dragon did not eat her or any of its sheep; yes, she was still deaf; and no, she did not become more deaf because of the roar. And to her surprise, he declared that he was going home tomorrow. 

‘We need Fishlegs’ brain,’ he had signed. ‘We need to know what dragon that was.’

She thought he would have demanded to stay two weeks more to act as a “guard" but maybe the giant spooked him too much for that to even cross his mind. It did sound like a good idea—him going home to gather information about the giant—but she couldn't help but feel sad that he was leaving her. 

He waved his hand in front of her face and looked like he was expecting something from her. 

“What?" she asked, raising her brows.

He nodded towards Annika’s hut then pointed at the extra fish they were grilling. 

‘Can you knock for me?’ she signed as she stood up. ‘Don’t want to scare her.’

Gustav made a show of groaning and sluggishly stood up. Annika’s hut was a few paces away from the campfire and he made every single step count. Hilda rolled her eyes and planted her hands to her hips as she waited for him to catch up.

‘What’s wrong with you?’ she signed when he finally made it but he simply ignored her, knocked, then sprinted back to the campsite. When the door opened, the situation finally sunk in. Annika didn't know her home signs! And her friend who did know her home signs, for whatever reason, bailed on her. She hoped the signs were straight forward enough for Annika to understand.

She stepped back when Annika came into view. She didn't realize that they were the same height. The older girl somehow always felt and looked taller than her. The dark circles were prominent beneath her green eyes. She had a feeling Annika’s flushed cheeks and red nose wasn't just from the cold but she chose not to say anything about them. Instead, she made a sweeping gesture between them and pointed to the campsite, then she made the shape of an “o" with her hand, fingertips facing her face and tapped her lips twice. 

Annika watched her hands closely, brows furrowing then for a split-second, her face lit up. “Okay," she said, nodding.

Dinner was quiet with Gustav only glancing at Hilda every now and then with a barely concealed smile. Annika mostly kept to herself, focusing on her meal while looking out into the sea. Strangely, when she caught herself staring at the sea, she would straighten up and stare at the fire instead but the sea somehow always pulled her away. Perhaps now would be a good time to ask her about the shepherd dragon but Hilda wouldn't even know where to start. Annika didn't even mention the dragon in the first place so what if she didn't know anything about it? That it was even there? On top of that, a giant dragon seemingly protecting a flock of sheep sounded like something out of a fairytale. Instead she nudged Gustav with her foot and broke the silence, ‘When will you leave tomorrow?’

‘Dawn, maybe,’ he shrugged. ‘Will you miss me?’

‘No,’ she signed with a smile to which he rolled his eyes.

She was in the middle of asking him to write her letters when Annika caught his attention. He turned his back to Hilda and it was too dark to properly read Annika’s lips. When Gustav finally turned back around, he pointed at Annika.

Annika glanced at Gustav before signing. Palm facing her, she touched her fingertips to her chin then brought her hand forward and out like she was blowing a kiss. ‘Thank you.’

Hilda smiled, heart fluttering. 

After Annika left, Gustav turned to Hilda with a look that only meant trouble and wrapped his arms around himself. He rubbed his shoulders and arms sensually while making a kissy face. 

Hilda groaned, raising her hand and closing her eyes, which earned her a punch on the shoulder. She yelped and pushed him away. She grabbed a stick and wrote on the ground: MORE YOUR TYPE. He squinted as he read then scowled at it, pointing his thumb down.

‘Same look as Astrid,’ she signed, shaking her head in disbelief. She mimicked Astrid’s posture and pretended to have a braid to hammer down her point. 

‘I don't see it,’ he waved her away. 

She grabbed the stick again, poking him before spelling slowly on the ground so that he had a stupid look on his face while reading the word: STUPID. 

—

Dawn came too quickly. Gustav woke her up before leaving. She knew he wasn't fond of her hugs but she hugged him tight anyway. He had to take a moment to catch his breath after she let him go. She also bid Fanghook goodbye, planting a sleepy kiss on the dragon’s head. They were gone before the sun rose and Hilda couldn't return to sleep alone. 

—

Her sheep were too aware of the giant dragon watching them to graze peacefully. Hilda couldn't blame them as she felt the same way. She almost felt bad for herding them so close to the wild flock but if she led them anywhere else, she’d feel a tug in her heart to bring them where they were right now. The earth trembled beneath her. She faced the giant and found it stepping forward, taking a deep breath. It was going to roar for sure. She yelled to catch her dragons’ attention and signed when their eyes were on her. ‘Gather sheep, lead them back to the pen.’

Point snapped at the sheep while Pinky and Thumb corralled them to the right direction. They moved just as the wind blew and the wild flock started running in circles. Hilda stood her ground, leaning against her crook, while her bones shook like the earth beneath her. The giant’s eyes were on her and hers on the dragon. Her heart threatened to escape her ribs, beating hard against her chest. The giant was trying to push her for sure, but it would take a lot more than a roar to spook her away. She raised her arms wide open with a grin. It was her turn to roar.

[creativity-deficient]

So, in defense of Stanford Pines

As the gravity falls fan in me has awakened once again per the release of the Book of Bill, I wanted to write a quick character analysis/essay on one of my two favorite characters in the series, Stanford Pines.

Now it’s important to note that Ford is in fact, a very flawed character, and this essay is in NO means meant to downplay that. He’s absolutely an egotistical asshole who was way too in his own head and focused on the end goal to fully appreciate the people and things he has around him, which ultimately ended up playing a huge part in his downfall.

However I do want to talk a little bit more about his side of things, as this is something I feel like isn’t quite done enough justice in the series, making it easy to just see him as a jerk or take Stan’s side in the fight between them, and has always been something I’ve really appreciated about both Journal 3 and now, the book of bill, both providing a new perspective on his character and exactly WHY he turned out the way he did.

I want to start from the beginning, by delving a bit into Ford’s childhood.

It’s a common misconception in the fandom that Ford had a good relationship with his father. He was the loved child, while Stanley was the unloved child. Now there’s no denying that Stan’s relationship with his father was…considerably worse, but with how deep Ford’s own insecurities and his obsession to “be the best” lie, I find it very hard to believe that his own relationship with his father was a healthy one either.

Filbrick was considered a VERY strict man, who was not easily impressed, making it very likely that Ford was either groomed into thinking, or at least at some point convinced himself that his smarts were the only worthwhile thing about him, especially since he pretty much already felt like a freak because of his fingers.

It’s even mentioned in the book of bill that his father wouldn’t want him returning home without millions. I mean, does that SOUND like a loving father to you?

And that brings me to his falling out with Stan. Yeah, EXTREMELY dick move to let your father kick out your teenage twin brother over some dumb mistake, however, it’s always felt a bit weird to me, like there was much more going on then just “you destroyed my project I’m throwing out our entire brotherly bond we spent the last 17-18 years building fuck you” because let’s face it, huh??? Kicking your own TWIN BROTHER, who you have been best friends with all your life, to the curb for some dumb school you literally learned about DAYS ago was something that never made sense to me, and I always struggled to understand why and how it even had to come to that.

But, let’s look it at this way. To Ford, Stan was the only person he had. They were the only people each other had, the only people that truly got each other. Ford considered Stan the only person he could trust at that point in time, this only person who wouldn’t treat him differently than others. And what does that person do? Completely betray that trust and destroy his project. Yes, we know that it was an accident, but Ford didn’t. Was he wrong to automatically assume that Stan did it on purpose instead of just, you know, talking it out? Oh absolutely, but we already established that he clearly doesn’t have healthy coping mechanisms, and all things considered, I don’t think Stan really helped his case when it came to proving his innocence, as both before and even after the confrontation, all he can seemingly think about is their boat. All things considered, I can’t completely blame Ford for thinking it was an act of betrayal. Does that completely justify his response? Oh absolutely not. But I DO think the situation goes a bit deeper than people assume.

Then we have his time in gravity falls. It’s hinted at a bunch throughout the series, journal 3, and the book of bill that Ford, despite his anger, truly missed his brother, and regretted his actions towards him (the swingset and stan o war in his dreamscape, holding on to that photo of him and Stan as kids all those years, not being able to think back on his childhood at glass shard beach without growing sad, etc).

“Well, why didn’t he just contact him then???”

Well, to be fair, he kind of had a lot going on, and by a lot, of course, I mean Bill.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that the relationship between Ford and Bill was EXTREMELY toxic. Bill, doing what Bill does best, leeched onto Ford’s already deeply set insecurities to led him into a false sense of security, one where bill and ONLY bill truly understood him, and that everyone else was out to get him and couldn’t see his true potential, effectively isolating him from his friends, family, and even society.

Ford went through HELL in this period of time. He was left alone by bill for long periods of time until he was desperate and dependent enough to lash out. He was gaslit and manipulated into pushing the people he cared about away. When he decided he wasn’t going to do bill’s bidding, he was literally TORMENTED for it. In all fairness, I don’t really think he was in the right mindset for ANYTHING during that time, losing himself in BOTH his own stubbornness and this endless cycle of abuse.

Despite this though, despite ALL of this, all the manipulation, their falling out, etc, Stan was still the ONLY person (apart from Fiddleford) Ford thought of to take the Journals, the only person he considered to be trustworthy. Yes it was petty of him to bring up the project yet AGAIN (let it go my dude), but I do think it is important to acknowledge that he still thought of Stan pretty highly at the time, or else that wouldn’t have been the case.

“Oh but Alex he told Stan to get away from him yadayada!!!” Uh, no he didn’t. He just told him to hide the journals, not that he couldn’t come back afterwards, that was just Stan assuming the worst.

On that note, I do think it’s important to also acknowledge that while Stan is definitely, in the eyes of a lot of people as well as myself, the more sympathetic of the two, he’s definitely made his fair share of mistakes as well. I don’t think there’s really truly a right or a wrong in this argument, I think instead both of them are two very complex characters who had both been through a lot at that point, and both have made their mistakes (even if Stan’s were a bit more justified in most cases)

Then of course, he gets pushed through the portal, and spends the next 30 years between dimensions.

Now for anyone who hasn’t read journal 3 (spoilers ig? The book is pretty old atp but I figured I’d give one anyways) Ford is basically told by an oracle that he “has the face of someone who is destined to defeat bill” (a lot of people call him egotistical for assuming the oracle was talking about him and not his brother, but I digress. If an oracle looked YOU deep into your eyes and told you you had the face of someone destined to save the universe, be honest, would YOU think they were talking about your sibling??) Ford then proceeds to spend the next 30 years building a weapon to effectively defeat bill, and just as he’s about to finally use it, he’s sucked (not literally) back into gravity falls, not ONLY effectively erasing all of his hard work and progress, but risking weirdmaggedon in the first place. On TOP of it all, he also learns that Stan has been using his name all these years, and that he now has a pretty extensive criminal record.

Yes, Stan did it all in his best interest, and Ford could’ve absolutely shown more appreciation, but all things considered, I’d be pretty pissed off too.

But, all things considered, at the end of it all Ford still has those he hold close to his heart. He missed Stan all those years, considered Fiddleford a true friend and was super appreciative to have him there while they worked on the project together, he’s joyous to find out he has a niece and nephew, etc, and when he realizes he’s hurt these people, namely his brother and former lab partner, he feels immense guilt, and does everything he can to atone to it.

I truly think Stanford’s character development is one of the best in the series, as he finally learns to appreciate what he has instead of trying to chase down an unachievable end goal, and it’s definitely something that I feel goes unnoticed in the grand scheme of things when it comes to his character.

Now, what was the point of this 1 am ramble?? The point was the highlight the wonderful complexity of Stanford Pines’s character. Yes he was an extremely flawed man. Someone who pushed away those he loved him pursuit of greater things, and let his own pride be the fall of him. However, at the same time, he’s also a man who bears a lot of scars, both metaphorical and literal, and an extremely complex character who deserves a lot more than to be characterized as this “cold, uncaring asshole” something I’ve seen WAY too much of. I feel like it’s important to acknowledge that he’s made mistakes while also recognizing the complexity of a lot of it too, as well as acknowledging that he did indeed, learn from those mistakes.

[labyrinthinehallow]

Friends I know it’s a reach in the sense that it’s not this deep in tf2s lore, but I think associating sniper with this song oughta happen more often. Can we give him this one

This could easily be me projecting more than I should. Being fake American AND fake Brazilian has done numbers on my psyche when it comes to the “come on LF don’t project onto this new character you like” challenge that I effortlessly fail every time, but Snipers “he’s Australian -> WELL he’s actually a New Zealander!” lore drop hit way harder than it was likely meant to.

*if you read more the alt texts are slightly important to my incessant rambling

To self indulge (something I am good at as a gluttonous product of man):

On one hand, the reveal of his nationality was a funny bit to play. We get the punchline, and then we move on and have something to draw funny art about. But on the other hand, I know anyone in the same boat would’ve gotten it as well, myself included; understanding the moments realization that you belong to two cultures, and yet you feel worthy of neither at the same time. The additional knowledge that you just aren’t quite like your peers growing up because of small differences that eventually mean nothing over time (this more for some than others, like Sniper himself). At least it clears up why you didn’t fit in as a child, but now there’s more deep rooted conflict to where you belong in its place—in my own experience, I still don’t feel like I’ll ever truly be home, and I got to know it from day one while he waited 26 years. Again, the comics really brisk past his reveal quickly and we aren’t left long to think about how the news hits him, learning after everything that he isn’t actually born an Aussie. That’s just how TF2 carries itself, with heavy punches and quick succession for humors sake. But I’d like to think about it from his perspective more, especially as a character who seems to shovel so much to the side to never be unpacked ever again.

I don’t think his parents abandoning the team immediately would’ve helped him to process this new information about his identity healthily pssshh whaat. What that’s crazy.

Not to dissect the lyrics too heavily I’ll just loosely translate the first few with my own pov for Sniper with how it’s been sitting in my head. Everyone reading is encouraged to skip this because it will not make sense because I am not eloquent

I can picture him sitting in his parents lab as they drone through their demise that marked his beginning. The realization coming then rather than when Miss Pauling had told him about his parents nationalities before the mission, as he heard her before, but it didn’t sink in properly until now. [“born in the East New Zealand, raised by the West Australia.”].

[“Torn in between cultural dressings*”] *cultural dressings in this context being less literal and more abstract, referring less to the culture shock of actual cultural clothing, but the culture shock of his parents from Australia, as humbler and more free spirited(?) Outbackers, compared to the dysfunction and spotty intelligence of the scientifically driven pairing he originated from. I think sometimes about how different he would’ve been if he stayed with his biological parents, in a way. They’re kind of awful (IMO), but it makes me wonder about if he’d ever long for something beyond their interests in science and tech, something less rigid and more freeing. That’s besides the point though.

Knowing he cares deeply about both his parents (though he doesn’t explicitly state he loves anyone), but now feeling inadequate to both countries. His brain death scene shows us he loved his adoptive parents when he wishes to stay with them rather than return to the living, and his willingness to risk his life for his father even after his mother abandoned them shows care for the other two. That’s what makes both homes feel right, but neither feel whole to him; being raised in a country he was proud of, only to realize it’s not his, juxtaposed by his real home country—a country he never lived in, and has never known. [“Both may feel right, but neither feels whole.”]

[“Mother I’m torn between two different homes.”] for this I’m just. I can’t help but imagine him at the payphone for this one. By the time he knows this all, his adoptive parents are dead and his biological parents ditched, he has nobody to really confide in about this, and how could he articulate it to his team at all? It’s a dysphoria (for lack a better word) that I haven’t even managed to articulate myself for YEARS and I’m trying to talk about a character in the same shoes! idk how he’d do it! He probably just wants to talk to his mom. The one who actually STEPPED UP🗣️ … and can’t. So I can picture him venting to the phone instead, the dial tone on the other end is his closest grasp of comfort for this.

Now that I’m done spamming, I’d like to conclude this simply: I think he deserves this song for its relatability to his conflict as a character born in one place, feeling out of his element, then learning it’s because he’s actually from a different country he also knows he’d never belong in. Mother by Haley Heynderickx for Mr. Mundy a treat?

I know this is a letter salad and I don’t have any idea as to whether or not anyone’s gonna understand what I’m saying, my head feels like soup and I’m sharing my brain rot as a distraction from the last day or so. If you read all that then take this lil wip here as compensation. If anyone else felt they related to him in that sense as well don’t hesitate to share, we’ll all find home eventually.

ദ്ദിᵔ.˛.ᵔ₎

[bcdrawsandwrites]

Day 16: Amputation / Chronic Pain / Hospital Characters: Caligosto Loboto Warnings: Amputation, torture Summary: Keeping track of multiple clients had always been a pain, but Loboto had never realized just how much of a pain it could be until now.

The note on the calendar seemed to jump out at him, and Loboto's entire body went tense.

Ah. Yes. That had been coming up.

It had been at the back of his mind for the past month or so, but every time the thought of it popped up, he'd waved it away, thinking, Bah, I'll get to that in a minute. It wasn't uncommon when he was working with more than one client, and especially when he was really on a roll with something.

Such had been the case this time, when he'd been working on figuring out how to make that sneezing powder General Oleander had discussed with him, and when he'd been preparing the ingredients to make it. He'd figured it out, sure enough, only to discover later that the powder would lose its effectiveness if left sitting, so he needed to procure a pepper grinder for its use. His mind had been entirely absorbed with working on this, so that'd he'd entirely forgotten about his other client.

This one was... an interesting fellow. His clients always tended to be, given his line of work, but this one was a psychic himself, looking to create an anti-psychic weapon. Hah! Who would've thought a psychic could want to harm his own disgusting kind like that? Not him, that's for sure. Not that he was psychic himself, of course.

Still, Loboto's hands gripped the edge of his work bench as he stared at the circled date on the calendar—today. His loupes darted over to a piece of paper situated below that, which was coated in a fine layer of dust. Quickly he snatched it up and looked it over, wondering if he could throw the thing together before his client got here, but no—it required many different things that he did not have immediate access to.

Loboto gripped the paper, glaring down at it, and finally slammed it down on the table again. Fine. It was fine. He'd meet with the client and tell him he needed an extension—he could do the project, but a job this precise needed time. He was sure to get chewed out—perhaps have fire lobbed at him or something—but he would manage.

Keeping his back straight, he marched out of his lab and down into the asylum, making his way to the storage room to check for Sheegor. Once she’d been made aware of what was going on, he headed out. He ignored Crispin's mindless praise and Fred's incoherent rambling, Gloria's pointless plays and Boyd's paranoia, all the while running different apologies through his head—strategies in case everything went belly-up like a dead fish.

Worst case scenario he'd tell the client off—tell him he can hire someone else for the job.

Finally he was down at the beach, waiting to see a boat creeping toward the island. No need to make him come all the way up to the lab and give him something else to be angry about. He waited at the shore, his feet sinking into the frosty dirt, and his hands twitching near the venus flytraps just so he could see them move. When still no boat appeared, his gaze turned to the shallow water along the shore, following the fish that made their home there. Busy as he usually was, he didn't get the chance to watch the marine life often.

"Enjoying yourself, Caligosto?"

With a startled squawk, Loboto spun around. There, directly behind him, was his client. He wasn't near as tall as Loboto, but coming up to his shoulders was an impressive feat regardless. Loboto looked down at him, then back and forth over the shoreline.

"Well? Where is it?"

Loboto turned back to his client with a frown. "Was gonna ask you the same thing. Where's your boat? Or did you take a swim? A bit chilly for—"

"Where is the weapon, Caligosto?"

He tutted. "I was getting to that! So you see, this project has turned out to be a delicate procedure, and will need a bit more time in the operating room, so to speak.”

The man stared at him—or, Loboto presumed he did. It was annoyingly difficult to tell with his face shadowed under that wide-brimmed hat. "...You don't have it."

Loboto stiffened, and sighed inwardly. All right, it was going to be one of those clients. "No, I don't have it. But if you're willing to grant me an extension, I can certainly—"

"I asked for it by today." The client leaned in close, and Loboto could smell the cigarette smoke on his breath. "You told me it would be ready by today."

"Yes, well, I underestimated the time it would take," Loboto retorted. He took a step back and looked up at the tower. "If you'd like to come to my lab to talk this over, I can easily reschedule your app—"

The client grabbed him by the collar and yanked him down to eye level. "On the contrary, Doctor, I think we should discuss this in my office."

Before Loboto could protest, the beach abruptly disappeared.

—

Okay, so he'd figured the meeting would be in the client's office, but hey, it had been worth a shot.

Grumbling, Loboto looked around, finding the place maddeningly dark—worse than Thorney Towers, even. He'd been here once before, but then the client had at least been gracious enough to have a light on over the table where his plans had been laid out. Now though, he could hardly see anything, save for whatever the light from his loupes bounced off of.

"I like what you've done with the place," Loboto grumbled. He didn't move, for fear of bumping into a table or chair or who knew what.

"I'm going to cut to the chase," the client said, suddenly directly in front of him. Loboto took a step back. "This failure is not acceptable."

"Did you have to bring me here to tell me that?" Loboto snapped. "Look, if you don't like the way I handle things, you're free to find another—"

"No, Doctor, I'm not." The man leaned in closer, and his smoky breath reeked. "This plan needed to be known to as few people as possible. You know of the plan, of the weapon, and I am not letting word of it get out to anyone else. Do you understand?"

Loboto waved a hand in front of his face. "Yeah, yeah, loud and clear. Unlike your breath. Yeesh! When was the last time you brushed?"

"No, Doctor, I don't think it's clear."

"What, you really don't remember? I guess that's not a surprise—"

"It is not clear to you," the man said, "how much of a problem this is."

Loboto stared, and the man, he was sure—though he couldn't see his stupid eyes—stared right back. "You can't rush dentistry," he said coolly. "But if you're willing to help, we might be able to move things along faster."

"Oh, don't worry. I know how to get you to move this along faster, and I know how to help you as well."

Loboto sighed. "Whew! That's good n—"

Something snagged tightly around his middle, and he did not have to look to know that it was a disgusting psychic hand. He struggled, only for the hand to grip tighter.

"I think it's time you learn a lesson about what happens when you fail me."

Oh.

This was one of those clients.

"N-now wait a moment," Loboto stammered, and his voice pitched upward when his feet left the floor. "I've learned a lot of lessons already! You have to, to have a very official license like I—"

"Don't worry, Caligosto." The client lifted him up with his filthy, ugly psychic hand, and laid him down on a nearby table. "I'm sure you won't fail me again. Not after this."

"Y-you're quite persuasive!" Loboto whipped his head around as much as he was able. Still he couldn't see anything, until a light overhead suddenly flickered on, nearly blinding him. His loupes struggled to adjust. "I can certainly finish the project, but it would be a bit easier if you'd let me go!"

"I will in a moment," the client said, and Loboto could hear him rifling through some drawers nearby. "I just need to make sure this lesson is firmly cemented."

"C-cement, yes!" Loboto grinned, his mouth straining. "We use that in the dental field, you know! Use it to try to put teeth back together... but of course, it's better to just remove the bad tooth."

Pausing, the client stopped shuffling through the drawers. "Funny you should bring that up."

"Why?" Loboto tried to angle his loupes down so he could make some attempt at looking at the man. "Do you have a tooth in need of removal?"

The sound of metal sliding against wood reached his ears. "No," the client said. "But you have something in need of removal."

The blood drained from his face. "My teeth are fine—"

"I wasn't talking about your teeth, Doctor."

Before he could protest, another psychic hand grabbed his right arm and yanked it off to the side. At the same time, something else hovered into the light, and the teeth of a bone saw gleamed under the lamp.

Finally it clicked in his head what was happening.

"No, no!" Loboto cried, struggling against his disgusting psychic restraints as much as he was able. "Y-you can't do this—"

"I absolutely can, and I will, if that's what it will take to get you to take your job more seriously."

The bone saw was lowering toward him. "NO! I—I'll need my arm to work on this—"

"I'm sure you'll find a creative solution, like the one you promised me."

"NO!" He struggled harder, but the hands only gripped him tighter, the one grasping his arm gripping so hard he could no longer feel his hand, and it was getting hard to breathe. His chest heaved, his vision starting to glitch and flicker, the colors smeared and warping. In the fleeting moments when his loupes functioned, he could see three things: his client's form in the darkness, his own arm stretched out at his side, and the bone saw, looming ever closer.

Instinct kicked in.

BANG.

White-hot, blinding pain shot through his head as something purple exploded in front of him. There was a distant clatter, but he barely processed it, feeling dazed and disoriented.

"...You're full of surprises, doctor."

"Huhn... wha?" His loupes flicked on and off a few times as they adjusted. "What... happened...?" The bone saw was gone, so maybe his client had had a change of heart?

"You never told me you were psychic."

It took a moment before the statement registered, and when it did, Loboto scowled, his stomach turning sour. "I'm not one of those mentalists."

The grip around his middle tightened again. "Keep your outdated opinions to yourself." Anger edged into his voice as he went on: "It's time we proceed with the lesson."

Though the foggy pain in his head made it difficult to think, the sight of the bone saw hovering back into view made things alarmingly clear. "Wait, wait, NO—!"

The saw angled downward.

—

Loboto was not sure where he was, and was too exhausted and out-of-it to care. His throat hurt, and he was pretty sure some other part of him did, too, but his mind was dancing gleefully far away from whatever that was. He was also sitting, he was pretty sure.

"Good to see you awake."

His brain was sluggish to recall whose voice was addressing him. Once he did, he found himself too exhausted to be afraid, and too exhausted to remember why he would be afraid in the first place.

"I know you're feeling unwell, but as they say, live and learn. You'll live, and you've most certainly learned."

Unsure what he was supposed to have learned, he nodded.

"Good. Just know..."

Right now he just wanted to sleep. He nearly dozed off again right then and there, only for the man to seize his collar and yank him to his feet.

"If you let us down one more time," he said, and leaned in close, "I might not be kind enough to repeat that lesson."

The client stared into his eyes for a moment, and Loboto fought to keep his legs from giving out.

"I'll see you in a month, doctor."

And the next thing Loboto knew, the client was gone.

The room was gone.

Moonlight poured over him as he stood on the frosty shoreline, and chilly waves lapped at his boot heels.

[sentientcave]

Mood board for my latest project. Little bit of it below the cut.

You eat the lunch you packed and pull off your sweater, the noon sun warming you up enough to not need it, at least for the moment. You putt along to a new spot and try fishing again, this time catching three good sized fish. Surprising, considering the time of day, but sometimes you get lucky. You're thinking about heading back home when you spot a flash of white under the water.

You grab your camera, determined to be ready. And then a grey shape launches out of the water and into your boat, nearly capsizing it. The white orca sluices through the water next to your boat a moment later, regarding you disdainfully with one bloodshot eye. He flicks his tail as he dives again, soaking you and your passenger.

Your seal friend makes himself comfortable at the prow of the boat, entirely too pleased with himself.

"You're on thin ice, mister!" You tell him, turning back the way you'd come. Thanks to him you missed your photo and nearly went for a swim in deep water. You're pretty sure he couldn't help you out of that situation even if he wanted to, especially with a hunter swimming just below. You certainly don't want four inch teeth biting you in half.

Of course, you don't want to see your friend get eaten in front of you either. You know its the way of the ocean, but he's your little buddy.

The white orca cuts across your path again. You stop your engine, heart hammering, and grab your camera. He disappears into the depths for a moment, and then jumps a little ways away. If you didn’t know better, you’d say he was showing off. You get several quick snaps that you know will be gorgeous— Water droplets catching the sun, his ghostly white body stark against the backdrop of the dark ocean. You grin at the seal, and yelp when something thumps the bottom of your boat, rocking it harshly.

Then the white orca (he needs a name, so you land on Ghost) surfaces next to you, terrifyingly close, and spits water at the seal.

“Holy shit,” you breathe, adjusting your lens for the close contact, camera shutter clicking away as you shoot pictures. Ghost eyes you, and then spits water a second time. The seal looks deeply offended, but not concerned, even with his hunter bobbing in the water a few feet away. “Aren’t you a pretty boy.”

He is pretty. A juvenile, maybe, now that you see him up close— He’s a bit small for an orca, but he’s all alone out here, no pod to speak of, and a juvenile wouldn’t survive on it’s own. As if he can hear your compliment, he creaks at you.

The seal barks back. He seems offended by Ghost’s presence. Understandable, since Ghost was trying to eat him earlier. You get a few funny snaps of the two of them regarding each other over the rim of the boat, having a conversation that you have no way of understanding. You feel a bit insane. A bit like you’re going to wake up laying in the bottom of your boat any minute, and this will all be a funny dream.

[johaerys-writes]

Hello! Can you share some hcs/tidbits of Patrochilles that you choose not to show through the chapters of Disasters!AU? I'd love to see how you imagined them to be outside the picture😁 thank you, and have a nice day!!

Thank you so much for this ask!! I have a lot of headcanons for these two but after writing close to 150k words for this fic I'm not sure there are many I haven’t shared 😅 But there's a few that come to mind (mostly fluffy bc I love them):

- Every year Achilles makes a cake for Patroclus’s birthday. Every year, he fucks it up somehow. Either the frosting isn't right, or it doesn't cook all the way, or it deflates, or he forgets to get one ingredient or other. He has many talents but baking isn't one of them 🤣 And it's almost become kind of a tradition now so Achilles is always looking forward to Patroclus' reaction when he presents him his little fucked up cake. 

- They once tried to build a boat/raft from scraps and bits of wood they found in the garage and the fields. They started the project because a)they were bored, and b) Ajax told them that the Spercheios river goes all the way down to Athens (it doesn't). It took them two weeks to finish it and gather provisions etc for their voyage. They took it to the creek. It sank. Achilles cried for hours. It was wild

- I think this is obvious from the fic but as well as they get on with each other they do bicker quite a lot. Achilles can be deeply annoying and/or set in his ways, and Patroclus is also stubborn, in his own way. He is sometimes hesitant to try new things or might get a little sad and withdrawn or completely tune Achilles out, and Achilles just wants to shake him LOL. Also growing up Patroclus had to sometimes act as Achilles' impulse control, like "no we can't set this random pile of dried leaves by the side of the road on fire" or "no we won't ride to the beach at 3am on a winter Tuesday, we have class tomorrow" etc etc, but more often than not he is following Achilles in whatever dumb thing he's made up his mind to do, and then they bicker when it all goes south instead 🙃

- While they were in Phthia, they actually slept together almost every night whenever Peleus wasn't home. It wasn't romantic or anything at first, they just spent so much time together and in each other’s rooms that it didn't make sense to separate for sleep. Or sometimes they'd just fall asleep while talking/reading/watching films etc. Also like, with no parents or other caretakers in sight they were essentially each other’s source of comfort and affection and sometimes you just want to cuddle up with your bestie under a blanket and not do much else. ALSO also this isn't surprising bc the story deals quite a bit with toxic masculinity and internalised homophobia and how that affects Pat and Achilles, but I have a lot of thoughts about how the pressure to "man up" and "be tough" as they grew up really started to wear on them (especially Achilles), bc like what's wrong with crying or showing emotion or hugging your best friend or holding his hand or kissing him on the cheek! What's wrong with being soft and tender with the people you care about, what's wrong with any of it. So being able to come back home and have their safe space to vent and cry and be goofy and cuddle and not have to act a certain way around each other was such a lifesaver for them.

[Also I think their physical intimacy is something that's universal across every possible iteration of Patrochilles out there lol they're just super comfortable touching and hugging and kissing etc and I simply love how it might not even have sexual connotations a lot of the time, it's just something they do. They just like to glomp]

- I think this has been mentioned in the fic at some point, but Achilles often composes incredibly silly songs on the guitar or changes the lyrics to popular songs to tease Patroclus and Laika with. Often extremely early in the morning.

- Achilles has taught himself to knit and crochet as a result of a past hyperfixation over the span of a summer. The bright orange scarf he wears in Chapter 20 is one of his own creations, and Patroclus literally loves that thing. He teases him about it all the time. Achilles has made a few wonky beanies and mittens for Patroclus as well while he was practicing, they're very stylish (NOT lmao)

[dioxazinereads]

Congratulations, You're a Dad! Ch1

Before you read this, please keep in mind that English isn't my first language and that the timeline in this is vague. Expect the RE cast to be OOC, and that the whole virus shtick confuses me, so sorry if I got it wrong.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Chapter 1

This was supposed to be a simple mission.

Grab the files and leave.

Kill a few wayward zombies here and there.

Maybe meet Ada again.

But other than that, it was supposed to be trouble free.

Leon should’ve known it wouldn’t be as simple as that.

Especially with a track record like his.

But this was just bizarre.

(e/c) eyes stared at him from behind a tree. And Leon stared back, watching as the little child peek out from behind the tree before retreating back when they saw that he was staring and peaking out again when they thought he wasn’t looking anymore.

Leon could feel a headache coming. 

Approximately 14 hours ago, Leon was at home half way through his 4th bottle of whiskey when Hunnigan called him for another mission, 3 weeks after he finished the last one. 

Honestly, Leon was surprised when they took so long to contact him again. Usually, they’d give him less than a week’s rest before sending him out on another one. Such was the burden of being the top agent of the D.S.O.

Even more surprising was the mission he was getting assigned to.

“A retrieval mission?” Leon asked, pouring himself a drink. He took a sip of it, licking his lips before asking, “Who is it this time?”

“It’s not someone. It’s a file.” Hunnigan replied. “Very important ones, might I add.”

“And how important is this file that you're sending me, of all people, to get it?” He downed the whole glass before pouring himself a new one. He’s almost finished his 4th bottle, should he stop? Nah.

“According to our intel, there used to be an Umbrella lab underneath Coral Island.” Hunnigan replied, and Leon could hear her type something on her computer before continuing. “The citizens were unaware of the lab’s existence until they were searching for refuge from the infected.”

“And you got this where exactly?” Leon asked, finishing his glass and picked up the whiskey. He was about to pour it into the glass before deciding that that’s taking too long, and drank straight from the bottle. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand still holding the whiskey. “I thought communications were cut after the island was contained?”

“It was.” Hunnigan confirmed. Leon couldn’t see her but he imagined Hunnigan nodding when she said that. “Some of the survivors found a working boat and escaped the island. They were caught by US officials and were promptly quarantined and questioned.”

Ah, yes. 

‘Quarantined’.

Sure they were. 

Head tilted back, Leon downed the remaining whiskey, shaking it for good measure once he finished it. He placed the bottle back on the table and sarcastically said, “I’m sure they were welcomed with open arms and a party.”

Hunnigan, like a champ, ignored Leon’s words and continued on, “According to them, despite the lab being abandoned for years, it was notably clean.”

“Well, yeah.” Leon cut in. “It’s a contained area after all. I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t want something like dust and open air to fuck up their experiments.”

“Sealed rooms can get dusty still.” Hunnigan explained, not even bothered by Leon cutting in. “Further in the lab, they spotted infected scientists. And instead of, venturing further, the survivors went back to the surface-”

“Smart.” Leon said after sipping his 5th bottle. While Hunnigan recounted the events to him, Leon went to his stash of whiskey and grabbed another bottle which he was now drinking. “Don’t venture into places you know nothing about. Especially underground labs that would require passcodes and ids.”

“..and founded a refugee camp.” Hunnigan continued despite Leon cutting in for the 2nd time. “Your mission is to investigate the labs for any documents about future projects and/or the T-virus that plagued the whole island.”

The urge to be an asshole outweighed the resigned and tired agent.

“What if I don’t go?” Leon asked, leaning back on his chair, legs crossed while he tapped the whiskey bottle. He should not be doing this. Especially not to Hunnigan, who’s had to put up with his shit for years.

“Your plane leaves in 3 hours.” Hunnigan said, ignoring Leon’s words like it was second nature. “Pack your stuff and leave as soon as you’re ready. Additional weapons will be at your disposal at the airbase. Hunnigan out.” 

And the call ended as soon as she said that, leaving Leon to his thoughts.

He did not like that. 

Leon turned off his phone and chugged down the remaining whiskey before standing up from his seat. He placed his phone on the table and picked up the 4 other bottles on the table and disposed of them. 

After that, Leon headed to his room and picked up a duffle bag, his clothes already packed. He barely needed the bag nor the clothes in it, but he has once used it and that’s all the reason he needed to keep up with the habit. 

Besides, it was better to be over prepared than underprepared. 

Once everything was locked, Leon left the house, thinking about the bottles of whiskey he’d be drinking once he’d return.

That is, of course, if he’d survive this time.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

I'll be honest, I have no idea where this is going. I just have an idea that I want to write and zero plans how to execute it.

Another thing to note, I have an AO3, however I'm scared of the AO3 curse. So I'll only post this story here.

If you guys like the story, please don't post it on other websites unless I said so.

Also don't expect any post schedule, I'm writing this as it comes to mind.

[romancecroc]

Circles (part 7) - Jason X MC

(Ao3 version) (part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6)

Ysaline was constantly glued to her phone. Ever since their little moment on the boat, their previously frozen chat was now regularly spammed with text messages.

Either with classic good morning / good night texts or articles focusing on the differences between Unicorns and Pegasus.

It mirrored their usual interactions as well. Plenty of arguments within the chats, especially when it came to judging current events going on.

I don’t get it. What’s wrong with using robots for a restaurant opening? It shows innovation if done correctly.

You lose the charm only human waiters can provide. Robots are cute. And you don’t want cute for a Michelin Star Restaurant opening.

They didn’t always agree. Or rather, neither side was openly proclaiming that the other might have a point.

So it usually ended with agree to disagree.

Or as Jason liked to say you’ll see for yourself and then you’ll agree with me.

Unfortunately, due to work, their evening plans always got pushed to another day.

The project was slowly coming to an end. Ysaline’s part was almost done, since it focused more on organization, scheduling and collaborating with Jason’s team. Thomas was more needed now, setting up all the technicalities with the artists and the stage itself.

Yet she was glued to Devenementiel desk. And tonight, there was an event to celebrate the projects upcoming closing.

Everybody was invited. Including the members of Goldreams.

Her phone buzzed again.

What are you wearing tonight?

Ysaline almost chocked on her water.

Not sure yet. Why? You want to wear matching outfits?

She grinned at herself. Matching outfits were probably a nightmare for Jason. Plus, it’s not like they were a couple either.

But she imagined him rolling his eyes at the message. And that made her chuckle.

I was rather asking to grasp the dress code…

Just wear your suit. You can’t look more official than that. Unless you want to shock people, then just arrive in sweatpants.

You’re saying that as if I wouldn’t look good in sweatpants.

Now it was Ysaline rolling her eyes. She wasn’t going to respond to that.

Her phone buzzed one more time.

;)

Now she finally put her phone on silent.

She caught Elenda glancing towards her. Eyes narrow, but with a smirk, nonetheless.

It was hard escaping her observant eyes at the office.

While Elenda hasn’t asked any questions, it was clear she sensed something.

“Alright, I am heading out.” Amanda said out lout in the open space, rising from her chair.

“So early? The private event is still 4 hours away.” Roy said surprised.

“Yes, we only have 4 hours left. And I want to look good. Just think about all the potential clients we will meet tonight!” Amanda explained, fire in her eyes.

“We should all look extremely professional and cleaned up. After all, people from Goldreams will be there too – say what you want about them, but they always look good.” Amanda finished, grabbing her stuff.

Some people booed at her, but she shrugged and left.

Perhaps Ysaline should go home early too. There was time to shower, do her hair…

Shave?

Did she need to shave?

Now those 4 hours didn’t seem so long anymore.

“I will leave early as well.” Ysaline said, grabbing her things.

Elenda and Brune joined in, making their way out. Only the guys were staring at each other confused, wondering if they should leave as well.

Once Ysaline parted from the girls, Elenda winked at her again.

Maybe Ysaline would ask her if she knew anything. But it could wait.

For now she was just focusing on getting home as fast as possible.

“Woa. What’s going on?” Tasha asked, surprised to see her sister zooming into the apartment.

“Private event tonight. Need to get ready!” Ysaline quickly responded, sliding towards her bedroom to open the closet.

She quickly recalled the details of private event. Don Suave was celebrating the upcoming Concert Hall opening. He invited his inner circle, who are probably as rich as he is. Both companies helping out will be presented. And there is a chance that Don Suave will introduce Ysaline personally to others as well.

In other words, she needed to look good. Really good.

There were other reasons for it as well. But they were placed aside for now.

At one point Tasha came into the bedroom, witnessing her sister throwing outfits on the floor, the bed, left and right.

“What are you even looking for?” Tasha asked, picking up a few clothing items to admire.

“I am not sure. Serious? Professional? A little intimidating.” Ysaline explained, continuing her search.

“Ah. Something that doesn’t scream newbie.” Tasha added, nodding to herself.

A few combinations were made. Ysaline quickly tried them on.

In the end they both agreed on the red velvet dress. It showed some curves, wasn’t too tight, had elegant long sleeves and an open back.

A few golden accessories would match well the colors.

After showering, cleaning, doing hair and make-up, most of the time was already used up. Ysaline hurried putting on the dress. Luckily the location wasn’t too far, and the girls would wait at the location’s entrance for Ysaline.

Once she was ready, Ysaline looked at herself one more time in the mirror. Tasha really had an eye for fashion and make-up.

“Mom is back tonight. Just so you know.” Tasha added, gathering her own stuff.

“Oh? You can still stay here, you know.” Ysaline said, putting on her black coat.

“Nahh, maybe I’ll rejoin you in a few days. Just in case.” Tasha said, smiling to her herself.

They both exited the apartment, said their goodbyes with a hug and then went their separate ways.

Ysaline was trying to speedwalk, but the heels weren’t ideal for that. Within a few minutes she would hopefully get used to them.

She checked her phone one last time, noticing a recent message from Jason.

See you tonight.

---

“There she is!” Elenda said, waving at Ysaline who was crossing the street.

She made it in time after all. Amanda and Brune were there too, waiting in front of the location. It looked like a fancy hotel.

Elenda looked the liveliest with her mixed pastel colored dress. Amanda had a luxurious vibe, while Brune looked like a badass wearing special kinds of leather.

“Are we waiting for the others?” Brune asked, looking around.

“That’s probably better. We’re presenting the team after all.” Amanda added, checking the time.

Devon, Thomas and Roy arrived a few minutes after, all suited up.

“I still think this is too much.” Thomas confessed, looking down at himself.

“Maybe, but I got really scared when the others left early just to get ready.” Roy added with a laugh.

“Thank you for waiting. Are we all ready to go?” Devon asked around.

Everybody nodded.

Ysaline was starting to feel nervous.

“Alright, let’s go team!” Devon chanted enthusiastically, leading the group and walking up the stairs.

There were plenty of signs inside the hotel, directing the group towards Don Suave’s private event. It seemed like he booked the entire upper floor of the hotel for this.

“Have you ever been to such a thing?” Elenda whispered to Ysaline, feeling a little out of place.

Ysaline squeezed her hand. It somehow reminded her of their rollercoaster ride.

“Never. But try to have fun! If somebody bothers you, we can always leave.” Ysaline said, trying to be reassuring.

The signs lead them to an elevator, taking them to the 11th floor. Once the doors opened, jazz music was playing in the background, combined with chatter and the smell of champaign.

One of the staff members was talking to Devon, writing down everybody’s names on the registry.

After a quick please enjoy yourselves, the group moved towards the main room.

It was almost like a giant open space, food and drinks stacked up at almost every corner. There was a small stage at the center, occupied by a band playing music.

“Ahhh, there they are!”

Don Suave’s voice separated itself from the background noise. Luckily one could hear him, before seeing him.

He squeezed through the ground, shaking every member’s hand. When it was Ysaline’s turn, a normal greeting was not enough apparently.

“My dear Ysaline! I can’t thank you enough for your help. The event’s organization has been proceeding flawlessly!” he loudly proclaimed, spreading his arms.

Ysaline braced herself.

“And Thomas! A genius indeed, learning all the stage’s secret. You must share them with me once it is all over!”

Ysaline then realized that she and Thomas were about to be embraced. Both at the same time.

It was somewhat comforting that she wasn’t going to be alone in this.

When Don Suave’s arms did wrap up around them, she could see Thomas’ discomfort. Especially after 2 squeezes.

Still, it was better than getting her hand kissed.

Don Suave continued his admirable speech after releasing them, but both Ysaline and Thomas were busy recovering.

“Mr. Mendal! Please, come over here!” Ysaline heard Don Suave say.

When Ysaline looked around her, most of her coworkers had scattered. Even Thomas had somehow made a quick escape, possibly fearing another hug.

She then looked towards the figure emerging from another circle of people. He didn’t rush his pace, as he was gracefully holding a champaign glass in his hand.

Jason’s eyes were lazy at first, until he noticed Ysaline behind their shared client.

She really wasn’t trying to stare too much.

But Jason was wearing an all-black suit, his vest sticking out a little due to the dark silver color and patterns. Some of his ringers were different too, matching the rest of the outfit.

Jason finished his Champaign glass by the time he arrived, nodding towards Don Suave. Then positioning himself next to Ysaline, greeting her with his classic sly fox smile.

“Good evening, Ysaline.”

“Good evening.” she responded drily.

They never really talked about how to act in public. But it felt like an unspoken rule not to show any signs of fondness. And especially avoid anything related to boats.

“Now, I know there was some tension in the beginning…” Don Suave continued, dramatically waving his hands.

Jason took the moment to place his Champaign glass on a table, situated right behind Ysaline. While putting it down, he noticed the open back portion of the dress.

“Nothing to worry about. I think we sorted it out quite fast.” Ysaline said as neutral as possible, without looking at Jason.

“Indeed. It turns out that our lady here can be quite convincing…” Jason added slowly.

Ysaline didn’t react too much, until she felt a cold sensation on her back. Without anybody noticing, Jason was slowly brushing his fingers against her back, switching between circles and lines.

“Truly? Was it a new experience then, sharing a project with another event organizer?” Don Suave asked excited.

“It was. I’d describe it as thrilling as a shaking boat.”

If they weren’t surrounded by people, Ysaline would have elbowed Jason. Probably in the stomach. Lightly.

But she was using all her energy to remain focused. His touch against her skin was incredibly distracting.

Luckily, another guest was calling out to Don Suave. He excused himself, leaving Jason and Ysaline alone.

“Nice dress.” Jason whispered.

“I can tell. You’re really feeling it out.” Ysaline responded.

Some of her coworkers who previously fled, were now looking over to her.

Roy and Devon looked especially concerned.

“You know, I think this is going to be an interesting evening.” Jason said, finally withdrawing his hand.

“How so?” Ysaline asked, trying not to sound too disappointed by the lack of touch.

“We hadn’t really had the chance to continue our little… adventure.” Jason purred, grabbing another drink from a wandering waiter.

“I wonder, kitten… How many touches will it take until you break?”

Devon and Roy were slowly making their way towards them.

“What makes you think I will break first?” Ysaline said, almost confident.

“Probably a boat that almost sank a few days ago. But I look forward to the challenge nonetheless.” Jason said laughing.

Jason’s eyes caught something in the crowd. He then suddenly turned to Ysaline, lifted her hand and kissed it.

“Business calls. I’ll return soon for round 2.” he whispered, winking at her before vanishing into the crowd.

Devon and Roy finally made it by the time Jason was gone.

“Everything alright?” Devon asked with a neutral expression.

“What was that? Why did he suddenly kiss your hand-“ Roy started asking, but Ysaline cut him off.

“It’s fine. He was just expressing how much he enjoyed our… collaboration.” Ysaline explained, eyes constantly switching between them and the floor.

“But he-“

“I would reeeally love a refreshment. Shall we go to the bar?” Ysaline continued, cutting Roy off again. She was suddenly feeling very warm.

Devon nodded quietly and led the way.

---

Ysaline was not sure how ridiculous everything looked from the outside.

But Jason’s game turned out to be more fun than expected.

Did he have the upper hand at the start? Yes, no doubt about it.

But it turns out Ysaline didn’t need much to turn the tables.

“Excuse me.” She politely expressed, as she squeezed past a group of people. Jason was inconveniently in her way, causing her body to brush against his from behind.

Another time when they made eye contact, she just happened to enjoy a cherry. Pure coincidence.

It was silly. Not even part of the evening’s goal – all that make connections, present the company, establish yourself elements.

Of course she took part in idle chit chats, checked in with her friends. After all, some sort of visual decorum needed to be kept.

But playing a little game between all that? That was fun.

“So I hear you were part of the project organizers.” Somebody said to Ysaline.

She had no idea who these people were. She joined into the conversation because Devon, Roy and some others were a part of it.

“Yes. My focus was more the organizational part and working together with Goldreans for a smooth transition. Thomas, my other coworker, is now taking over for the execution part.” Ysaline explained, not sure where Thomas was hiding.

“Goldreams, huh? Wasn’t there a rivalry between you all?” another stranger asked, curious to uncover more.

“We work in the same field. Some healthy competition is a natural part of the process.” Devon explained, not taking the bait.

“It’s like we were exposed to it. If anybody suffered by a certain CEO, it was Ysaline. I mean you had to see him once a week!” Roy chuckled, drinking another glass of champagne.

“It wasn’t that bad.” Ysaline responded neutrally.

“It’s okay, you don’t need to be nice for Mr. Mendel’s sake.” Another stranger added.

“Why would you think I am forcing myself?”

It came out snappier than initially planned.

Aside from her workplace, she didn’t expect others to have a degree of animosity towards Jason. It caught her a little by surprise.

Though again, he did have a talent for pissing people off.

“Unless you personally had bad experience with him, of course. I wouldn’t want to imply you’re making it all up.” Ysaline said with a smile.

The strangers quickly laughed along. Probably hoping to move on from the topic.

When Ysaline excused herself, she walked over to the bar again.

Were all high-class events like this? Nonsensical chatter while drinking expensive wine?

Ysaline wondered if that was a necessary price to pay. Based on what she gathered so far, she’d rather support local events instead.

Sure, the concert hall opening was a big project. There was a lot of money involved.

But the people around it? Dealing with certain kinds of artists?

Sometimes it got tiresome.

This event was becoming tiresome.

Suddenly she felt somebody brush a strand of her hair.

When she looked to her side, it was Jason. Initially with a smirk, but it quickly changed to a concerned glance.

“It’s nothing.” She quickly said. It wasn’t very convincing.

After a brief moment of silence, he got a little closer.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Jason whispered.

He looked sincere. And it’s not like she was enjoying this event.

“Yes please.”

He nodded, followed by a quick look around them.

“I’ll get the car ready. Meet you at the entrance in 5 minutes?”

Ysaline nodded.

He gently squeezed her hand. Hidden from the eyes of others, of course, before making his way to the exit.

Ysaline was using the opportunity to say goodbye to the others. She was initially worried about Elenda, but she was apparently enjoying herself with the band members.

She couldn’t find Thomas or Roy, so she asked Devon to let them know about her withdrawal.

Her previous annoyance was slowly starting to lift. She could feel it while going down the elevator. Walking through the hotel’s main hall. Exiting the building and walking down the stairs.

As promised, Jason was outside, leaning against his car. Once he saw Ysaline walking towards him, he opened the car door for her. Then joined in from the driver side.

“Yes yes, I know. I’ll put the seatbelt on-“ Ysaline commented, pulling the strap next to her.

What she didn`t foresee was Jason pulling her towards him instead. Kissing her gently, slowly brushing his fingers against her cheek.

“Does this mean I win?” she whispered between the kisses.

Jason chuckled, slowly returned to his seat.

“We’ll see about that. Now…” he responded, turning on the car’s engine.

“Where would you like to go?”

Ysaline thought for a little bit.

“Honestly, anywhere that’s not here. I could eat something too.” She confessed, looking over to him.

“I see…”

He was starting to drive out of the parking spot and then settled on a certain direction.

“What do you think about pasta with calamari and tomatoes?”

[asterrrrion]

Alright so part two of my explaining BSD french authors:

Arthur Rimbaud !

This is the boy. Looks young, right ? That's cause he's seventeen in this. (Funnily enough, he's exactly the same age as Verlaine's wife. Verlaine, though, is 27 at the time they meet. Yeah, I wasn't kidding when I said he was a piece of shit.)

Rimbaud is kind of THE poet of teenage rebellion. He was born in 1854, under Napoleon III to place him back in his historical context. He wrote quite a bit in opposition to Napoleon, actually.

His father is absent at first, and then not here at all later. He has... A complex and complicated relationship with his mother. He gave her a disrespectful nickname, she was seen hitting him several times (although at the time that's hardly surprising...), but at the same time when he asked her to go see him in London (at a time where the trip was very expensive, and she'd never left France in her life before that) she came, and his sister described him then as "the happiest I'd ever seen him". She's often seen as the source of his inner anger and rebellion.

What he hates for sure, though, was living in his house, with his family, and especially in his hometown, Charleville, which he despises.

He's especially known for having fled his house a lot, as in several times a year, for several days every time, walking during the day and sleeping on the road during the night. His most famous poem, "Ma bohème" (unstranslatable title because "bohème" is a french concept, but it basically means living your life day after day, in communion with nature and/or your dreams, often with an artistic dimension and no money whatsoever - also has travel connotations because it derives from "bohemian"), actually talks solely about that.

He wrote from his fifteenth to his nineteenth birthday, and was - still is - seen as a genius, being one of the most influential french poets ever despite having written for only four years. He was famous for being uncontrollable, and it translates back to his style : he took extremely traditional forms and changed their rules. (Which weirdly enough actually kinda fits with Rimbaud's ability ??)

If we ever have a Baudelaire in BSD, know that his character will probably look up to him, seeing as Rimbaud is usually seen as continuing Baudelaire's legacy of completely revolutionising french poetry. His two most famous books are "A Season in Hell" and "Illuminations", his last one. His literary movement is symbolism, invented by Baudelaire, characterized by melancholy and an attraction to the ethereal and mysterious. Rimbaud himself thinks that "the poet must search and describe the unknown" and, well, too bad if he sacrifices his sanity. He's also one of the first after Baudelaire to write prose poems.

He stopped writing, forever, at twenty, after the Verlaine fiasco. Actually, he wrote "Illuminations" directly after, then gave it to Verlaine so that he could get it published instead of doing it himself.

That's where his life gets really weird. He tries to learn seven different skills and languages while traveling everywhere, fails, his sister dies and he shaves his head for her funeral, is forced into the military to fight in Java, then deserts, gets hired on a boat on his way back and becomes a sailor, then tries to get hired in the American Navy, doesn't get any answer, goes in a circus then a factory, and all of that while traveling everywhere in the world in the space of about three years.

Nobody knows where he was for the nine months after that - and during all of this, everyone who knows him is hoping that he gets back to writing poetry - and then he goes home to help his brother with his farm before leaving, AGAIN. He walks from France to Italy, then gets in a boat to Alexandria, where he works in a construction project to manage the workers. This keeps going for about eleven more years, so I can't list everything this guy did : we'd need a whole ass novel.

He stays in Northern Africa for almost the rest of his life, although he travels quite a lot in that region and never stops moving. In France, he's still as famous as he was at 17, and several eulogies are written for him without his knowledge. We can also note that he does weapon trafficking, for a very short period, at some point. He writes to his family that he's "bored", of all things. He's described by the people he meets then as "smart, sarcastic, not very talkative, never talking about his past".

He then dies in Marseille, in his thirties, from cancer in his leg.

I'm gonna be honest : I don't like his BSD characterization. Rimbaud's a wild card, a chaotic teenager, as an author. I also ! Hate ! That he's Verlaine's mentor. But that'll be the next part, where I'll talk of IRL Rimbaud and Verlaine.

Previous and future parts are in the #IrlBSDFr tag.