#and i was overheating when one was present and freezing when another was

[soggypotatoes]

having a dissociative disorder is so fucked up and confusing

like, I feel like that's obvious, but no... once you know you have it, once it's confirmed, it just gets so much more confusing than it was before

[redux-iterum]

Charred Legacy: Chapter Fifteen

(AO3 counterpart here.)

By the Three’s blessing, the walk around Barley’s home was uneventful. Not a single trace of animal that wasn’t feline or rodent could be found, and the farm went in a giant square with a perfectly straight fence bordering it. So long as one didn’t go into the corn, as Barley explained, one was very unlikely to get lost on this track of land. Fireheart could at least take some comfort in that.

The night passed, and when the next evening was just creeping over the horizon, Yellowfang returned with the apprentices. An aura of joy and awe radiated off of all of them; Brackenpaw was practically dancing on his way up to the Barn. Their mentors and mother went to meet them and were greeted with wild, half-yelled babbling about blessings and prayers and magic. Snowpaw, almost shaking with glee, was signing at an incomprehensible speed that even Ravenwing couldn’t keep up with.

“Well,” Greystripe said, “that, I would consider to be good news.”

Fireheart twitched his whiskers, watching Ravenwing repeatedly gesture for Snowpaw to slow down. “It’s good, yeah.”

“And they were there!” Brightpaw shouted, making Mousefur lean a bit back. “I felt them! They were really there! Horoa AND Suriin AND Rokhar!”

“That’s awesome,” Mousefur said, tail curling. “And who did you get blessed by?”

“We’re not s’posed to say,” Thornpaw said sharply, then his eyes went to Yellowfang. “Are we?”

Yellowfang snorted. “You won’t be blasted by lightning for it, child. Say what you like.”

Dustpelt gave her a dry look and said to Thornpaw, “It’s not a secret unless you want it to be. I got Suriin when I was your age.”

Thornpaw straightened up, the long fur around his neck flaring and his hesitance immediately forgotten. “I did too!”

Dustpelt nodded approvingly and ruffled his apprentice’s head-fur.

Swiftpaw wove around the little crowd and greeted Brackenpaw with a nose-touch. “So, did you get Rokhar?”

Brackenpaw shook his head. “I got Horoa. But—” he hurried to add. “But it was still cool! He’s cool too!” He peeked up nervously at the darkening sky, where the sun was inching its way down past the clouds into the distant horizon.

Frostfur purred. “He knows, don’t worry. Are you four hungry?”

The excitement of the ceremony was immediately forgotten for the excitement of food. The crowd of apprentices rushed into the Barn, leaving their mentors, mother and the seers to follow them with shared looks of amusement. 

---

Some nights passed after they returned, more than Fireheart was able to count (which wasn’t saying much). Every night, someone would go out through the hedge and watch the forest, and every night they would come back in and report unenthusiastically that there were cars and humans wandering about the borders, even after the smoke had finally been snuffed out. The Clan would have to stay another night, and another night.

Fireheart had always preferred the challenge of living in the wild compared to kittypet life, but it took staying in the Barn to see the effects of the latter on himself and his Clanmates. The easy hunting began to bore them all, even as they slowly thinned out the mouse and rat population—there was no reason to go outside into the corn and try their luck there (especially as Barley warned them that the rough corn leaves could scratch their faces and eyes if brushed up against). With that, another issue presented itself: the Barn was warmer than outside, sure, but it was a finite space, cramped and overheated compared to the open-skied space ThunderClan camp provided. With Theful herding rainclouds back into the territories’ sky, and with that rain occasionally freezing into slush, going out was even less of an option—but Fireheart watched his Clanmates fidget and stare at the rows of corn wistfully, the air growing colder and colder.

The very aura inside the Barn grew more and more agitated. Even the adults were trying to find something to do: grooming themselves and each other more, scooping stray straw up and scooting it around to make more nests, lazily chasing mice instead of catching them immediately, and so on. The apprentices and kits, meanwhile, took to wrestling or sweeping hay and clumps of soil at each other (which luckily gave the adults someone to groom), and their voices steadily got louder as the nights went on.

One night, Brightpaw tackled Swiftpaw with a yowl and the pair rolled around the nesting area where most of the Clan slept. Despite being smaller, it was impressive how strong Brightpaw was in comparison to her much older friend; she kept up with him easily and he was often the one being pushed back or knocked over. Thornpaw ran after them, yelling, “Stoppit!” and being completely ignored.

It took the ball of black, white and ginger crashing into a sleeping One-eye and rolling over her sides for someone to stop them. It was Speckletail, who simply pushed against them with her front paws and sent them sprawling out on either side of her. Their chuffs ended quickly and they got to their feet, heads guiltily low.

“Are you alright, One-eye?” Speckletail asked the pale elder.

One-eye sneezed and nosed her own ribs. “Well, nothing’s broken. I don’t think I died, unfortunately.”

Swiftpaw and Brightpaw together mumbled indistinct apologies.

Just as Speckletail was opening her mouth as she loomed over them, One-eye waved her bony tail. “Don’t scold them. They’re bored. I’d be wrestling, too, if it wouldn’t shatter what little of me is left.”

Cloudkit, fidgeting by Brindleface’s side, rambled up to Halftail, who was slightly behind One-eye, and pushed at him with a paw. “Can you wrestle?”

The dark tabby grunted. “Too old. And you’re too small.”

Cloudkit made a pouting face and turned around, now making his way up to Brightpaw. “I wanna wrestle!”

“You’re not going to,” Brindleface said, getting up and following him. She patiently scooped him with a paw back towards her. “It’s quiet time.”

Cloudkit pouted up at her now. “But they were—!”

“They weren’t supposed to be,” the tortoiseshell said, her patience more emphasized. “They should be doing something else.”

“Like what?” Brightpaw said with an expression not too dissimilar to Cloudkit’s.

A voice piped up. “How about a story?”

Heads turned; to Fireheart’s surprise, Ravenwing had gotten to his feet from where he was sitting with Greystripe and Snowpaw. His legs were quaking a little, and Fireheart could faintly hear his breathing grow rapid, but he sat upright instead of huddling.

“It’s been a while since we’ve had one, is all,” he said in the tone of an apology. “I’m sure the kits would like something, too.”

Cloudkit whirled around and left Brightpaw behind, running as fast as his little legs would allow to join Ravenwing, his and Fireheart’s siblings following him. The apprentices cheered up and trotted after the kits, and though no warriors moved, their ears were perked and eyes focused on Ravenwing. Fireheart quickly took position close to Ravenwing, but on the opposite side as Greystripe, ready to try and send all of his supportive energy to his friend.

But perhaps he didn’t need to; Ravenwing was still trembling a little, but he was taking soft, deep breaths and the trembles were steadying out. Snowpaw, dead asleep beside him, rolled a little as his paws twitched and leaned against his mentor’s haunch, eliciting a quiet sigh from Ravenwing. He straightened up even more, waiting for the young cats to gather before starting.

“I know it’s hard right now,” he said once they had all settled. “We’re in a strange place because our home burned and there are dogs loose across all the territories. I’m sure you all feel no better than kittypets, stuck in a house with nothing to do.”

His green eyes darted to Fireheart at this. Fireheart waved his tail, dismissing the kittypet comment, and Ravenwing continued.

“You know, a long, long time ago, all of the Clans were in a similar position.” Some of the kits tilted their heads, while the apprentices’ eyes shone. Evidently, they knew where this was going. “Once, there were monsters much worse than some dogs that hunted cats—hulking, many-clawed beasts of stone and earth, so big that moss and grass and sometimes young trees could grow on their pelts: Titans. Our Mother wiped out the largest and most dangerous of them before she created us and our homes, but some of the smaller ones hid carefully and waited for her to fall asleep before they advanced upon us. These little Titans weren’t really little at all—the smallest were as large as a car, like the one over there—” Ravenwing nodded to the strange, rusty car in the corner of the Barn. “And some were twice that size. Believe it or not, they were strong enough to fight the Three, who were very young and inexperienced at the time. Three gods versus a swarm of Titans is no joke, and the Three were often overwhelmed. When they could, Titans tramped through fields and forests, killing what they could catch. They didn’t need to eat us, but they hated life that came from the Mother, and they wanted revenge for all of their kind that Mirra slew. We could do nothing but hide in our camps or in badger setts, shaking with fear and pleading for the Mother to wake up and save us.”

The kits huddled into each other a little, Cloudkit especially looking a little frightened. Brightpaw tapped his tail with hers and he settled a bit.

“In a way, she did, just through a conduit.” Ravenwing’s voice lightened and warmed. “In the beginning of the Clans, there was a beautiful calico who would come to be known as Mernatha*. Though she was irreverent and loved nothing more than pranking her fellow cats, she was born with bravery and cunning and perhaps less caution than she should have had.”

At the name of this molly, the kits perked up, their fluffy little tails dancing. Brackenpaw and Brightpaw looked at each other excitedly, and even Thornpaw’s face brightened.

“And she had a magic power no one else did,” Ravenwing said. “Can you tell me what that power is?”

Ashkit sat up fast enough to nearly jump to his feet. “She can turn into petals!”

“That’s right.” Ravenwing nodded. “That’s why her markings always dance around her fur like the wind moves them; they’re waiting to turn back into petals and fly through the air.”

Fireheart watched the apprentices and kits radiate excitement, feeling a bit of it himself. He had never really gotten to hear a Mernatha story—mostly kits and apprentices were told them regularly, which was admittedly frustrating, since everyone would mention her name with some context he was missing and then not elaborate. He hardly even knew what she really looked like, or any of her major tales. Goldenflower and Ravenwing had separately promised to tell him some, only for a distraction or work to show up and have everyone forget the promise. This felt like a long time coming.  

Brackenpaw spoke up. “Is she really from RiverClan?”

“Well, some say so,” Ravenwing replied. “Everyone likes to say she came from their own Clan, of course. But I’m sure she was from RiverClan. She certainly acts like one of them.

“Anyway, Mernatha made great use of this power to soar in the sky and get a bird’s-eye-view of our homes. She so often saw cats being torn apart or chased by Titans, and it broke her heart that her fellow cats were suffering so. But how to solve the problem? What could one little cat hope to do against creatures that large?

“But Mernatha is not a fool, and she loves her tricks. She paid close attention to the Titans and noticed something important: they avoided Mirra where she slept. To experiment, she called upon her good friend, Theful, the spirit of wind and weather, and told him to send the wind through the territories from the Mother. Just as he did, she sliced open a gash on Mirra’s massive paw, and the scent of her blood was blown on moorland and through the forest. The Titans smelled it and, knowing the scent of godly blood well, were frightened and scattered, leaving the territories in peace for several nights.

“Mernatha knows a good opportunity when she sees it, and she humbly called upon the crow-mother, Thlainra**, and requested the help of her infinite flock for her plan. Thlainra saw immediately what Mernatha aimed to do, warning her through her crows that the Three would be angry. Mernatha has never been afraid of angering anyone—”

“She’d be well afraid of angering Thlainra,” Yellowfang croaked suddenly, close by on a haybale.

Ravenwing twitched his whiskers and nodded to her. “Well, we would all be.”

Yellowfang stuck out her jaw with satisfaction and fell silent again.

Ravenwing continued. “Mernatha’s not afraid of angering anyone (except Thlainra), so she took the crows that volunteered for such a task and went to the Mother herself, instructing the crows to gather moss and bundles of grass and anything that could carry liquid and follow her.

“When she got to the Mother’s wounded paw, she opened up the gash even more, until blood flowed like a river.” Brightpaw opened her mouth and Ravenwing shook his head. “No one agrees on what color her blood was. Some say it WAS water, others that it shone and reflected a rainbow of light, others yet black as the night. It could be anything, even in RiverClan.”

Brightpaw closed her mouth again. Ravenwing turned back to the rest of his listeners.

“Whatever it looked like, the crows got to work. They soaked up the flowing blood with their moss and grass and little bits of carrying things, and they flew to each border of the territories. All along each border, they painted the ground and trees and bushes with that blood, thickly layered so that even rain and snow could not wash it away. As soon as the blood touched these surfaces, it sank into them, even rocks, and became invisible to the mortal eye.

“Just as the last bit of land had been covered, the Titans grew angry again and returned to the territories. But they discovered, to their outrage, that the scent of the Mother was everywhere. In the trees, in the earth, even the river smelled of her.” Ravenwing’s voice intensified. “And they were afraid again, and did not dare to cross these borders of blood. With a nudge from Mernatha, Theful shook the clouds and produced a deep, vast roar of thunder. The Titans heard this and, afraid that the Mother had awoken again, fled from the territories as fast as they could go, escaping to lands of hills as high as the sky, or meadows lower than a tree’s roots can sink. The territories have never seen them again, and to this night, they don’t dare to return.”

Ravenwing paused for breath and the kittens whispered to each other, eyes huge. Bramblekit looked to the warrior and murmured something.

“Sorry?” Ravenwing asked.

“Um…” Bramblekit raised his voice, and it wobbled nervously. “Did… did the Three get angry? Like Thlainra said?”

Ravenwing’s eyes creased. “Well, that’s the next part. The Clans celebrated their freedom and safety with the very first Gathering, where every cat—elder to kit—came together to rejoice and relax in the open of Fourtrees’ clearing, where no Titan could get them. Mernatha received many cheers and speeches in her honor, and she was quite pleased with herself.

“But suddenly, the full moon was joined in the sky by the blazing sun, and the sky went black and red. Cats cowered in terror as a light gleamed in the center of the clearing. When the light dimmed, before Mernatha stood Horoa and Suriin: Horoa’s golden pelt shining in the sunlight, his smokey mane covering his remaining eye so as not to blind their followers, and Suriin’s spots of moonlight glowing coldly as her single eye glared down at Mernatha. And even though he could not be seen, Rokhar’s presence was heavy in the air.

“Mernatha bowed gracefully to them, saying, ‘Well, my Lords and Lady, what a blessing to have you here with us tonight! I was hoping you’d join the party.’

“Suriin did not humor her. She bared her snow-white teeth. ‘You arrogant, heretical creature of flowers. Look at what you’ve done to our Mother.’

“‘Look indeed,’ Mernatha said smoothly. ‘I would say that it’s better to smell what I’ve done.’

“Horoa growled, ‘We smell it just fine. How dare you slash open your creator’s paws, wound her, and spread her blood around? And worse yet, you have Thlainra helping you! How could you do this?’

“Mernatha made a shocked face. ‘Why, Endless Watcher and Pathcarver, hear yourselves! I’ve done your job all on my own!’”

Ashkit stared at Ravenwing with an open mouth. “She didn’t talk like that to the Three!”

“She did,” Ravenwing said, amused. “And they were quite angry. The sky grew hot and stormy, night and red clouds slashing through each other. Suriin’s eye blazed like her brother’s, and Horoa himself was moments from shining his remaining eye to blind Mernatha.

“But the calico was not frightened—or if she was, she was going a very good job of hiding it. She simply purred, ‘I speak facts. Do you see any Titans around you? Have any of these cats been ripped to shreds and left to rot here on this gloriously clear ground? You did what you could to save us—and I applaud you, truly—but we required help you couldn’t provide. I simply took matters into my own paws.’ She lifted her head to the sky and raised her voice. ‘Mirra, Mother of us all, I beg you, if I have angered you by taking your blood, please strike me down now. Send lightning to blast me, fire to burn me, rain to drown me! Crush me with your wounded paw! Answer your children’s anger however you so choose!’

“Of course, there was no reaction. The Mother slept on, the only sound coming from her breathing through her open mouth that you apprentices have ventured into, and as will you kits in the future. The Three waited, irritated, but there was no cry for punishment, and Mernatha stood before them, entirely unruffled.

“‘Well, there we are, then,’ she said brightly. ‘I suppose saving the Clans was enough to clean my record of any wrongdoings, wasn’t it? Now, would you care for some prey? My dear friends have caught some delicious rabbits and fish…’

“The Three did not respond to her. Instead, there was another flash of light, and they were gone. The sky smoothed out back into its usual dark, starry self.” Ravenwing’s whiskers twitched. “Though for the rest of the night, Mernatha could feel glaring eyes on her back from above, and perhaps they never really stopped glaring at her. Or perhaps they did. It depends on what prank she just pulled on them. Either way, the Clans were saved, and Mernatha became our greatest hero. To this night, she wanders the Clans’ borders, ensuring that the Mother’s blood has retained its grip on our lands and no Titans will dare to come near us again.” Ravenwing shut his eyes. “And that’s the end, as I’ve heard it, and as you’ve heard it now.”

The kits squeaked their applause, and the apprentices called wordlessly in approval, a good number of the warriors and queens adding in their voices, Fireheart and Greystripe especially. Ravenwing took in a breath, shaking again, but his eyes were shining and he was very obviously fighting not to beam at the reaction.

Patchpelt, I hope you heard that, Fireheart thought, getting up. You’d be really proud of him right now.

Fireheart joined up with Greystripe and Ravenwing as the Barn lit up with conversation about the story (and several mentions of Ravenwing’s bravery). He bumped his head on Ravenwing’s skinny shoulder.

“That was awesome,” he said delightedly. “Does Mernatha have all the best stories?”

“I’d say so,” Greystripe said, mimicking Fireheart and nearly knocking poor Ravenwing over. “But they’re more awesome how Ravenwing tells it. You should’ve been called -throat, bud!”

“Heh…” Ravenwing’s head lowered sheepishly. “I wasn’t really happy to talk at all when I was an apprentice. Maybe that’s why Snowpaw’s so easy for me…” He glanced down, and then chuffed. “Look at him.”

Fireheart did, and chuffed himself. Through all the noise and story, Snowpaw was still dead asleep, his eyes shut with blissful ignorance.

*Mernatha: a portmanteau of several words – “mern” (amusement/merriment), “therna” (leaves or petals from a tree), and “ahah” (to land silently on one’s feet from a high fall). The literal translation is “laughing petals on foot”, transcribed into English as “Petalfall”.

**Thlainra: literally “thousand-crow”. Proper plural should be Thlainral, but the singular version stuck better in historical Clan culture thanks to the character herself being a singular being.

[maatryoshkaa]

merry christmas, kiss my a** | lee minho [teaser]

✒︎ in which both you and minho get dumped by your partners on christmas eve, run into each other on christmas day, and begin to find yourselves grudgingly confronting all the reasons that made you enemies in the first place.

ryu says: i can explain the title—i wrote out the plot while listening to “merry christmas, kiss my ass” by all time low 🤡

genre: enemies to lovers, college!au, holiday!au, fluff, drama, romcom, all that good stuff--and a pinch of angst if you move your bang to read it again. 

tags/warnings: fratboy!minho is your typical playboy asshole, perfect student!reader is all business and no-nonsense, mild profanity, mentions of drugs/marijuana/alcohol and addiction, unsafe frat parties (never let go of your drinks, guys), slightly (?) suggestive, but more chaotic than anything, some unhealthy relationships, reader and minho have bad blood, a long history paved with misunderstandings, and lots of unpacking to do.

length of excerpt: 1.6k

With the remnants of a ruthless migraine still wrenching your skull, you pried your eyes open. A weak groan left your dry lips, muffled by a mouthful of fabric. As you came to—brain feeling like jelly sloshing around in your head—you realised you were lying nearly face-down on a queen-sized bed, white comforters tangled around your very sore body. Bright sunlight was filtering in from a window somewhere, and you vaguely registered a green velvet couch sitting in the corner. Frowning, you tried to roll onto your side—and came face-to-face with the yellow eyes of a ginger cat.

You didn’t own a cat. Or a green couch, for that matter. Blinking in confused unison with the feline, you looked around the room—just as the bathroom door swung open, and a very naked Minho stepped out from the wisps of steam.

You screamed, scrambling back on the bed, and grabbed for the first solid object your hands could find—a rusted candelabra on the nightstand. Brandishing it at Minho in horror, you stammered, “Did I—did you—did we—”

Minho looked just as bewildered as you, one hand shooting up as if in surrender. With a yowl, the ginger cat leapt onto the green couch, but neither of you spared it a glance. Minho’s other hand, you realised, was gripping the towel wrapped around his waist as if his life depended on it. Okay, so he wasn’t naked—thank heavens—but that did nothing to stop the sour panic steadily rising in your throat. His gesture sent a vague memory rippling through your muddled mind. That’s right. Last night—the Christmas party at Changbin’s fraternity. You had bumped into Minho, just your rotten luck—the boy you’d despised since high school, and under the mistletoe, to boot. Your mind flashed back to how you’d furiously chugged the drink a frat boy had handed you to fill in the awkwardness, and had desperately tried to eject yourself from the conversation.

Then police sirens had sounded throughout the frat house, students scrambling like cockroaches and hurriedly hiding their marijuana—and that was the last thing you remembered before you had blacked out entirely.

You turned back towards Minho, one hand clamped over your eyes and the other around the candelabra. Two more cats had slinked out from under the bed—a tabby, and another ginger—and were joining the first one in watching the commotion. You put two and two together, voice growing shrill. “Did you—drug my drink, Lee Minho?”

He sputtered, and you could almost imagine his eyes bugging out. “Did I—” he raked a hand through his wet hair, composing himself. “I thought you took something—you were out cold the second you finished your drink.”

Fragments of the night before were slowly returning to you, and with increasing dread you recalled the solo cup you had taken without looking twice, the frat boy who had winked at you with a greasy smile.

“I think you got roofied, princess,” came Minho’s voice, surprisingly gentle.

“Don’t call me princess,” you snapped back automatically, but grudgingly lowered the candelabra. Cautious, you peered through your fingers, and immediately regretted it when you were met with Minho’s shit-eating smirk agaain.

“Not gonna lie, it took me by surprise. Since when did you become a party girl, showing up to Changbin’s parties?” He reached back into the bathroom, ruffling his damp hair with a smaller towel. “Here I was, thinking you’ve changed.”

“Yeah, well, you clearly haven’t,” you shot back coldly, counting off your fingers with a biting laugh. “Treating people like your personal toys or stepping stones. Messing around with multiple girls a night. Drinking like there’s no tomorrow.” 

If your words stung Minho, he certainly didn’t show it—only raising his eyebrows in that way that had infuriated you for as long as you’d known. The typical Lee Minho look of nonchalant contempt, spiked with a shot of amusement to give the impression that he didn’t give a single damn. You hadn’t run into him since—well, since that incident back in high school, and the memories his mere expressions could still rouse made your skin crawl.

Minho watched you curiously—sheets still wrapped around you like makeshift battle armour, your hand wielding the candelabra he’d thrifted from a garage sale, Rapunzel-style—and he had to fight the genuine smile tugging at his sneer. His chest felt...funny, fluttery, even, and not in the gut-wrenching, hangover way he had grown so used to. He almost wished it was, because this new feeling made it seem as though the ground had suddenly been ripped out from under his feet, and that terrified him.

The party. Some snitch had called the cops on them, and that had promptly shut the party down. The flood of panicked students evacuating had shoved Minho flush against the wall, and you flush against his chest. When he hadn’t felt you shoving him away immediately, Minho had almost felt his heart swell with a strange, terrifying shred of hope—until, upon closer look, he had noticed that your entire body had gone limp, glass empty and eyes fluttering shut. 

Panicking, Minho had carried you out of the house, clawing out of the sea of elbows and overheated limbs until he had reached the main road. Mind racing, he had fished his phone from his pocket and called the only mutual acquaintance the two of you had—your boyfriend.

But when Minho had explained what had happened—hey, uh, your girlfriend’s out cold at Changbin’s party, so you might want to come pick her up—Taehyun had scoffed, a harsh bark of laughter that had made Minho’s ears hurt. 

“Yeah? The hell’s it to me? That bitch’s your problem now.”

Before Minho could choke out a surprised reply, Taehyun had hung up. 

Trouble in paradise? He had thought to himself amusedly, before remembering his own situation. Then, the fact that he had no idea where you lived, and he couldn’t very well leave you, unconscious, out on the street. In the end, he had brought you to his last resort—his apartment. 

Carefully stepping over the trail of shattered ornaments his ex-girlfriend had left behind during their fight, Minho had lowered you onto the couch—then, with a second thought and a deep sigh, he’d lifted you onto the bed, tucking the white comforter over your slack body. Sipping a hangover concoction, he’d stood over your sleeping figure contemplatively, a mix of bemusement and worry churning in his gut, before deciding he was probably being mildly creepy and collapsing for the night on the velvet couch. 

“Look,” Minho began, shaking his head as though clearing his thoughts and turning his attention back on you, “I know what you’re probably thinking, but I—we—didn’t—do anything. You were out cold last night.”

Hands shaking, you peeled back the covers—and the smallest sigh of relief left your tightened chest when you saw that you were still wearing the same jeans and top as last night—albeit creased, stained, and reeking of marijuana and booze, but completely intact. The next moment, though, a wave of anxiety washed over you and you clutched the sheets closer, fingers trembling. Someone had still slipped something into your drink at that party. And if the party hadn’t come to a screeching halt—no, you realised, with an inward groan of frustration, if your sworn enemy hadn’t been there, there was no telling how much worse things could have gone. 

The thought made you shudder, panicked tears pricking at your sore eyes. Damn it ll. Here you were, sitting in Lee Minho’s bed, of all people—about to cry in front of him while he watched. Your humiliation—a belated Christmas present for him, no doubt. 

But when you glanced at his face, you were startled at the expression on his face. It was unfamiliar—not exactly condescending, or vicious, or even mildly smug. His lips—rosy from the hot shower—were pressed together slightly, eyebrows almost knitting together in a frown. 

Maybe he was holding back laughter?

Minho’s eyes had caught the way your lips had begun to tremble as you curled in on yourself, and had instinctively moved forward before freezing. What could he do? Give you a hug? He was sure he would end up with a candlestick in his eye if he tried. Comfort you? The words seemed to dissolve to sand on his tongue. He cursed himself silently. Words and actions came so easily with all the other girls—endless sweet talk and flirting, until he had them wrapped around his finger. With you—even after all these years—he was left frozen, mind blank, and only that damned feeling in his chest.

“She’s not yours,” came Changbin’s voice from the previous night, ringing in his ears.

“I know,” he had replied. But why did acknowledging it feel like ripping a Band-Aid off of a nearly-healed wound? Like he had reopened the scar, along with all its pain once again? 

Maybe it was because after all these years, Minho still clung onto the hope that you would hear him out, just once.

Gesturing helplessly, he found himself offering the only sort of comfort he seemed to know how to. “Do you want—uh...some wine? The fridge’s empty, and maybe it’ll calm your nerves a bit.” He tilted his head when you didn’t reply, trying to get a glimpse of your face. “Do we need wine?”

Forgetting momentarily that he was nearly naked, you lifted a withering, exasperated gaze at him, getting an eyeful of his bare chest before yelping and burying your face in the covers again. “No. You know what—I need wine—you need to put some damn pants on.”

You could hear his devilish grin return to his voice then, even through the covers. “But life is so freeing without them.”

“Pants. On. Now.”

to be continued

[allsassnoclass]

63 is always a fun one

hello dear anon! I hope you like this! i just ask that everyone suspends their disbelief a little and pretends that 5sos live in a place where it gets cold

cashton: routine kisses where the other person presents their cheek/forehead for the hello/goodbye kiss without even looking up from what they're doing

Ashton wakes up freezing.

It's the depths of winter, and they're in a cold patch right now, but there's no reason for the house to be this cold. He nestles further under the covers, drifting closer to Calum, wrapping a cold hand around his waist, hoping not to wake up him up with the change in temperature between their skin.

Something must be wrong with their heater. Ashton almost always wakes up fighting to get out of the covers, on the verge of overheating after being in a cocoon of warmth all night, but there's none of that today. He wants to grab a fluffy sweater and drape another blanket over the bed, but he wants to stay safe from the cold and chill that's going to attack him the moment he sits up even more.

Calum shifts a little, curling into himself. Ashton is more comfortable with the cold than he is; neither of them are particularly whiny when it comes to a little chill, but Ashton is the one who consistently takes ice baths and is willing to run around in the snow barefoot. He's going to be upset when he eventually wakes up, and Ashton doesn't want that. He hates when Calum is miserable.

Ashton gives himself three more seconds to lay in bed feeling sorry for himself, then leans over to kiss Calum's cheek like he does every morning. He slips out from under the covers, wincing at the chill, immediately grabbing his fluffy robe. The fabric itself is cold to the touch, but he puts it on anyway, hoping that after a few minutes his body heat will warm it.

Duke watches him the whole time, curled up tightly like a donut in his dog bed, dark eyes following Ashton's movements. He clicks his tongue at him, coaxing the dog up and out of the room so Ashton can get him breakfast and let him outside. He carefully shuts the door behind them, wanting to keep as much warmth in the room with Calum as possible now that he knows the hallway is just as bad.

On his way to get coffee started, he pulls out his phone and starts looking up numbers of people who can repair their furnace.

-/-

Calum wakes up lonely. He swipes a hand across Ashton's side of the bed, the sheets even colder than usual without him. He sighs, wrapping the covers around himself more, but it doesn't make him feel snug and cozy like usual. He sighs again, finally opening his eyes, and takes in the empty room.

Well, empty except for the space heater plugged in the corner, one that they've used in the basement before but that he thought was packed away. The door is closed, which is odd because they usually leave it cracked in case Duke wants to come in and out, but that makes sense if Ashton is trying to keep heat in.

Something must be wrong with the furnace.

Calum grits his teeth and braces himself for the cold, then flings off the covers like he's ripping off a band-aid. He immediately goes to the closet to find a hoodie, passing his hands in front of the heater as to get a blast of warm air. It's not the best space heater in the world, but it's better than nothing, and Calum's nose feels like it's going to freeze off if he doesn't get warm soon.

He cautiously leaves the bedroom, closing the door behind him again in case he needs to return to the safe haven of warmth. The hallway is a few degrees colder, and Calum heads straight for the kitchen in the hopes that a hot cup of coffee will help him warm up.

He finds Ashton sitting at the breakfast bar, robe sinched tightly around his waist, plate of toast half-eaten in front of him, and eyes fixed on his phone.

"Morning, sweetheart," Calum says, leaning down to kiss his cheek. Ashton automatically tips his head to make it easier for him, still scrolling on his phone.

"Morning," he says. "Sorry about the cold. I checked the furnace, and it looks like there's something wrong with the sensor, but the guy I called can't get here until early afternoon. I don't think it's something I can mess around with and fix."

Calum grimaces, getting down his favorite mug and heading to the coffee pot.

"Did you call the guys to cancel rehearsal? One of us needs to be here for the furnace guy, and we're at the point where it's not helpful practicing with just three of us," he asks.

"Yeah, I left a message," Ashton says, finally putting down his phone. "Accidental day off."

Calum hums. They both enjoy rehearsals enough that it rarely feels like work, but Calum doesn't allow himself to feel disappointed at missing today. They'll add another practice in later, and maybe Calum will be able to convince Ashton to relax a bit today, even though they both know that there are a few household chores they've been putting off.

"I'm going to go shower," Ashton says, standing. "Want the rest of my toast?"

Calum nods and sits in his vacated spot, warm mug of coffee in his hand. Ashton stands behind him for a moment, hands heavy on his shoulders, then kisses the top of his head before he leaves the room.

-/-

After his shower, Ashton lets Calum convince him to cuddle on the couch and watch a few movies they've been meaning to see for a while. He knows that they need to do laundry, and his snare keeps rattling more than it should and needs some maintenance, but Ashton is always helpless when Calum has his heart set on something, and being bundled in blankets with him and Duke sounds like a much better idea than tramping around the rest of the house in the cold. They bring out the space heater from the bedroom and another, smaller one that he managed to find, but the open floorplan means that the heat doesn't stay contained. Still, it's warm enough with blankets around them and Calum pressed close, fingers tapping along to the songs form Encanto on Ashton's thigh.

The doorbell startles Duke from his nap, sending him yipping. Ashton fights to get out from under their blanket nest while Calum fights to grab him and keep him quiet, but he still presses a kiss to Calum's cheek before he leaves the room, Calum pausing for a split second in the pursuit of his dog to let it happen.

The kisses started before the dating did. Everyone else in the band is cuddly and tactile, but Calum is the one who likes kisses the best. He'd plant one on their cheeks after a good show or on foreheads when he said goodnight at the end of a long day, and Ashton always relished those moments. He's glad that they've only increased since they started dating, exchanging easy, routine pecks when one of them enters or leaves the room. Ashton likes the simple pieces of affection. He likes the little reminders of love peppered throughout his day.

Ashton takes care of the furnace guy, explaining the situation as best he can and then leaving him to work without hovering. He rejoins Calum in the living room, plopping down on the couch and stretching an arm around his shoulders. Calum's cheeks curve into a smile when Ashton kisses him again, and Ashton wouldn't mind staying cuddled together watching movies for the rest of the day, even long after the furnace gets repaired and they both warm back up.

[princessfbi]

do you have any (more) buck runs cold headcanons?

ALWAYS!

Buck has always been this way. He was the biggest snuggle bug when he was a baby and he never really grew out of it. His parents would scolded him for being too clingy but Maddie always indulged him. (Jee-Yun is a big snuggle bug too and there are a bunch of pictures of her and Buck snuggling)

It didn't matter how hot it was, Buck would always come out of the pool shivering and Maddie would meet him after the whistle blew with a sun warmed towel and a dollar to get a pretzel from the snack bar.

One of Buck's favorite things around Christmas time was when Maddie would take him sledding. They would both be shivering but when they got home, Maddie would warm him up with mac and cheese and they'd bundle themselves under her quilt to look up from beneath the tree to pretend the Christmas lights where little fairies.

When Buck turned about thirteen, his anxiety started to really present itself and the coldness would come creeping in especially on his neck and fingers. When he gets anxious that's why he rubs his hands on his thighs because he's trying to self sooth and get some warmth back in his hands.

He got into the habit of keeping a hoodie in his locker at school but he always usually walked in wearing one anyway.

He started to become the hoodie guy though so a girl on the cheerleading squad taught him about ✨ layering✨

One of things Buck took when he left home was one of Maddie's old blankets because one part of it was for the warmth and another part is the comfort the texture brings because I'm very much in the "Buck finds comfort in certain textures" Camp as well.

Buck doesn't mind sleeping without a shirt on but he needs something under his arm. That way when he inevitably gets cold he can curl up under the blanket.

Part of the appeal to sleeping around for Buck was also the fact that the bed felt less cold when there was someone else in it with him.

Buck has a habit of burrowing which can be quite humorous since he's so big. Chimney and Hen spotted him the first couple of 24 hr shifts literally burrowed into the mattress with the pillow half out from under him and the blankets tucked over his head.

I say blankets plural because Buck keeps a couple of spare ones in his cubby in the bunk room.

Buck couldn't get warm after the plane crash rescue for hours and his muscles were sore too. He slept in his heaviest sweats that night.

Anytime they come in from a call where it's raining or they end up wet, everyone knows to give Buck a few more minutes in the showers because otherwise he'll be shivering for the rest of the day.

Eddie freaked out the first time he felt how cold Buck's feet were when he was helping stretch his leg after a pretty brutal PT appointment. Buck had to assure him that no he wasn't losing circulation many many times.

When Buck's doctor warned him about some of the side effects about the blood thinners, he'd mentioned cold but he didn't say anything about freezing! Buck felt like he was never going to be able to get warm again and he practically lived in his cabin socks.

He and Maddie get each other a pair of cabin socks for Christmas. Maddie likes the wool ones with the aloe vera infused fuzzy stuff inside while Buck likes the ones that reach his ankles.

Buck ordered three of the LAFD hoodies because for the longest time, he would freeze his ass off at the station in silence until finally Hen showed him the catalogue with all the hoodies and fleeces that were within uniform.

Buck prefers long sleeves but he pushes the sleeves up anyway. It's more of quirk than anything.

Buck gets warm especially when he works out. It's just he's not the type to get overheated and when he does, he doesn't notice it. He had to learn that his body's temperature regulation is a little off when he was building houses with a construction crew after he passed out.

Buck sent Eddie one of his hoodies after the well incident because Eddie's skin was like ice when they carried him to the ambulance and Buck knew from personal experience how cold the hospital could be. Eddie never gave that hoodie back.

Buck usually doesn't notice the cold when he's really and truly comfortable. Like if he's going to Maddie's or Bobby and Athena's he'll put on a t-shirt but anywhere new? He's probably got a sweater or a hoodie on or near his person. Preferably with a texture because again he finds comfort in texture.

Weekend Sleepover Asks

[cas-backwards-tie]

CopyCat

Five Hargreeves x Reader

Request: prompts “don’t be afraid, trust me.” and  i’ll be here, no matter what.” from the misc sentences. Can Five and the reader have a moment like Luther and Allison did in S2E10? Where the reader tries to use her powers to fight Lila but she uses them against her and she almost dies but Five helps her out like Luther did with Allison. Basically a loving and protective Five and make it fluffy af please thank you!

Words: 2,310

Warnings: Cursing, Near-Death Experiences, Fighting, Anxiety, Angst.

A/N: For @alexa135​ . I really hope you enjoy this! I decided to give the reader water-based powers. OH! I forgot but this should go without saying considering the request but there will be spoilers for the season 2 finale!

“What the hell happened? What was that?” Luther asks with a groan as Five helps him up.

“She must have redirected Vanya’s energy wave,” Five thinks aloud, trying to piece the puzzle together in his mind while simultaneously remaining present in the fight.

“Yeah, I know, but how?” He voices the question they’re all bound to have once this damned fight is over. The broken fireplace shifts, bricks beginning to topple. Five springs into action.

“Luther watch out!” He yells, pushing him out of the way, tons of bricks falling on top of Five and completely burying him.

“Five!” The scream comes from the tattered house, causing your eyes to shoot open.

After Lila had sent an energy wave blasting in your direction, it sent you flying across the farm. Luckily Harlan’s ability had caused it to snow, and snow is made of water, therefore allowing you to collect snow and form it into a landing pad cushy enough to prevent major injury.

The cold wind creates an ominous whistle in the air as you struggle to push yourself out of the snowy cocoon. Once you’re on your feet, it’s a race against time. Is it? Oh, God. The thoughts in the back of your mind run rampant as your heart pounds against your chest, heart already aching at the dreadful thought: Five is dead.

Just as you arrive at the surprisingly still intact front door of the house, you throw it open only for your eyes to widen. Luther’s thrown through the wall of the house by none other than Lila, something that causes alarm. Not only was she able to create an energy wave, but she has super-strength too? Before you can react, she’s stepping through the hole and out of the house.

Allison’s voice is enough to make your heart clench as your own worry only amplifies for Five. You thought he was in here, but looking around, you don’t see him anywhere. “Five?” It comes out quietly at first as if you’re afraid of receiving no answer. “Five?” You call louder, still searching for him at the entrance.

The sound of talking then fighting outside doesn’t concern you, having faith in Five’s siblings, yet, the longer it goes on and you don’t find Five, you decide it might be best to help contain Lila before resuming your search. If he really is dead… he wouldn’t want to lose anyone else.

Stepping over the rubble and pile of bricks, you finally hear Allison use her power. Relief floods you as you know she’s powerful. “I heard a rumor-”

“-you stopped breathing,” Lila returns the rumor, somehow mirroring her power. As instantly as relief flooded you, it ebbs away, replaced instead with cold and heavy terror. Three members are missing and Diego is crying for help; that’s four down and only three standing, including you.

You don’t suspect Lila’s noticed you yet, with Luther’s groveling and the sick way Lila watches, but you know what to do. This is an advantage, one of Five’s favorites in fact: the element of surprise. With the outstretch of your hands, you concentrate all your energy on boiling the water inside her body, essentially melting her from the inside out. She slowly turns in your direction and you circle around her. Lila stuffs her hands in her pockets.

“You,” it’s an accusatory tone. A chuckle leaves Lila’s lips, and she tilts her head, a wicked smile upon her lips. “You’re little shit of a boyfriend’s dead, you know?” She jokes, no sign of pain from her despite the red glow around your hands. “He’s dead, though really, you should be thanking me, you know? That murdering prick.”

“Shut up! Don’t you dare speak about him like that,” you threaten, jaw clenching as you take a step toward her, closer toward the barn. She leads you further and further away, a game of cat and mouse perhaps, a game of chicken. You’re not scared. You’ll do whatever it takes to avenge Five.

“Oh yeah? Or what?” She laughs maniacally, her eyes widening in a way only a psychopath’s would.

That’s when you notice it. You wince. There’s a twinge of pain at your side and your attention is drawn to her fists as she pulls them out of her pockets and holds them up, they’re glowing red just like yours. “You gonna bite me? Nice try, little girl, but I think you’re the only one who’ll be absolutely on fire tonight!”

Next comes the headache, the familiar feeling of dehydration. It’s the first stage. Blood rushes through your veins, pounding as you glare up at her with a look that Five’s said on many occasions could kill. You hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath, but when you let it out as a loud sigh, you wobble on your feet. The previous posture you’d had slumps as you struggle to stay standing. Another telltale sign is sweat; loss of fluids. Sweat drips down your forehead, underneath your clothes, your palms struggling to stay clenched in a fist as your eyebrows furrow in her direction.

“You’re not winning this, Lila. I won’t let you get away with this!” Something bubbles inside you. It feels somewhat like gas or an upset stomach, but you know what it really is… it’s your insides boiling; melting; overheating.

“We’ll see about that,” the smug look on her face does nothing but irk you. You have absolutely no idea what Diego saw in her.

One of Luther’s cries for Allison causes you to refocus. There’s no chance in hell you’ll let Lila live through this. She’s not going to get away with killing another one of the Hargreeves siblings today! A yell tears through you as you tap into your energy, your power. Directing it toward her, the glow of your hands amplifies into a bright red. It’s working.

Lila winces and folds in half, holding her stomach. “You little- conniving- she-devil!” Whipping her head up to glare at you through her bangs, Lila grunts as her fists glow brighter. She’s using more of her power!

“Let her go! It’s me you want, isn’t it?” Five’s voice distracts you. Hope lights up in your eyes and butterflies swirl through your tummy- wait… no. That’s not it. The momentary distraction was enough for her. A spike of heat throws you off your feet and you collapse onto the ground, clutching at your stomach. 

Releasing a string of groans as you writhe on the ground, you know this is the worst of it. Soon it will be over and the pain will become so much that it will numb. By then... there’s no coming back from it. That’s what happens to all your victims.

“Why won’t you just stay dead?” Lila asks rhetorically, blowing her bangs out of her face with a roll of her eyes as she relaxes from her one-on-one with you. “I can fix that for you,” she threatens. Stalking across the snow, a scream causes everyone to freeze.

“LILA!” It’s Diego. Running toward her, he stops just a few feet behind her. Though it might be stupid to take her eyes off of Five, she knows she’s ready for anything, so she takes a split-second to look at Diego. “You’ve gotta be a desperate, pathetic, wimp to go after those kids! If you do this… you’re only fooling yourself. You know who the enemy is here, and it’s not us! It’s not Five,” he warns, grabbing her attention.

The woman does a double-take, looking between the young couple and Diego. She knows Five’s not going anywhere, he’d never leave you to die alone, so she’s got some time to spare. After all, she wants to take her time killing him. Might as well save him for last. Running after Diego, the man panics and turns, fleeing into the barn.

Five couldn't care less about the snow as he throws himself onto the ground, hurriedly pulling you closer. Wait, is this the smart thing to do? He knows your abilities; he knows you’d been boiling each other alive, she’d mirrored you, Lila had been a copycat. It’s an idea, not founded on proof or fact as this situation has never happened before, but it’s the only logical solution he can think of. It has to work! The old man calls your name a few times, his hand coming up to cup your cheek as he forces you to look at him. His hands pin you down on the ground to prevent you from writhing too much. That won’t help anything. Surely touch isn’t good as his body-heat will only worsen your state. Right now you need to be still, you need cold, you need ice. He needs your attention for a second though, long enough to relay his plan. “Look at me, look at me. You’re not dying today. You’re not dying here, I am not letting that happen.”

Tears well up in your eyes as you’d been duped. You feel like an idiot. Even if Five wasn’t dead, now you’re the one who’s dying. Go figure, right? Staring up at the cloudy grey sky, you can’t help but feel like this is all so wrong. This isn’t the way things were supposed to go! This isn’t how you wanted to die.

Five doesn’t allow you to think like that. His face blocks your vision as his icy-blue eyes search your own, worry, and concern obvious within them. “Don’t be afraid, trust me. I know that you’re tired. I know, but you need to use your powers again. You need to freeze yourself. Use the snow, use the ice. Use the water in my body for all I care, you have to live! I am not losing you today, and I’ll be here, no matter what!” Sliding his hand into your own, he squeezes your hand for a moment, giving you a worried smile. His eyebrows are slightly pinched, creating worry-lines on his forehead as he hovers over you.

It shouldn’t be that simple. It can’t… and you don’t have enough energy to do that, but you don’t know how to tell Five. He’d lose his mind. If it were any other time he’d lecture you on how their family is not a family of quitters, and he, himself, is certainly not a quitter. The whisper of your name causes you to open your eyes again. Five closes the space between you to place a tender kiss on your lips. “Please… I can’t lose you too.”

With a shaky inhale, you let go of his hand and place it on your stomach. A dim blue glow surrounding your hand as you begin to freeze yourself. You have to try. A lightbulb goes off in Five’s head. He gathers the surrounding snow in his hands, beginning to pile it on top of you, almost like burying someone in the sand, only in snow. This has to work. It has to; he keeps telling himself on repeat. It drives him crazy to sit there watching, not able to do anything other than cover you in snow. He hates the snow, and any other time he’d curse it, but right now he’s grateful to the universe. The faint sound of fighting in the barn worries him, and he contemplates the idea of helping his siblings… but he can’t leave you. What if you die? He’d never forgive himself if he wasn’t here and you were alone taking your last breath.

His heart pounds in his chest and he takes shaky breaths as he freezes his ass off. It’s cold as fuck out here, though he knows you don’t feel it right now. Underneath the snow he’d placed atop your stomach he spots a brighter blue glow, which must mean it’s working, right?! It has to be. It has to be. Five scoots a little closer as he watches with anticipation. Your eyes flutter closed again, lips void of color from dehydration. Calling your name, you don’t answer.

The beating of your heart slows down, you can feel it within you. Things don’t hurt anymore, and you’re thankful for that. It’s just as you’d predicted, though, and the only thing you regret is not being able to tell Five that you love him. He watches as your chest slows, your breathing becoming more spaced out. Anger, resentment, regret, dread, and horror all fill his gut as he slowly processes what’s happening. Five isn’t a crier, but as he stares stoically at your body, he feels tears start to well up in his eyes. With a quiet whimper, he hangs his head, bangs falling in his face as he sniffles, unable to process this. Whispering your name, as if it were a question, as if he’s expecting an answer, Five’s eyes widen as yours flutter open. “Oh- thank the forces that be!” A heavy sigh escapes him as he hurriedly pushes the snow off of you and helps you sit up. Snowflakes stick to your hair, which elicits a genuine smile from Five. He raises his hand to brush your hair behind your ear and run it down your hair before cupping your cheek.

Both of you open your mouths to speak at the same time, though you beat him to it. “I love you, Five.”

“I love you too,” he whispers in response, never once taking his eyes off yours. The hand is soft on your cheek and it makes you utterly happy that you’re both alive. Noticing him leaning in, you close the space between you with a soft and yet desperate kiss. He thought he’d lost you; you thought you’d lost him. Neither of those things were true. A rumbling of the ground causes both of you to pull away, realization dawning on you that the fight isn’t over yet.

[mariecuttlefish]

Cooling Off [3k words, MariexAgent 3]

It's been a while since I had new writing to post! This is a belated piece for @receding-tides, mainly starring their Agent 3, Faye, and Marie (though Callie and another of their OCs are there as well).

External links: [Google Docs], [AO3]

Warnings: None. Appropriate for teenage audiences.

Description: When Marie has a hard time handling the summer heat, Faye steps in to offer some comfort.

---

The sky overhead was as blue and bright as the air was thick and soupy. Midsummer heat bore down persistently, each brief respite of shade subdued by an ever-present humidity that clung to exposed skin and made ink drip from tentacles. What little breeze did manage to cut through was slow and dampened by the squiff.

Marie clung to her parasol, fighting her tired arms to keep it aloft and get what little shelter from the sunlight she could. The weather forecast playing on the lobby television before she left the hotel that morning had warned of high temperatures, and she'd prepared as best she could to deal with it, but for all her efforts to stay cool she'd still sharply underestimated how draining it would be to spend the day mostly outside. Several hours of milling between storefronts had left her exhausted and struggling to keep pace. At least the group she was with was small — just her, Callie, and their respective partners — so she didn't have to worry about crowding on top of it.

"Alright, you guys! The concert is starting soon, let's head over!" Her cousin, on the other hand, seemed no less energetic than she had been that morning, bounding forward without a care. Marie couldn't understand how she was still so upbeat, especially with her near-black tentacles that had to be tied up just to keep her from tripping on them. Surely those things were unbearable heat sinks, right?

"Hopefully there'll be some place to sit," Jake said from Callie's side. He was making a noticeable effort to keep his balance as Callie swung his hand to and fro in her own, and if Marie only possessed the energy to be amused she probably would have had a hard time containing her laughter at the sight. As things stood, she could only think about how much she agreed with his sentiment. "My legs are killing me... couldn't we have shown up to the mall later if we're just here for the show at the boardwalk?"

Callie raspberried that notion. "It's the Seaspray Galleria, of course we're not just here for the concert!" She shook the collection of overly decorative bags in her other hand for emphasis. "This is basically the biggest mall outside of Inkopolis! No way could we spend a week in the area and not go on a shopping spree! Right, Mar?"

"Mmh." Marie offered a noncommittal shrug, trying (but probably failing) to seem a bit less exhausted as the couple turned to look at her. She wasn't the biggest on shopping even in a good mood — trying to find places for everything back at the apartment was too much of a bother — but this mall was big and fancy enough to include a couple of niche health food stores, so she'd gotten to enjoy the rare indulgence of stocking up on snacks she would actually be able to eat. She just wished they would've put a roof over the place instead of pursuing the 'open-air market' aesthetic.

Whatever Marie's opinions of the mall were, though, her acting was about as weak right now as she imagined. Immediately Callie slowed down, a look of concern in her eyes. "Wait, are you doing okay? You look super out of it…"

There was exactly the thing she'd hoped to avoid: people noticing she wasn't feeling well. Marie was too used to being the more sensitive half of the Squid Sisters, the one who avoided any big events their manager didn't push her to attend and who was more often than not the cause for them having to leave things early. Seeing how excited Callie was to visit this place and watch one of their shared favorite bands perform on the boardwalk outside the mall had made her determined to stick it out and get through the entire day, and now that it was getting into the evening and the sun was starting to set she was almost there. The last thing she wanted was to disappoint her cousin by forcing them all to head back to the hotel early. Sure, the alternative meant a probably-miserable hour of noise and confusion when she was already feeling lightheaded from the temperature, but it wasn't anything she hadn't put up with for her own performances before; she could tolerate it to make her cousin happy.

Then followed another wave of embarrassment as she felt a gentle hand come to rest on her back. "Are you sure you don't need to go back to the hotel?" Faye asked softly, aiming her words at Marie alone rather than the whole of the group. Of course her girlfriend had picked up on how tired Marie was first, and had asked about it a couple of times whenever Callie and Jake weren't paying attention, but when Marie had insisted she was fine Faye had let the topic go. Marie knew she wasn't going to be so lax about it now that the others had confirmed she wasn't just misinterpreting things.

"'m fine," Marie answered with a meek wave of her hand. The words didn't quite want to come out, but they would have to deal with it.

"Just... tired."

"Marie—" Callie took a step forward but stopped as Faye raised a hand, gesturing for her to give some space.

"We have some time until the concert thing, right? Let's sit down for a bit in the shade," Faye said, carefully guiding Marie to a bench a short distance away. As the two sat down Faye offered a bottle of water, which Marie traded for her parasol without protest. Callie and Jake followed close behind, Jake taking the opposite end of the bench to rest his legs while Callie leaned up against the wall beside; both looked worried — more worried than Marie wanted them to be — but seemed at least to take the hint that crowding around her wouldn't help.

For a while they sat there, Faye fiddling with the parasol to figure out how best to block the sunlight while Marie tried to find a balance between the desire to curl up in her girlfriend's arms and the knowledge that they were still very much in a public space. Several minutes passed without many words spoken until, at last, the awkward quiet was broken by Callie pushing off of the wall and gesturing toward the restrooms across the nearby courtyard. "I'm gonna go use the bathroom real quick, should I grab some more water on my way back?"

"I got a couple more bottles, don't worry," Faye replied. As Callie headed off across the courtyard, her attention returned to Marie. "How're you feeling? It's okay to go back to the hotel if you need to."

Marie frowned and clung to her girlfriend's arm. "Callie wants to see the concert..." she answered reluctantly. Her voice felt scratchy and gross even though she was halfway through the bottle of water at this point; maybe, she decided, she would just avoid talking after all.

Faye leaned her head against Marie's. "Is that why you've been saying you're fine all this time, so Callie doesn't have to leave early?" Marie didn't want to answer that, but she knew her silence gave it away. "Love, you and I can go back just the two of us. I'm sure Callie and Jake'll be fine on their own for another hour or two.”

That... somehow hadn't occurred to Marie. The prospect of going back to the hotel to be alone with Faye was already an easy winner in her book, and if she could have that and not have to make Callie miss out on something at the same time... Of course, she would still miss out on a band she adored, but that wasn’t as much a concern; she’d already seen the Chirpy Chips play at least a dozen times before, and in more pleasant weather. Hesitantly, she nodded her head, and Faye wrapped an arm around her shoulder to give a comforting hug.

"We'll head back, then." Faye motioned for Jake's attention (which wasn't hard to get when he had already been keeping an eye on Marie to begin with) and nodded in the direction Callie had left in. "Can you let her know once she's out of the bathroom?"

Jake nodded. "Can do. Text one of us once you're there so we know you made it back alright?"

"Yeah," Faye agreed. "And make sure you both take care, too. I know you're alright with the heat but I have a feeling Callie's gonna start feeling it soon herself." Taking one of the remaining bottles of water she'd brought with her, she handed it to him.

"Yeah, I'll keep an eye out! I hope you feel better soon, Marie." Marie managed a polite nod in place of saying anything, hoping Jake would interpret that as a sufficient gesture of appreciation.

"Thanks, Jake," Faye added, and moments later she and Marie were away, navigating back through the scattered crowd of shoppers to make their way to the bus stop.

* * * * *

Air conditioning was simultaneously the best and worst thing after a day like this. On one hand, the heavy, artificial breeze that billowed through the bus to the hotel was exactly what Marie needed to stop her from feeling like she might melt at any moment; on the other, it did little to negate the humidity, instead simply blowing the moisture around until Marie was coated in an invisible layer of grime. By the time she and Faye walked back into the hotel and felt the sweet, freezing relief of expensive "we-don't-want-a-single-customer-complaining" central air, Marie felt substantially more comfortable emotionally but also five degrees of unpleasant physically.

They wasted no time lingering in the lobby. It felt even more awkward to be overheated and out of it in a neat and quiet place like that than it had sitting outside in a public mall, and with the privacy of their room so near Marie could at least muster up the energy to carry herself into the elevator and down the hallway. No sooner was the door opened than Marie was finding her way to bed, lazily tossing aside the mask and sunglasses she'd worn to hide herself from any paparazzi and letting down her tentacles as she flopped face-down into the welcoming embrace of an overly-plush comforter.

Behind her she heard the sounds of Faye settling in as well, setting aside the few bags the two of them had brought from the mall (and putting the snacks Marie had bought into the room's minifridge; Marie made a mental note to give her a kiss for that later) before quietly sitting down on the bed beside Marie. Fingers brushed the back of her neck, coming up to soothingly stroke her mantle, and Marie slowly rolled onto her side so she could look up at her. "Hey there," Faye said, her voice even more tender now that they were alone.

"Mmm... hey," Marie murmured, her eyes drooping with exhaustion. Wordlessly she lifted her head up and scooted over to rest it in Faye's lap, curling up by her side.

Faye looked down at her with a gentle smile. Carefully she brushed Marie's longest tentacles to the side, keeping them out of her face. "How are you feeling?"

"Kinda dumb…" Marie wasn't eager to admit it. She averted her eyes, which unfortunately left her with little to look at but the front of Faye's shirt. In the back of her mind, she silently cursed the fact that feeling bad could make eye contact with her own girlfriend so hard.

"Marie," Faye started, not a trace of frustration behind the word. A hand slid under Marie's jaw to guide her to look back upward; Marie settled for the compromise of staring at Faye's cheek. "It's okay. It's good to tell people when you aren't feeling well."

"Says you," Marie murmured. "You're like, the queen of not asking for help." As soon as the words left her mouth she worried they'd come out meaner than she meant, but Faye just smirked.

"Takes one to know one, I guess." Pulling a pillow over from the end of the bed to place behind her, Faye laid back, tousling Marie's tentacles. It was a comfortable feeling, and Marie couldn't help but purr as she nuzzled her head into Faye's hand.

"I guess you're right," she said quietly. "Sorry I was so resistant."

Faye shook her head. "You don't have to apologize, it's okay. I'm just glad you said something before it got too bad." Stretching, she held her arms out, gesturing as if she was waiting for a hug. "Now c'mere, dear."

Marie smiled and scooted up to meet the embrace. She wrapped her arms tightly around Faye, half-laying on top of her, and nestled her head into the crook of Faye's neck. A small part of her worried that the accumulated grime from being out in the heat would make cuddling less appealing, but before she had the chance to dwell on that thought Faye was hugging her closer with one arm wrapped around her shoulders, leaning down to plant a kiss at the top of her head. Another long purr built up in her chest and Faye chuckled, idly running a thumb along her shoulder.

The pair got comfortable like that, relaxing together for a moment before Faye reached into her pocket suddenly. "Oh—" she started, then pulled out her phone and began tapping something out with the hand that wasn't occupied holding Marie.

"Hmm?" Marie glanced up through one half-open eye, her face buried against Faye's skin. Her girlfriend was comfortable, and despite how they'd spent the day still had a faint pleasant smell about her; now that they were alone together and able to relax under proper air conditioning, it was taking all of Marie's concentration not to fall asleep where she was. "Looking something up?" she mumbled.

"Just texting Jake," Faye answered. "Almost forgot to let him know we made it back to the hotel."

Marie hummed. "Ask him how Callie's doing? Probably pretty well, if the Chips have started playing."

Faye smiled at that. "I'll ask." She typed out a few more words before at last hitting send, then plopped her arm onto the bed beside her with the phone held just loosely enough that she'd notice it vibrate if a text came in. She didn't need to wait long; hardly a minute later the phone buzzed with a pair of incoming messages, and Faye picked it up again to read them.

"Says Callie's doing fine, but he noticed the heat was starting to get to her too so they found a bench in the shade for the concert. Callie won't stop dancing in her seat. Oh, and Jake says hello."

Marie snorted. That sounded like her cousin, for sure. "Hiii, Jake," she murmured lightheartedly. Satisfied to know things were fine back at the mall, she stopped resisting the exhaustion in her eyelids and let them droop shut, instantly feeling the urge to fall asleep take over her. The passive discomfort of overheating was still there — Marie made a mental note to take a long bath as soon as she had the energy to get up — but she was cozy, her girlfriend was soft, and the slow rise and fall of Faye's chest as she breathed in and out held the perfect rhythm to lull a very tired squid to sleep…

When Marie opened her eyes again, it was hard to tell how much time had passed. The dim evening light filtering in through the curtained windows was gone, leaving most of the hotel room dark save for the single light turned on at the entrance. Faye was in the same place she had been (predictably so, considering how thoroughly Marie was curled around her), watching what looked like an old soap opera at minimum volume on the TV that she'd somehow managed to turn on. When she felt Marie stirring, she turned her head to look at her and smiled. "Good morning, sleepyhead."

Marie started to speak, but the difficulty of forming words was compounded by the grog of waking up at odd hours. Instead she just rubbed her cheek against Faye's neck and purred affectionately, content to stay comfortable in her love's arms. Faye smiled and brought her hand to rest against the small of Marie's back, gently tugging the back of her shirt up to rub soothing circles against her skin. The contact made Marie shiver as her nerves woke up, and she clung tighter to Faye, wanting nothing more than to stay there for as long as she could.

"You fell asleep for about an hour and a half," Faye cooed, guessing the question Marie had tried to ask. "Callie and Jake got back to the hotel a little bit ago. They said the concert was great, Callie wishes you could've been there for it.”

Marie gave a little nod, turning her head away from Faye to clear her throat. When she spoke her voice came out raspy and inconsistent, but she could wait a little longer to get up for a drink of water. "Did they say if they were going to sleep yet?" Even if she still wasn't feeling well, a part of her wanted to poke into their room and verify that she was, in fact, alive and not a pile of melted ink on the floor.

Faye shrugged. "Nah, but knowing the two of them they've probably just been in their room making out since they got back."

"Gross." Marie grimaced, giving her shoulder a playful nudge. At least that meant one less potential reason to stop cuddling with her own girlfriend.

"What? It's not like we wouldn't be doing the same if you were feeling a bit better," Faye teased. Marie made a point of pouting at that remark, but she knew she couldn't dispute it. Heck, the only thing stopping her from kissing Faye right now was the knowledge that moving her head to do so would make it impossible to get back into the perfect comfort spot she had settled into. She had no choice but to concede, taking Faye's free hand in her own and lacing their fingers together.

The two lay there for a long while, disturbed only by the barely-audible sound of fictional couples getting into melodramatic arguments on the television screen. Occasionally Faye would turn her attention to the show when (Marie presumed) things started to get interesting, and the tiny little laughs that escaped her at the far-too-corny jokes only made Marie want to kiss her even more. The urge to fall back to sleep filled her again but this time she fought it, not wanting to miss out on the feeling of being with someone who she loved so dearly.

At last Marie's need for hydration overpowered the desire to cuddle and she slowly sat up, planting her palms against the bedsheet to stay steady. As she stretched and stood up to walk to the mini-fridge Faye stood up as well, joining her and wrapping both arms around her belly for a gentle hug from behind. "I love you, Marie."

"I love you too, Faye," Marie responded with a tired smile. "Thank you for taking care of me. You're the most wonderful girlfriend a squid could ask for."

"Right back at you." Faye leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the back of Marie's neck, drawing one last purr from her before Faye let go of her with a giggle. "Now that you're up and moving, your wonderful girlfriend is gonna go run a bath. Both of us could stand to clean up and cool off."

Marie nodded. "You wanna go first or should I?" she asked absentmindedly, digging past all the snacks she'd bought to find the chilled water bottles at the back of the fridge.

"Either or," Faye answered as she ducked into the bathroom, and Marie thought she heard a quieter 'Both works too' tucked in under the sound of the bath's faucet starting up. She smiled, closing the fridge and returning to sit on the edge of the bed to take a long sip of water. Only one thought sat in her mind:

I'm so glad she's in my life.

[littlegiantposts]

movie night

pairing: todoroki x f!reader

warning: strong language probably. possible anime/manga spoilers! grammar mistakes :( I suck at writing

summary: It’s not that Y/n didn’t want friends, it’s just people always found her intimidating

a/n: this is completely self-indulgent lol sorry about that, so like yeah I’m gonna be saying y/n, but also i am deriving her personality, attitude, looks from a character that I’ve sort of made up in my head haha. also idk if this is like a headcanon, imagine, or like a scenaro....so sorry. And like, sort of a side note, I love making main characters that are like sorta op so y/n’s quirk and story is sorta insane, but you guys dont really have to worry about it too much because its not really in this so....yeah, i guess its just some context. I wrote this while listening to a playlist I made, titled, “ur a badass hero with class 1-a” on spotify so if ppl wanna hear it, I will post a link to it lol. OH and class 1-a are in their second year! That’s a lot, sorry! But, I hope you enjoy!

y/n’s quirk (if ur curious): controlling the 4 elements (aang from the last airbender vibe lmao); but she also got a companion named koda (think of Moro-no-kimi from Princess Mononoke for the look) 

Y/n was never good at making friends. It’s not like she didn’t try, because she did. When she was a little kid, living on Catalina Island, she made a lot of attempts to make friends with fellow children in her pre-school and middle school. It just seemed that they wanted nothing to do with her, talking bad about her behind her back or acting as if she just didn’t exist. 

It started to get exhausting for Y/n to keep trying and ending up always failing. So, when enrolling in the top hero school, UA, Y/n thought that maybe, just maybe, things would be different. 

Nonetheless, it’s not like she had absolutely no one. She had Koda! Her best friend in the whole wide world, well her only friend, which was her pet wolf. However, Koda doesn’t like being called a “pet”, let’s stick with her companion. They are quite the inseparable duo. 

Y/n looked down at Koda from her desk who was lulling herself to sleep on the floor as Present Mic was teaching an English lesson. Y/n wished she too can sleep at this moment, “It wouldn’t hurt if I just closed my eyes for just a couple minutes.” Y/n thought. Oh, she was wrong though.

“Alright! We are going take a short break since we need to get our new textbooks,” Present Mic’s voice rang through her ears with all his elongation and passion, “Y/n and Todoroki! What about you two go get the books from the library!” Y/n would have jolted at the mention of her face, but she was honestly too tired to do so. 

She nodded her head, got up from her desk, and looked at Koda if he was going to follow her. Of course, he perked up at the mention of her name and was going with her. A small smile was now on Y/n’s lips. Y/n was glad that she knew she can depend on Koda, always in her corner.

As she pushed her chair away from her desk, getting up and walking towards the door, she didn’t realize that most of the class was either looking at her or the half and half boy, for he had to endure the trip with the enigma that is Y/n. 

The class just doesn’t know Y/n that well. She was one of the new students this year, along with Shinso. However, they at least knew of Shinso from last year. Y/n was a  brand-spanking new addition to the class. Not to mention, her introduction to the class was nothing short of intimidating.

Aizawa knew Y/n had a lot of strengths. In fact, he used her skills as a type of learning lesson for the class. Not to mention, he completely singled her out during the “lesson” as he instructed the class that Y/n will have a bell that is tied around her belt. All they had to do was get the bell. Y/n, being the competitive person she was, didn’t back down at this challenge. Safe to say, no one was able to get the bell that day.

Y/n sighed at the memory. “Maybe, if you had some chill, you would be able to get a friend, Y/n” a voice in her head said, causing Y/n’s shoulders to shrink and her hands to be stuffed into her pockets. (Yes, she has pockets with her uniform. Yes, she’s still wearing the school uniform skirt. She sowed pockets into them for this very habit.) 

“Uh, hey wait up.” a deeper voice called, already identifying who it is.

Y/n turned to right, looking at Koda for a brief second. From far away, one would think he was just grimacing, but as Y/n was closer, she can see he was very close to full-on growling at the sound of his voice.

Koda doesn’t really like Todoroki and Y/n always found it funny. Koda found everyone else real entertaining. As much as Koda was a wolf, he really was a people’s person. If Y/n didn’t know any better, it seemed Koda had a better relationship with her classmates than she actually did.

Y/n adopted a tired smile as she reacted to Koda’s growling at Shoto. She then looked behind her, seeing Todoroki jog lightly towards her. Her small smile soon faded away.

“Even if you try again to be a friend, you know that people will always end up fearing you.” Y/n honestly wanted to bang her head against a wall because this annoying voice was truly the bane of her existence. 

Y/n stopped in her tracks. Koda made eye-contact with her, almost telepathically asking her, “Why are you stopping for him?!”.

“I may be aloof, but I have to at least be polite.” Y/n told her wolf companion. Koda only let out a breathe of frustration as he also stopped as well.

Todoroki soon caught up to the duo and was on Y/n’s left side. And the three began their trek to the school library.

There was some silence.

For Todoroki, it was so awkward. “Why don’t you say something to her?” he asks himself, “Or are you going to let another opportunity slip?”

You see, Shoto Todoroki admired Y/n. She was incredibly skilled with her quirk. She was confident, but not arrogant. She was an innovator, while still accepting old principles. She was naturally smart, but always open to learning. To him, she was so balanced. He couldn’t help himself as the admiration started to soon feel like a crush on the dark haired girl.

For Y/n, she didn’t think anything of the silence. In fact, she was grateful for the silence. More silence, means less time for talking. Less chance of Y/n making a fool out of herself.

“You seem more tired than usual. Trained a lot yesterday, I presume?” And Todoroki broke the silence that Y/n was trying to insist.

“Yeah, trying out a new technique with my water.”

Y/n was surprised.

She really could have been more blunt with her answer.

Theoretically, all she really had to respond with was a “yeah”, but she decided to add that last part.

Why? Why did she feel inclined to go into more detail? Now, Y/n was confused. 

“That’s cool.” Todoroki wanted to hit himself in the head. “That’s all you got to say? What a conversation this is” Shoto mentally sighs. He feels like his heart is going to burst at how fast its going. 

“I’m actually trying to freeze it, but that turns out to be harder than expected,” Y/n almost slapped her hand on her mouth.

Why is she going into more detail? This doesn’t make sense. She’s been quite blunt lately when people try to talk to her, so what gives?

Is it Todoroki, himself? “Maybe he put a spell on me or something.” Y/n didn’t think the “icy-hot bastard” would dabble in witchcraft, but things were just not adding up in Y/n’s mind. All these thoughts woke Y/n right up, ridding herself of her tiredness. 

As for Todoroki, his mind was going into overdrive. “She’s having trouble with freezing water? She must know that this is my specialty. Is this her way of spending time with me? Does this mean the feelings I have for her are mutual? Perhaps, we can train together and I can help her with freezing.” The mere thought of spending time with Y/n outside of class made his cheeks warm up. 

He was an absolute love-struck fool for Y/n. 

“Oh, we’re here.” Y/n stated the obvious as they stand in front of the school’s library, halting Shoto’s mental mumbling, which almost resembled one of Midoryia’s ever-present babbling. 

Shoto Todoroki immediately shot his arm forward to open the door for Y/n, but Y/n was thinking the same thing and they reached for the same handle.

Their hands touch. 

And Todoroki thinks he can die happy now. Y/n’s hand is so soft. Much to his dismay, Y/n immediately drew her hand back as if his hand was scalding hot water. 

Y/n mumbled a quick “sorry” and places her hand on the other handle as there are two doors to the library, she opens it and immediately walks through it as Koda follows in tow. Koda dawns an absolute confused look as he didn’t know what the hell that interaction was about.

The actual task of getting the books aren’t that hard. In fact, it was an easy and quick task.

So, why is this causing Y/n’s mind and heart feeling like they are overheating.

As they walk back to the classroom with stacks of textbooks, Y/n thought, “Okay, there’s no way in hell that he will try to talk to me again, especially after that awkward incident. Now, let’s breakdown why the actual hell you acted that way, Y/n.” She mentally scolded herself like she was a child. 

Todoroki, as always, had a different plan and decided to continue the conversation, “You know, if you need help with freezing water, I can always help you since that is part of my quirk.”

Y/n has officially short-circuited.

He is voluntarily asking? Voluntarily. Asking?

Asking if Y/n wanted to train together?

This has never happened before, and she doesn’t know how to respond. “I would like that. I typically train in the morning and sometimes after school” is what Y/n felt like saying. It is as if her mind and mouth were working against each other.

However, Y/n’s thoughts were cut short as she heard the chatter of some of her fellow classmates. They three of them were very close to their classroom as their door to the room was wide open. 

“Hey guys, if we’re having a movie night tonight, do you think we should invite Y/n?”

It was Midoryia who asked the question. Y/n, Shoto, and Koda stopped dead in their tracks at the mention of her name. Shoto and Koda looked at Y/n with a worried expression. For her own good, she probably shouldn’t be listening, but she couldn’t help but be curious of her classmates’ plan in regards to her.

“It’s not that we don’t want her there. It’s just that, who is up for asking her?”

Silence. No one responded to the question.

Koda notices how Y/n’s grip on the textbooks tightened. Shoto noticed how your head was now titled downward, hiding your face.

“She’s just so intimidating. And not to mention that training exercise we did when we first met her. She’s sort of scary, to be honest.”

“Scary. You’re scary, Y/n. Terrifying.” She couldn’t help but repeat her classmates’ thought of her. She was just torturing herself at this point. No point in dwelling on first impressions, but as this is affecting her current relationship, or lack thereof, with her classmates, she couldn’t help it.

“Y/n-” Todoroki tries to interject before Y/n gets the wrong idea.

But, it’s too late.

“No, it’s fine. Thanks for the offer though, Todoroki.” Y/n’s words were slow. As much as her brain was going a million miles per hour, her mouth was evidently slower as her breathing was heavier.

She wanted to disappear, or at least get swallowed by the ground. She kept her head down as she strode into the classroom. Her classmates being oblivious to Y/n’s knowledge of what they truly think of her, paying no attention to her.

Shoto was basically frozen in place, next to the door, but he gained composure and walked in the class as well, a couple seconds after. Y/n quickly placed her books on the front desk where Present Mic sat behind of, she sat back in her seat that was in the back of the class.

Y/n watched how Shoto was still standing in front of the classroom as he was stopped by his classmates. Now, they were just chatting, probably talking about the upcoming movie night.

Y/n felt jealousy bubble up inside her. She wished she can chat like how Shoto was effortlessly talking away to his classmates. Or how Midoryia stopped him with such ease to talk about a social event.

Y/n yearned for some friendly interaction. That’s what she wanted when coming to UA. 

She wanted to be normal. As normal as she could be. A normal teenager.

“Things don’t always go according to plan, huh?” Y/n pouted and placed her head on her desk and just waited patiently till the school day was over.

Koda worriedly looked at Y/n. “She’s going to want to train after this. And I bet she’s going to push herself harder because of today.” Koda knew Y/n very well. Knew her like the back of his hand, well, paw. 

And, Koda was right. Y/n was in gym gamma, completely exhausted. Sweat covered her body as her muscles were screaming at her take a break. Her labored breathe continued as her body was trying its best to keep up.

Y/n was frustrated. “Why? Why am I like this?” she kept repeating like a mantra.

“I want to be normal. Why can’t I be like them?”

“Why?”

“You’re a monster. It’s actually quite simple.”

Y/n threw a punch with her fist encased in water, and it wasn’t until after that punch was thrown, she realized that there was now an evident hole in the thick, solid concrete wall. 

Y/n fell to her knees. Koda hurriedly made his way to her, making sure she didn’t do anything too stupid. Once Koda was close, she was doing something unexpected. 

She was crying. 

Hot streams, cascading down her face. She started to hiccup, her breathing erratic. “A-am I scary to you, Koda?” her voice was so small.

Koda nudged his way in between her legs and nestled his head into her neck. Y/n, full on sobbing now, wraps her arms around Koda and her cries are muffled by his fur. Wailing and self-deprecating questions can be faintly heard from her if anyone were to enter the gym.

A couple minutes passed. Y/n’a breathing returned to a calm rhythm.

“Thanks, Koda. I needed that,” Y/n sniffles, “C’mon let’s go make dinner, I’ll whip you up something special for putting up with me today.” Koda’s tail immediately began to wag at the thought of Y/n’s cooking.

Y/n was an independent person. She likes doing things on her own as much as can. She doesn’t eat the food from the school cafeteria, instead, she opts for making her and Koda’s meals from the kitchen that is provided to them in their dormitory. And indeed, she made a delicious dinner for both of them. 

Now, the hard part. Because of how long her training took, showering, and making dinner, Y/n knew that her classmates were in the common space already, probably preparing to have their movie night. And, she had to pass them. It was a short distance, short walk, Y/n was trying to reassure herself. Just walk straight towards to the elevator and you’re safe.

Y/n takes a deep breathe and walks out of the kitchen. The chatter of her classmates emerges to her ears, but as she walks towards the elevator, the chatter dies down.

“Oh no.” Y/n’s eyes widened in fear. “Way to go on ruining the mood, Y/n.”

Thankfully, the elevator was quick and the doors slide open, making an easy escape for Y/n and Koda. She let out a breathe she didn’t even realize she was holding in as the doors slid shut. Y/n looks at Koda, who was already looking at her, “It’s better this way, anyway” Y/n didn’t know if she was telling Koda that, or herself.

On the other side of the elevator’s doors, her classmates collectively let out a sigh, “Well that was another chance we wasted.” Kaminari was the first to break the awkward silence.

“Tch. Like any of you have the guts to actually ask her.” Bakugo chimed in.

“Oh please, Bakugo, I know she intimidates you, too.” Mina fired back.

“Whatever.”

“She heard you guys.” Todoroki suddenly talked. Everyone casted their attention to him, “Earlier today, I mean. She heard you guys when you were talking about inviting her to movie night.” 

The once light-hearted atmosphere in the room was now tilted with guilt.

“She heard all that?” Midoryia incredulously asked, only imagining what you would be feeling because of their words.

“She must feel terrible.” Ochaco openly voiced her thoughts.

“She probably hates us.” Kirishima adds in.

“She means well, I promise. I think we just need to give her a chance.” Todoroki tries to reason with his classmates.

“First, we need to apologize.” Midoryia proposes as he looks among his classmates. His classmates collectively nod their heads in agreement

“You’re right. Well, good luck Midoryia.” Kaminari pats his back as encouragement. Everyone else either gives an encouraging smile or a thumbs up.

“Ha?! What?! You guys already decided that I’m going to be the one to apologize?” Izuku was flailing his arm around and was checking everyone else’s reaction.

“Well, yes. It’s your idea and you are one of the most apologetic people here.” Iida explained to an overthinking Midoryia.

After regaining composure, he realized that this was probably the best option, “Okay, I’ll, I’ll go now.”

Midoryia makes his way to Y/n’s dorm room. He was nervous. He only had very limited interactions with Y/n. So, he really didn’t know what to expect. Before he knew it, he was before your door.

On the other side, Y/n was chowing down on her food. She took a swig of her water, “So, how’s the food? I tried a new technique on roasting the veggies.” Y/n babbled on for a bit, but she realized that Koda’s plate was hardly touched. Her gaze landed on Koda who was sitting on her bed with a very obvious frown, staring at the door. Y/n immediately knew why.

“Hey, if you wanna go hangout with them, I can push the buttons on the elevator for you-”

Koda was irritated at how difficult Y/n was being, she can just ask them if she can join. It was simple. Koda used his mouth to latch on to Y/n’s sleeve and started to drag her to her dorm’s door. 

“H-hey Koda! Not cool, man! You know, I can’t go down there.” Y/n tugs her sleeve away from Koda. 

Koda turned to his last resort. He did his signature pout. 

“Oh, please. You know that stopped working on me awhile ago. Besides, we can have our own movie night, right?” Y/n tried to reason, but her reasoning just felt sad.

Before Y/n could step away from her dorm’s door, she heard a knock. The two quickly tuned their heads at the door as if something miraculous just happened.

Y/n took one step toward the door. 

“It’s Midoryia.” Koda began to wag his tail, “don’t get your hopes up too quickly.”

Y/n opened the door only a slit for her head to poke out, “Oh, hi Midoryia. Is something wrong?” she asks.

“U-um, no nothings wrong.” he responds as nerves start to take over and he doesn’t continue on.

“Okay.” With that, Y/n closed her door. Koda wanted to scratch his eyes out. This was her chance! For someone who was the top student in her class, she was so stupid. “He didn’t want anything. Sorry to disappoint, Koda-” another knock interrupted her.

She looked at the door, “It’s still Midoryia.” Koda rolled his eyes.

Y/n went to to open the door, again, only opening a bit, “Yes, Midoryia? You sure something isn’t wrong?”

“Uh, well I was wondering if we can talk for a bit.”

“Oh, yeah sure.” Y/n stepped out of her door, and shutting it.

However, Koda was right on her trail, but was shut out by the now closed door. He pouts at the door. And how holds his ear to the door, interested in the conversation that has yet to come.

“So, what’s up?” Y/n asked the green-haired boy.

“I, we, as a class, wanted to apologize for our words today.” Midoryia spoke in a remorseful and quiet tone.

Y/n was taken back. “So, they know that I heard what they were saying? Must have been Todoroki’s doing.”

“Look, it’s fine. I know I’m intimidating-“

“But it’s not fine. We shouldn’t have treated or talked about you that way.”

Y/n was stunned at his words. He took that as a sign to continue, “and we were hoping, if you’d be okay if we start over and become friends.”

Y/n remained cautious with her walls, “You know, friendship isn’t really a perquisite for this course.”

“Of course, I know that. We all do, but it doesn’t hurt to have them, right?”

Y/n felt like tearing up. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to put her trust in that last statement of his. 

“I’ll be be down in 5 minutes,” Y/n stated rather blandly, but it didn’t matter to Midoryia.

“Great! See ya!” He waved and started to head back to the elevator, before he pressed the button, Y/n called him once more,

“Midoryia?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“No problem.” and nods his head. He couldn’t be more thrilled that this will all work out.

As for Y/n, she opened her door to her dorm, and closing it as she stepped inside.

As soon as she was in the comfort of her own room, she broke into her happy dance. Her fists clenched, eyes shut, shoulders scrunched, jumping in the air, squeals make their way pass her lips, with the biggest smile on her face

Koda felt a wave of relief of wash over him. He was glad that she was finally experiencing acceptance. 

After the moment passes, Y/n sighs and looks at Koda, ruffling his fur on the top of his head.

“Well, shall we?” Y/n said in an extravagant manner as she opened her door and bowed.

Koda, playing along, held his head high and strutted out. Y/n let out a light-hearted laugh and they made their way down, together.

Once Y/n actually made it to the common room, all of her classmates were looking at her, stopping their conversations as well. The confidence that Y/n help was long gone, feeling now awkward yet again.

However, the silence didn’t last too long as the class enveloped her in boisterous apologies, hugs, and pats on the back. 

To say Y/n was overwhelmed was understatement. She had never been around these many people, giving attention towards her. It was new territory she had yet to cross. 

“Guys, you should probably let her breathe.”

That was Todoroki. Y/n pried her eyes away from Mina who was asking what conditioner she uses, and looked at Shoto. Y/n mouthed a “thank you” and he simply nodded.

The class went back to their seats, muttering apologies again for getting in her personal space.

Now, Y/n faced yet another problem:

Where is she going to sit?!

She kept standing where she stood for a good couple seconds, scanning the area for any good spots.

However, there was actually only one spot open. And, it just happen to be next to Todoroki. 

Y/n mentally prepared herself and started her path towards him. Of course, Shoto knew this. He was the one who made sure he saved a seat right next to him just for this occasion.

But things don’t always go according to plan, right?

Rightly so, right before Y/n could take the unaccompanied seat, Denki was coming back from the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn, plopping right down on the seat.

“Oh, hey Y/n! I’m glad you made it! You want some popcorn?”

“No, I’m good, thanks though.” Y/n was able to play it off as she chose to sit on the floor in front of the couch, which coincidentally was in front of the seat that Shoto resided. 

Shoto was irritated. He wanted you to sit next to him. For crying out loud, that was the whole reason he had this seat open in the first place. All he does is sigh, catching Y/n’s attention.

Y/n turns back to Todoroki, sending a small smile his way, but then turning back to the screen as her fellow classmates were arguing on what to watch.

Y/n put her hand to her chest. This is weird. Why is her heart rate so high? She’s not usually like this. Maybe Todoroki did cast a spell on her.

Y/n couldn’t think about it too much as the movie began playing.

[korpuskat]

Kinktober Day 5 - Sadism -Tomura Shigaraki/Reader

[Ao3 Mirror] Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1,721 Summary: Tomura has a lot of fun hurting you. Contains: rape/noncon*; Sadism, biting, painplay, 

=====

"Beg me to stop." He rasps into your ear- and sinks his teeth into the meat of your shoulder, in and in until something hot slides down your chest.

Everything about you trembles, "Stop..."

Pain explodes over your ass- you yelp, jump beneath him- and his mouth, still wet with spit or blood rubs against the shell of your ear. "Louder." Teeth nip at the thin, sensitive skin there as his lips split into a grin, "I want everyone to hear you."

Your fingers twist into his sheets, "Stop! Please, stop! Don't-"

And his hand meets your ass again, the imprint of his palm makes your skin sting, burn with each impact- and they keep coming. Over and over until you're trying to scramble away, pressing yourself down into the bed to get any respite- but the hand at your waist keeps you near enough, keeps your hips angled back for him to continue his assault. Another hit has his bitten nails scratch you and you're gasping, whining, "Hurts, hurts, Tomura,"

And the hand at your hips twists into your hair, yanks you back- you grab at his wrist on instinct, move back with him as he pulls you up to your knees again, further until your back presses entirely to his front. Still, he does not release his grip, pulls until your head is against his shoulder, neck long and arched and exposed. His other hand gropes at your stinging, welted ass, makes you squirm back against his hard cock. "That's the point."

In an instant you're face-first in the bed again, his weight coming down on the hand on your head while he reaches past you, grabs something. The weight eases, his hand disconnecting from your hair to slide down the long line of your back- and his nails dig in, rake four perfect red lines through your skin. You hiss, arch away from his hand- and with your knees still planted, you're acutely aware of how you're presenting to him. The hand stops at the small of your back, presses there in warning to keep still- and moves again.

He parts the lips of your cunt, draws one finger from the leaking hole there down to the swollen bud of your clit. One touch has your thighs shaking, has your glad your face is buried in the blankets to hide your shame. He shuffles his hands for a moment- and something touches either side of your clit. He rubs there- and it's too firm to be his fingers, slightly cool, smooth with a bit of a hard edge and- you stiffen as the switch flips. You turn your head as far as you can to look back at him- and he meets you with that wide, terrible grin. "Wait! Wait, don't, please!"

Tomura lets out one pleased breath as you tense- and he lets the clothespin close over your swollen clit. The noise that leaves you isn't human, the raw animal instinct of pain makes you freeze, thighs shaking as every muscle in your lower body pulls taut in the simultaneous need to stop moving, to ease the pain and to get it off. Shock and agony leave tears in your eyes as you struggle to hang on.

"How's that? Too much for you?" His laugh is the only thing you can hear past your own broken gasps- and his palms rub in soothing strokes on the smooth expanse of your thighs.

"It hurts," You whimper.

"Good." Pain eclipses all other thought- until something warm is prodding at the slick between your legs. His hand is cool on your overheated, bruising rear while he holds you still. "I'm going to fuck you and you're going to feel that every second of it."

He waits for you to beg- lets the head of his cock nudge the underside of your swollen, clamped clit. The twinge of pain brings your voice back- "No, no, wait!"

His cock splits you open so hard, so fast, you don't even feel it for a long moment; the pain of the backs of your ass cheeks meeting his thin, taut abdomen, the hard lines of his hipbones is the first thing you feel. It chokes down any other words you might've had, smothers them into submission- and then he withdraws. As he pulls out, it tugs against the sensitive lips of your pussy-- and your clit. A wail rises in your throat- and the sound of Tomura's laughter pierces your ears.

He doesn't give you the luxury of building pace, of the slow ascension to decent friction, no- one hand tangles into your hair again, the other at your hip while he fucks you. With your reddened ass that smarts with each impact of his hips and your clit that throbs with each downstroke, you get no rest, no moment to catch your breath.

Tomura leans over you, his thrusts turning shallow and easy. The heat from his body warms your back, but there's no warmth in his words. "You're going to cum for me." The hand that was wrapped in your hair scratches its way down your body- and circles around until his fingertips press into the soft mound just above your pussy. "Just like this."

And he finds the hood of your aching clit, the sensitive flesh beneath throbbing with every beat of your heart and he rubs.

Pain. Pain has your back aching, breath coming in fast, unfulfilling gasps. Every motion has him tugging on that thin skin, makes the clothes pin bob between your legs. And it hurts, it hurts, and his cock is moving in you and it feels good-

it comes out of nowhere. Masked under the pain, raw sensation has driven you up and up until something uncomfortably close to pleasure rears its head. The realization makes your head spin, that you're already so close, your pussy pulsing around him. His hand on your hips pulls you back into his next thrust, drives down- and it's enough.

You clench around him- and your clit's sensitivity shoots through the roof. For one agonizing second all you can feel is that unrelenting, cruel pressure- until he's knocking it off. The removal is nearly as painful, the rush of hot blood back into the crushed nerve endings and it doesn't matter because it's stopped and you're cumming, clit throbbing in time with your pulse, counterpoint to your cunt's merciless grip on his still-moving cock-

and as soon as you can take a breath, you're screaming.

.

.

.

.

.

Dabi's seen all sorts of things in his time lurking around any space that abhors heroes- which is mostly among villains. They're not good people, but this was something else. He didn't have any delusions about Shigarki's nature- he'd tried to kill Dabi in a childish fit when they first met after all- but he hadn't expected that. Nor had anyone else, from everyone else's reactions.

Jin had half a mind to charge in there after please, stop, but Atsuhiro and Shuichi had been enough voice of reason. Maybe if it was anyone else displaying their unsavory tendencies they would've let him, but it was Shigaraki. What could they do, really? Get dusted for trying to get him to keep it in his pants or take his morbid conquests elsewhere? Atsuhiro corrals them into stepping out, to "give our esteemed leader some privacy." and even Dabi with his burnt-out taste buds can taste the derision.

Kurogiri's response is the least surprising; he sits in one corner, quiet and unconcerned with his charge's hobbies. Toga- well. He should've expected it, her obsession with people all beat up and covered in blood. Her cheeks flush pink, eyes going far-off as her lips curl up. He can't blame her- it's exactly what he's feeling. At the broken-off scream, they each excused themselves to separate rooms, probably to do the same thing.

If he were being honest it might've been the hardest Dabi's cum in weeks.

He meets Shigaraki's eyes after, while his leader trudges to the bathroom to clean himself up. They're each unconcerned with the other's presence and Dabi figures, sure, whatever. They're all wanted murderers anyway and Shigaraki knows well enough to clean up his messes- and it's certainly faster and easier than Dabi's Quirk.

What he doesn't expect, however, is the next morning, after everyone's gathered again-- Shuichi's face the only one exposed to look uncomfortable, actually-- is the voice from Shigaraki's room. The door clicks open and- everyone in the room's thoughts stutter to a stop as your shoes scuff the floor, your voice carrying through the thin walls.

"Sorry, guess I passed out." And you laugh; nobody in the main room even breathes. Had he not killed you? Why?

"You needed it." Shigaraki says.

"I really did need that." You say, a double meaning heavy on your tongue. "Thank you."

Kurogiri stands, approaches the little hallway just as you step around the corner. Your eyes go wide at the unfamiliar faces, scan across the room before looking away in shame, one hand rising to rub at the back of your neck. It draws Dabi's eye down- and the pieces begin to fit together in his head.

Everywhere above the collar of your shirt is covered in dark, unhealed bites, a perfect outline of Shigaraki's hand- sans middle finger- is imprinted in your skin in purple bruises. Even on your chin, Dabi sees it now- a pink halfmoon of what can only be teeth marks.

Shigaraki steps into the room behind you- and Dabi's seen him when he wants to kill. No, no, Shigaraki just looks bored. That had to be it- he was right about the boss being a sadist, but you. Dabi's cock is so hard it hurts, aches between his legs as you speak with Kurogiri, tell him where you want to go. A masochist able to keep up with even Shigaraki's sick fantasies? It takes every ounce of control he has not to palm himself right then and there.

"Are you gonna be on Cloud Seven tonight?" Shigaraki asks, unconcerned as Kurogiri's warp expands out.

You tap your chin, "Probably not 'till after six, but I'll see you then." You wave to Shigaraki, who shrugs and turns to go back into the dark hallway- and just like that you're gone.

=====

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[artemiseamoon]

Desire

Modern! King Harald x Tempest L’amour (black ofc) 

ft Modern Halfdan 

About: Halfdan has a special present for Haralds birthday.

Words: 2, 176

GIF credits: Peter & Jasper - mine | corset - giphy | s’mores - here 

Warnings: pining, described sexual acts, nsfw , smut I guess? a brief sex scene w/ protection 

Spellbound.

It was the only word to describe the way Harald felt. The first time he saw Tempest L’amour perform at the Velvet Room, she put her hooks in him, leaving him mesmerized ever since.

Harald bought a place in the city three weeks ago to be closer to his shop. Though he crafted the fine pieces of wood furniture three hours away, the commute to his shop from the warehouse was growing tiresome. Plus, staying at his brother's place was not ideal unless he was up for an all-nighter.

Harald never spent much time in the city until he had his place. Being able to rest his head at night 5 minutes from the shop gave him more time to explore the city and the nightlife.

In contrast to Harald putting down roots, Halfdan already had them, as he preferred the city and moved here years ago. He even opened his motorcycle shop here and was doing pretty well.

Harald knew his brother Halfdan frequented the Velvet Lounge, even slept with most of the dancers. Halfdan tried to get him to go a few times. Harald wasn’t opposed to the idea. But, running the shop, making furniture, and tending to the Orchard meant he barely had enough time to sleep, let alone enjoy himself. Still, Halfdan remained persistent, wanting his brother to have a good time and loosen up a little as he used to.

“You have to see the women there brother,” Halfdan tells him enthusiastically, a hand on his shoulder. “Trust me.”

…

Flashback to that night

The red lights flash as the first notes of the song play.

“Introducing our main feature, the one, and only Tempest L’amour!” Applause and whistles fill the room. The energy builds higher than before.

Halfdan, grinning, puts his drink down and drives an elbow into Harald's arm. “Wait until you see this one!”

Harald turns to him with an amused look on his face, “another one of yours?”

Halfdan only chuckles and looks forward, leaving him without an answer. Harald laughs and looks ahead. This was another bonus of being closer, more time with his brother.

Burlesque song

The sultry music plays as she glides across the stage, slow and sensual. The room goes quiet. Her heavy sanguine spell cast on the crowd.

Halfan came here so often, the table in the front row with the best view was his. He was treated like a King here. The closeness to the stage made it so Harald couldn’t hide his reactions.

Halfdan says something, but Harald doesn't hear it. He leans forward, his fingers falling away from the glass of whiskey on the table.

Her hips move in a smooth figure 8 as she faces the crowd, a flirtatious smile on her full red lips. Tempest continues to move as she wiggles her left glove off her hand.

“I think you’ve fallen in love brother.” Halfdan jokes, glancing at him briefly before focusing on the stage. “That is a hell of a woman.”

Harald nods. He's seduced by Tempest and the pure passion of the song. He feels overheated, antsy. He slips out of his leather jacket. When her eyes meet his, Harald freezes.

Harald shifts in his chair as Tempest shakes her hips and moves toward him. Slipping out of her skirt, she steps off the stage and stands in front of him. Halfdan claps and cheers as she throws him a quick wink and returns her focus to Harald.

Tempest smells like roses with a hint of spice. The red and black corset highlights her figure perfectly, the colors vibrant against her rich brown skin. Her heavily lined cat eyes peer into his soul. 

Tempest wraps the dress around his neck like a scarf and gently tugs. His pulse races, he can faintly hear the guys at the table behind him beg, over here!

Tempest reaches into her hair, pulling out the rose. Taking the stem between her teeth, she leans forward, palms on Harald’s thighs. Her breasts nearly spill from the corset, Harald's eyes grow wide.

Oh, how he wishes he could bury his face in them, those glorious large brown breasts! He feels like a kid in a candy shop and tries his best to hide the hardening of his cock as she dances against him, teasing him to take the rose from her.

“Take it!” Halfdan yells.

Harald chuckles and leans forward, keeping his eyes locked on hers, he opens his mouth and bites, taking the stem.  His cheek brushing against hers.

“Good boy.” Tempest purrs. 

She stands and runs her hand over his hair. Winking at Halfdan once more, she turns and returns to the stage.

Harald watches the rest of her performance in a daze. It ends too soon.

When she leaves the stage, the host returns to say goodnight. Seconds later, Haldan stands and finishes the rest of his drink.

“You wanna go backstage?” He raises his eyebrows. “You know when you can stand again.”

Harald flips him off with a smirk, “No. Go. Enjoy yourself. I have to be up at 5.”

“Pshh,” Halfdan makes a face, “live a little. Brother! Remember the adventures we had?”

“Fondly.” Harald pulls out his wallet and leaves a tip on the table on top of Halfdans. “I’m an old man now with only enough hours to sleep. Go, have fun, for both of us.”

Hafldan makes a sound and rolls his eyes. “You’ll miss Tempest. I think she likes you, and she’s picky.”

Harald smiles at the thought and slips back into his jacket. He looks around, then discreetly adjusts his cock in his pants before standing.

“If you opened your shop before noon, you’d understand.” He replies.

“Naw, I’ll do 2 tomorrow.” Halfdan shrugs, they both laugh.

Harald pats him on the back. “Goodnight Halfdan.”

Halfdan nods and watches Harald walk off. As he nears the door, one of the dancers, Kitty De Lux, wraps her arms around Halfdan. 

…

Two weeks later

As night fell on the Orchard and the drinks flowed, Harald's belly hurt from all the laughter. 

Halfdan surprised him and put together a big birthday party; their mutual biker friends were even on their best behavior. They knew better than to bust anything up, this was Harald property.

As a small group of them gather around the pit to have s’mores, which someone suggested in a drunken cheer, Halfdan pulls Harald away mid-bite.

Halfdan rests his arm across Harald's shoulders. “I hope you’re ready for my real gift.”

“You have more?” 

“Of course! Come!” Halfdan pulls him along and yells back at the group, “everyone, come!”

They walk back behind the house south of the property, a small stage is set up with some chairs. When did Halfdan have time to do this? 

Impressed, Harald shakes his head in approval. He notices the outdoor sound system as well.

“What have you done brother?” Harald shakes him.

“Wait and see, showtime in 5!”

….

Three hours later

Halfdan paid a bunch of the dancers from the Velvet Room to perform, it was glorious. The highlight of the show for Harald was Tempest, just as Halfdan knew it would be.

Harald saw her live three more times after Halfdan took him, each time leaving right after the show ended. It wasn't a lack of confidence that stopped him from talking to her.

Harald felt nervous, like he was a schoolboy all over again. It was an unfamiliar feeling, one he had not felt since he was young. That nervousness calmed as the night went on, and boldness was starting to rise up in him.

Across the way, Halfdan and their good friend Floki lounge with the dancers. By this time, most of the guests have left except for the small inner circle. Harald sees Tempest talking with another dancer before she glances back at him.

Running his hand through his hair, Harald decides to go for it. Coming to standing, he puts the empty drink down and makes his way over to her. Tempest grins, resting a hand on her hip as she waits.

As Harald comes closer, Tempest licks her lips and tilts her head to the side, “Here I was thinking I had to drag the birthday boy over here.”

“Ah, well, I’m here now.” Harald smiles and reaches for her hand, she gives it to him. 

Keeping his eyes on her, Harald bends over and kisses the back of her hand. Her skin is silky and soft against his lips.

“Halfdan told me you have a little crush on me,” She pauses, waiting until Harald is at eye level again. “But, your little visits to Velvet told me that.”

“What can I say,” still holding her hand, Harald places his other over his chest, “you are a striking woman.”

“You are pretty damn handsome yourself,” Tempest steps closer, making no attempts to take her hand away, “and if you run your hand through your hair like that one more time, I may need to take you to a dark corner and make out with you.”

Harald feels his body react to her bold words. Grinning, he runs his fingers through his hair.

…

2 hours later

Harald licks the length of her neck as his big strong hands grab at her ass. The way she moans and purrs as he thrust his hips makes him dizzy. She felt like heaven.

Gripping the back of her head, Harald pulls Tempest into a kiss, his lips covering hers, his tongue demanding her own as they breathe each other in.

The pain of her nails running down his back, the way she moves her hips over his sends him into overdrive. Harald holds her tighter, thrusting harder and deeper as she rides him.

Harald barely makes it, holding on until Tempest comes first. Only then does he allow himself to release.  Harald comes hard and fast as pleasure shoots through his body.

“Tempest - you goddess,” Harald moans against her neck as he covers it with breathy kisses, filling the condom with his seed as her warmth surrounds him. Tempest melts into his arms, drawing soothing circles on his back.

After they both catch their breath, Tempest carefully climbs off of him as he pulls out of her. She lays on her back with a loud exhale.

Smiling, Harald sits up and takes the condom off. He carefully disposing of it in the garbage can, before leaning over to kiss her shoulder.

“I’ll be right back.” He whispers.

Mmmhmm, Tempest moans in reply. She closes her eyes and lets the last waves of orgasm wash over her.

When Harald returns, he lays on his side next to her, placing a small tray between them.

“Hmm, I’m gonna have to keep you.” She sings, matching his body language.  “There was a lot of drinking tonight and not enough food. After two rounds, I could eat a little something.”

Harald plants a kiss on her her neck, her jawline, her lips. Resting a hand on the side of her face, he caresses her cheek.

“When can I see you again?” His eyes searching hers.

“Anytime you want.”

His eyes light up, “ I like that answer.”

Tempest picks up a small cupcake and holds it to his lips. Harald bites into it with a bliss-filled moan.

“Oh, eyes rolled back, damn!”

“These are heavenly. I have to get the name of this shop!” He licks his lips and opens his mouth. She pushes the rest in with a giggle.

“Well, you don’t have to look far. The chef is right here.”

His eyes grow wide, swallowing the cupcake he chews quickly so he can speak.“Wait, you made these? I hid them so no one else could eat them.”

Tempest runs her finger through the cream of one and picks up the cherry, dandling it before her lips. “Umm, so naughty! And yes, I made them. I’m not just a performer, I’m a baker too. That shop on the main street has some of my stuff.”

Tempest sucks the cherry into her mouth, eyes on Harald as he watches closely. Grinning, she pulls it out and drops it on the plate.

“Keep looking at me like that handsome and I’ll have to climb back on.”

A sexy growl leaves his lips. Harald moves the plate to the side table. He covers her body with his own, “Keep talking to me like that and round 3 will be the least of your worries. I’ll never let you leave.”

“Ohhh.” Tempest purrs, brushing her lips against his, “Is that a promise you can keep?”

Harald sucks her lower lip into his mouth and bites before letting it go. Holding himself up with one hand, the other moves over her breasts.

“I guess I’ll just have to show you how serious I am.”

The way Tempest looks at him nearly makes him hard again. Moving down her body, he leaves a trail of kisses before his head disappears between her legs...

Okay that’s all for now bb’s! I fell in love with these two and I’m 100% sure I will do a part 2 when I have time. Thanks for reading!

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[wreathedinscales]

Din parenting Ben Solo has become one of my main vibes rn

()

"Ben?"

The voice doesn't stop the earthquake, but Ben can take a few more steps before collapsing on his knees.

"Ben." Urgent. Ben doesn't want to know what he looks like right now.

"Din," he murmurs. Everything feels so. He doesn't really know. But it hurts. "Din...I need...I need help."

Din's projection blurs as he presumably sets a course. "I'm on my way. Are you in a safe place? Where's Grogu?"

The thing that hurts gushes like an open wound. "Grogu?" he growls, "Always Grogu first, always. This was a mistake."

"Grogu is also my foundling. I can ask after both of you."

Ben raises his fist to smash the commlink. Din's shouting his name doesn't freeze him. But he does stop, arm shaking. Everything shaking. Everything hurting.

He lowers the commlink slowly, whispering, "Also?"

Din's holographic fists flex around the throttle.

"What does that mean?" No answer. Louder, harsher, Ben demands, "What does that mean?"

"You've told me time and again I'm not your father," Din replies with forced steadiness. "I'm not."

"You said it," Ben hisses. "Also. Both. Answer my question!"

"I care for you as one," Din blurts. "You know I do, Ben. That's why you keep telling me I'm not Solo."

No, he isn't Han Solo.

"It was a slip-up," Din says, "I'm about to jump. I'll be there as soon as I can. Stay safe."

He disappears, leaving the earthquake to shatter Ben's lungs.

()

Objectively, Ben knows Han Solo is not a bad father. The man has always been there on the rare occasions Ben calls. He jokes around with him, teaches him the inner workings of the Falcon. Awkward for emotional talks, but he never backs down from them even when he says You should probably ask your mother.

Ben doesn't know why they drifted apart, but he knows it's not really because of Solo. He just...doesn't feel the way a son should feel when he sees him. Not like when his mother sweeps into a room. For some reason, Ben feels little fraternal attachment.

His father has noticed of course. It's hard not to, especially when Han knows when he's not wanted. Force knows he keeps trying. Still, Ben can feels his relief in when Luke and Leia present the idea of Luke's school to his son.

Din Djarin is...different.

Some of the children still have parents. Grogu blasts his love for his "buir" in the Force whenever someone even hints at their own. It's nothing Ben hasn't heard before. Yet when the Mandalorian visits, that feeling Solo never inspired ignites in Ben's chest.

There's no logic in it. Yet Ben never says You're not my father when Din offers a portion of his food or gently corrects his stance. He always says You're not Solo.

Huddled behind a thick tree, Ben realizes the difference. Realizes he hadn't even thought to call his parents as he ran. The Dark calls to him, and it's so tempting, but he still waits for Din Djarin.

He tucks his head between his legs and grips his hair. His lightsaber feels heavy at his hip. It's starting to weep with him, kyber threatening to bleed.

He doesn't move. He will not move.

()

FEARFEARRELIEF

"Ah!"

Ben leaps away, crawling on his back. Grogu collides with his knee. His big eyes are wet. Ben can barely see him.

He wants to scream at the gremlin. If he's found him, he'll shout and—

"Ben!"

At first, Ben scrambles to his feet, about to run. But that's not his—not Master Skywalker.

Din slides across the dirt as Ben falls back down, switching off his helmet light so he doesn't blind him. His gloves grip Ben's shoulders.

"Are you alright?"

How long has Ben been hiding? Was Din far away? His rust-bucket of a ship might be overheating. Ben hears Solo's lecture. Distant. Not as real as Din cupping his face and shaking him.

"I don't know what to do," Ben croaks. "He's calling me. I want to answer. And you came."

"Who's calling you?" Din demands.

"Snoak. He's—he's going to be my new Master." Ben's fingers touch his saber. "It's bleeding."

Din pats him down. "What is?"

Ben presents his lightsaber and ignites it. Din recoils out of the way. His blade is not longer pure blue. Red seethes from the hilt, spreading like watercolors to the tip of the blade.

"...okay." Din carefully touches Ben's thumb, deactivating the saber. "What happened?"

He doesn't sound scared or disgusted. His hands don't shake when they return to Ben's shoulders. Not like Grogu, who is cowering in Din's cape and whimpering. Ben imagines choking him. He's never really done that before. It feels good. Powerful.

He gasps loudly as cold beskar slams into him.

"Stay with me, kid."

Din is hugging him. Does he know?

"I'm Falling," Ben rasps, "I'm Falling, and you can't stop it."

"Okay," Din repeats.

"They won't think so." Ben's eyes wander back to Grogu. It's a little hard now, with Din holding him so tightly. "I can feel your precious son's neck snapping in my hands."

Din finally tenses. Grogu muffles his sobs against his father's hip.

"Why do you want to kill him?" Din asks quietly.

"He's annoying me."

"That's not a good enough reason."

"Why not? I'm more powerful than him. I can do it."

Din pulls back. He pulls back and—honestly, Ben is bracing for the punch. Maybe a knife.

Din yanks off his helmet.

He's old. Maybe Skywalker's age, maybe a bit older. He has a mustache. He has brown eyes. There is tension in his face. Without the beskar, Ben can really sense him. He is scared. He is worried. He is protective.

"Look at me," he tells Ben. "Listen. You are not a killer. Don't," he orders over Ben's opening mouth, "say I don't know anything about you. You know that's not true." He cups Ben's face again. "You are terrified, and that makes you desperate. Desperate beings can be driven to anything. It doesn't matter if you wield your powers or not." He leans close. "Whatever so-called Master is talking to you has been waiting for this. He wants you to think you have no choice. But what did you do?"

Ben is breathing. Really breathing. "I called you."

Din nods. "And are you choking Grogu?"

"...no."

Another nod. "I won't stop you from making your choice. But don't let yourself be cornered."

Ben trembles. He is breathing and he is trembling. He is crying. He is Falling. He is being held.

"He tried to kill me," Ben sobs, "I don't know what to do. I can't go back. I can't."

Din's expression hardens. "Who tried to kill you?"

"Skywalker," Ben spits, "He was afraid of me! Afraid of what I can become without him!"

The Force thickens around Din. He is no longer afraid. He is angry—angrier than Ben.

The Mandalorian puts on his helmet and stands. He picks up Grogu and holds out his hand. Ben takes it.

"Stay behind me."

()

Ben shudders when he sees Skywalker. Din's hovering arm feels like a wall between them. By rights, it shouldn't feel safe.

"What did you do?!" Din roars. Violent vindication sweeps through Ben as Skywalker curls into himself. "You try to kill one of your own? Someone you swore to protect?"

Fearfearfear whimpers from Grogu. Fearfearmasterskywalkertherearetoomanyofthem—Ben stifles his vomit. No one's told him—no one ever talks about Va—

The other students emerge from their beds. They huddle like mice as Din unholsters his blaster.

"You have no right to call yourself a teacher," Din snarls, "No right to call yourself Jedi."

Oh, it feels good to see Skywalker like this. Broken. How does it feel?

"Put down your weapon," Din orders.

"Din—"

"Luke, don't. Put it down."

Skywalker puts it down.

"I'm calling Marshal Dune. The second she touches ground, I'm taking Ben. Until then, if you even look at him wrong, I will not hesitate."

The children gasp and whimper, looking between him and Skywalker.

"I don't know what happened," Skywalker mumbles, "Din, I would never—"

"Clearly you would."

Skywalker doesn't sit so much as collapse. He bows his head and says nothing more.

()

Ben curls in Din's bunk on the rust-bucket ship, Din standing nearby. It's not overheating after all.

"Let me guess," he says, "I'm not allowed to leave."

To his surprise, Din says, "You can. But I'll be following you."

"Because I'm a threat?"

"Because your own family just tried to kill you, and I don't want him near you, even disarmed." Ben feels his gaze. "I'm going to protect you, kid. Don't worry."

"I'm not," Ben snaps.

Din squeezes his leg. Ben squeezes his eyes shut.

"...I don't want to see them. My parents."

"You'll have to eventually. They'll be worried."

"Will they? I told you, I Fell. I'm everything they've sworn to destroy."

"If they really are your parents, they won't care how far you've gone."

"Are you saying you don't, with your little Jedi?"

"I care about you and your actions. Not some half-dead traditions that say a child should die."

"I am not a child."

"A teenager is still a child to me." Din sighs. "Ben. I'm not scared of you. I don't think you're a monster. I think you're the snarky kid who sneaks cookies to the young ones and keeps using your magic to lift me up while I'm trying to have a conversation."

Ben sits up. Din does nothing. No defensive stance, no reaching for his weapon. When Ben charges him, he merely opens his arms to catch him.

"You're safe," Din whispers, "Fallen or not."

Ben's saber is not screaming anymore.

[i-will-physically-fight-you]

A Singular Cog in The Machine Chapter 2

Chapter Title: Circuits and Wires

Summary: "It was pure logic when it came down to it. Why allow harm befall the others if Logan could stop it? Surely, it was much more beneficial for only one to be harmed than for all to undergo excruciating pain and misery. A broken cog is more easily replaced than if the whole machine fell apart."

Logan adheres to the belief that needs of the many far outweigh the needs of the one, the latter being himself. Or in other words, Logan tries to sacrifice himself for the sake of the others. Fortunately for Logan, they won’t let him get away with that.

Chapter Word-Count: 2k

Pairings: platonic lamp

Warnings: Whump, Referenced Torture, Panic Attack, PTSD, Zalgo Text (If you need a version without it let me know!), Nightmare, Blood Mention, Injuries, Strangling, Partial Amnesia, Angst with a Happy Ending

Prompt For Chapters 2 & 3: Anon asked “When one character doesn’t realize they’ve been accepted into the family/think of themselves as outsides, until they get hurt and everyone takes shifts watching over them and taking care of them. : Logan  or Virgil?”

Chapter 1 | Present | Chapter 3    AO3 LINK

Hey remember when seven months ago I said this would be only be two parts? Well I lied, it’s now three parts. Good news, I’ve already written the next part so you don’t have to wait another seven months for that one :’)

-

ERROR. Systems crashed. Restart? 

Restarting...Restarting...Restarting

W̨̧̻̱͓͐̃̿͂͡Ą͇̦̳̓̂̊͠R̢͎͕͕͙̃̄͘̕͝Ṇ̨͎̮͑̌͘͘Ḭ̲̩̂̂͠N͓̬̺͌̾͐G̛̗̲͚̈́͒͗ͅ ͢͠S͈͓͒̃͜͠Y͈̓Ş͘T͕̖̀̑Ȇ̥M̟̳͐̀ ̀͜f͍̓ä̲́͢͞Í̮L̤̊URe̢̕

--ton! We’re losing him!

            Not….get him stabilized...

What          

                       Is                                 That? 

Logan! 

                          Can you… 

                                                                          hear me?

Activating Protocol L1G8N. All programs unnecessary maintaining system stability have been shut off.  Sequencing….Sequencing complete. Running diagnosis check. System is running at 40% its usual capacity. Initiating hibernation mode to ensure updates and system repairs can be achieved. Initiation Complete.

…..

….

…

..

.

“A cheetah can run up to seventy miles per hour. They are the fastest land animal on the planet Earth. However, this speed can only be maintained for a few seconds. For our cheetah mother, a few seconds is not enough to catch up to her prey. With defeat, she must stop and conserve her energy for a better opportunity to secure a meal for herself and her cubs. If not…”

A voice. Measured and methodical, soothing to the ears. He could not discern where it was coming from. It seemed familiar, something he could recall hearing previously. Yet that memory laid restricted in his memory-banks. He couldn’t access any memories, in fact.

Who was he? Where was he? He tried doing a visual scan of his surroundings but his bio-optics were down. No sight, just a voice within darkness. A tactile scan also failed, this time with a thousand red flashing warnings and pain. Crippling, debilitating pain. Like his hard-drive overheating, whirring with exertion but so much worse.

A different sound joined the voice in the darkness. A croaking, choking cry that belonged to a wounded animal. Not him, certainly not him.

“Logan?” Someone asks, speaking over the voice droning on about savannah wildlife. They grasp his hand and his whole system freezes. Expecting an attack, breach on his firewall and entire code. They simply hold his hand, in a firm, comforting clasp. 

“Hey, it’s alright, Brainiac. You’re here now. You’re safe. You’re never going back there, alright? Never.” The person said, running their thumb over his knuckles. He didn’t know what those words were referring to. He didn’t know who the person was--although they felt as familiar as the first voice. Perhaps even more so. 

However, he found it alleviated many of the warnings flooding his systems. The voice ensured security, protection against viruses and hackers. His own anti-virus program perhaps. 

He could not hold awareness for long. His systems drifted back into hibernation, into a murky nothingness.

….

…

..

.

Running. He was running, lungs pushing for air and legs pulling forward faster than he’d ever gone. Sweat dripped down his brow, the biological coolant to prevent overheating. Like a cheetah, he couldn’t maintain this speed for long. He just hoped it was enough—

‘The probability of achieving success is 0.03%.’

In a very illogical move, he kept running. He supposed it could be blamed for the biological blood in his veins, to quote an idiom. Even if so, he was an android with a biological mainframe. The body he inhabited was not a part of his code. To claim such a thing would be comparable to referring to an automotive vehicle you drive was a part of your composition makeup.

“There you are!”

His thoughts and body slammed to a halt. A thousand eyes glinted with amusement. Tendrils sprayed all around him, cutting off any routes of escape. A smile full of teeth that was anything but friendly.

“Fascinating,” They crooned, a tendril gripping his chin, “You should be temporarily paralyzed right now, unable to move a single muscle.

“Yet here you’ve run fifteen-hundred yards and stand of your own free will. How did you do it? I must know.”

It was then his heart metaphorically sunk. Because he’d never been close to escaping. It’d been all part of an experiment and like a witless lab rat, he fell for it.

Logan didn’t respond, eyebrows narrowed in a gesture that might be seen as defiant.

The amusement drained from their eyes. “Tell me.” They demanded,  the tendril wrapping around his neck, tightening. “Tell me or I’ll hunt down your friends, one-by-one.”

No. He couldn’t allow that to happen. Logan tried opening his mouth but all that came out was a gargled squeak. The tendril was choking him now, cutting off his airways. As android as he was, he panicked. He couldn’t breathe, he was going to die, he was going to die—

“Logan!”

He thrashed and flailed, trying to get the tendril off of him. But it wouldn’t budge. It held him down, pinning him in place. Like a butterfly on a collector’s board.

“Logan, please—”

He growled, baring his teeth in a very primitive gesture. Whatever intimidation he hoped to gain was lost as liquid seeped against his torso. With it, came a stinging sensation worse than the time Roman unwittingly led them into a rancor’s nest.

“Oh fuck, Patton? Roman?! Get in here, he’s reopened something!”

Hibernation Mode Initiated.

What? No, he couldn’t go into hibernation. Not in the face of present danger.

“Override—” He croaked but it was too late, the damage had been dealt. The melatonin kicked in as the clamor above him grew louder.

…

..

.

Scanning systems. Diagnosis complete. Biological tissues are 54% recovered. Estimated full recovery in one-thousand four-hundred sixty gala hours. ERRORrrrr memory files are corrupted. Restore? Warning! Unable to restore due to Protocol L1G8N. Restoring memory files could lead to instability within the systems.

OVERRIDE ALPHA-NINER-NINER

Protocol L1G8N disengaged. Restoring memory files…restoration complete. Cycles 1-10803 restored. Alert! Cycles 10741-10800 are unstable. 

A̛̦̞͖̩̤̣͖̭͈̪̯̞̩̱͖͙̩̟͉͌́̎̃̎̈̍͒̾̽̾́͐̐̓̾͘͢͜͝͡͞ ̨̬͔̺̬͌̔̀̀̃͜͝L̛͖̲̾ ̨̯̼̺̺͑̓̈̊͝Ę̧̡̨̛̩̱͓͉̗̱͇̯͓̪̰̠̠̼͍͓̩̼̻̜̬̜̺͚̟̪̗̜̦̱̬͇̰̖͖̫̆̈͒͂̔̋͛̉͛̈̏̃͆̆̇̅̌̉̀̐̓͂̑̈́̂̄͌͛̇͐̈́͂́͌͋̄̈͑͗͘͜͢͢͝͞ ̡͈̗̹͍̞͚̝͕̜̟͉̹̺̞̱̤̰̋͂̉̀͐̒̓̔͌͗̈̍̎̏̑̚͟͝͝͝Ṙ̨̡͎̤͕̲̞̬̲̯͙̙͙̫̖̺̠̫̲̬͚̩̯̝͋͒͋͑̋̅̐͗̂̍̐̑̽͛́̏̆̅͒͌͋̀̕̚͟͟͝͡ͅ ̧̢̧̢̢͇̲̥̻̝̹̟̱̗͇̦̟͎̥̤̲̭̤̤̟̫̩̱̘͍̥̼̰͎̍̏͐̑̑̎͑̾̃͆̀̌̈̈́̂́̃̓̈͊͌͛̉̀͐̋̎̄͆͑̚̚͘͟͠͠͞ͅT̨̨͇̞̳̞͕̭̪̝̜̼̬͖͓̩̗̩̲͔̦̜͖̭̞͚͎̰̹̦̰͙̣̞̠̥̪̔̑͋̂͂̓̌̐̾͒̓̋̏̔̄́̄͌́͂̈̿͐̎͛̀̄̀͊̋͑̕͘͘̕͝͞

..

.

The first thing he registered was the dull, minimal amounts of data his pain receptors were sending him. Most likely some sort of analgesics reducing the amount of prostaglandins his body would produce. Or in other words, rather than his AI shutting off the pain signals, it was the cause of a painkiller. 

The second thing was the warmth radiating around him. Not from a blanket or the climate but from a warm-blooded body. Warmth could be a dangerous thing for him, both biologically and mechanically. Extreme amounts of it could kill him. This warmth was different. It was nowhere near the dangerous levels. If anything, the other person’s warmth seemed to keep him anchored.

His head rested against the nook of their shoulder, their arms wrapped around him in not a constraining but comforting hold. Objectively comforting, of course. His biological body needed tactile touch to survive. It responded out of its own vocation to it.

The third thing happened to be singing. Low and rumbly, sometimes off-key but not terribly too off-key. Some might argue it captured the song better than a classically-trained opera singer could ever hope to achieve. 

“Takka toya taya

Yul se umting kaiting

Ritka forka eyis

Yul se Arden fayee.”

It wasn’t GCL (Galactic Common Language). It took him a moment to register the words and translate them. It was Titekan. He cracked his eyes open but it found it useless when he was squished against the person’s shirt.

“Patton?” He asked, his throat throbbing in protest. It took more effort than it should to just speak one word.

“Logan! You’re awake?” A question for a question was hardly an actual answer. Still, it was Patton no doubt. He managed to crane his head back to look up at the Titekan.

“I think that is a rather obvious observation.” He grumbled, ignoring the dry, scratchiness of his vocal chords.

Patton laughed. Logan could feel the vibration of it rattling the other’s chest. It sounded...different than his usual bursts of laughter. Logan did not understand why. “Roman! Virgil! Look who’s awake!”

What? Logan hadn’t been aware of the others’ presences. Impossible, he always knew their whereabouts. It helped when one could track heat signals and had a connection to the ship’s circuitry. Perhaps he misheard Patton?

THUMP.

 Logan blinked, jostled by the sudden appearance of a mop of disheveled amber hair and curled horns. Ruby eyes shined up at him with unbridled glee. 

“Logan! My most obdurate, appalling, loquacious fiend of a nerd!”

“Ahh, hello Roman.” Logan managed to say in response. Roman beamed, his reptile-like tail whipping back and forth much like a dog.

“Whoa, careful with that thing, you could take someone out with it.”

Virgil. Logan turned his head to see the human standing there with his arms crossed. His figure slightly slouched, his eyebags significantly darker than usual and a few more grey hairs than when Logan last saw him.

“You are all acting weird,” Logan said, never one for subtlety, “Is something wrong?”

Roman’s tail drooped, as did Patton’s ears. Virgil just looked away, his head turned enough to make his expression indiscernible. 

“Lo, what’s the last thing you remember?” Patton asked, his voice soft and hesitant.

“I…” Logan stiffened, blood draining away from his face. Images flooded his central cortex, pulled from relevant memory files. Logan slipping out of the ship during the others’ sleep cycles. The thousand unblinking pale eyes. The images glitching, corrupted. The stabbing, burning, thrashing, drowning, strangling--the list went on and on. He retreated into his code. The simulations. So real, but never enough.

N̶̗̲̈́̆͊̿̓̕ ̶͍̻̲̉͌̈́̽̑͐͠E̵̠̰͑͊͑̌̔ͅ ̷̰̥̝̘̞̽́̇̌͑̚͝V̵͗̈́͊̚ͅ ̴̛͎̳̺̮͂͌Ę̸͙̫̂͂͌̽͝R̸͚̪̬̾̌ ̸̛̙̣͍̦̮͈̹̽̿͋̆͛͊Ȅ̷̜̮͙̚ͅÑ̴̦̙̭͘Ơ̶̧͖͎̟̽U̷̻̽̈̌̋Ģ̵̖̫͔͕̹̽͐͛̊̽Ḧ̸̲̹́̅́h̶͍̼͔͎̟̟͖̅͛͗h̸̻̘͔͕͖̦͍͒̈́͒̓̑̈́̾h̶̛̟͓̗͉͚̿̔

“LOGAN!”

He jolted, his heart beating wildly out of rhythm. Much like Virgil’s during a panic attack. That wasn’t right. He was a machine, his body no more than a method of transportation. No emotions, only logic. 

He didn’t lash out in anger whenever the others were mistreated (a lie). He didn’t panic when the others’ lives were threatened (another lie). He didn’t love the others enough to sacrifice his continued survival for them (an even bigger lie than the other two combined). 

“Logan, can you breath in for me?” A voice asked, gravelly and rough that it was so undeniably Virgil. He was confused. Virgil’s question indicated his breathing was not fine.

“Y-yyo--” He tried speaking, the syllables lost in shallow gasps of air. He jerked his head side-to-side, frustrated. His airflow was indeed erratic. The automatic breathing program was down, unresponsive to his pings. Unless the body was experiencing a heart attack or stroke of some kind, this shouldn’t be happening. 

“Don’t try speaking, okay?” A hand brushed his bangs away from his face, “Just breathe in with me, alright?”

Logan nodded affirmatively, liquid starting to dribble down his cheeks. Obviously a malfunction with his tear ducts. An internal count-down started as he inhaled with Virgil.

One-thousand, two-thousand--his breath cut short, too shallow and spluttery. There was a sob, shattered and broken.

“Hey it’s okay. Let’s try again, alright?” 

“You can do it, we believe in you.” Roman’s voice joined in. Patton didn’t say anything, but from the rumbling reverb of his chest, Logan knew he was there supporting him.

Logan wanted desperately to speak, to argue with them. Part of him wondered if this was another experiment. A test to see how he’d react to dying by asphyxiation. The others were simply fake, not real. They couldn’t be real--they’d promised--

“One...two...three...four.” The words broke through his internal processing. Logan knew them well. He’d spoken them to Virgil to help fight off panic attacks that snuck past his firewalls. Logan latched onto them akin to a shipwreck survivor holding onto driftwood in a raging ocean.

It was slow-going. Several times the waves knocked him back, almost drowning him. With each setback, came soft words buoying him forward. Eventually, his breathing stabilized, reaching the blissful metaphorical shore at last.

Logan’s eyes flickered between his three crewmates, surveying them carefully. There was so much he wanted to say. No, so much he needed to say. 

For possibly the first time in his existence, he was completely bewildered. If this was one of their experiments, where was the macabre twist? And it couldn’t be a simulation. Logan was always aware inside a simulation. He crafted them himself, after all. That left one option...reality.

Yet, that too didn’t make logical sense. Logan was the ship navigator and engineer; an important cog in the machine but one easily replaced. For them to go through the hassle of retrieving him...it just did not compute. 

He couldn’t express any of this confusion. His limbs became fraught with fatigue, his eyelids growing heavier by the second. He could not fight it for much longer.

“I think....I am falling unconscious.” He said, before doing just that.

[sdfgsdrgh]

How Much Water To Put In Hookah Pipe

Newbies to hookah, take note! I know it can be tricky to figure out how much water should go in your hookah pipe at first. But listen, just a few simple pointers and you’ll be filling that vase up to the perfect level every time.First things first, don’t overfill it! I see a lot of beginners put way too much water into thinking more is better. Not true! Too much and you’ll get gurgling noises or water in your mouth when you’re trying to take a puff. Feeling very uncomfortable? Don't worry, today we wrote this blog to solve this problem for you: how much water should you put in your hookah base?

How much water should I put in my hookah?When you fill your hookah, getting the water level right in the bottom of the vase is crucial for a good smoking session. Too much water produces gurgling sounds and can push water into your hose – not fun! On the other hand, too little water will give you harsh, hot smoke that will make your throat hurt like hell. So where’s the sweet spot?After many tries my friend, I’ve found that filling it up to one inch above where the downstem ends at the base (the tube which connects the bowl and the rest of the pipe) works best. What happens when the line hits about an inch past this point is enough liquid is present there for cooling and filtering smoke adequately while still allowing good airflow.I also suggest using filtered or distilled rather than tap water because minerals build up over time without proper cleaning methods used frequently enough; hygiene matters to people! Clean out any left-behind flavors from previous sessions by rinsing vigorously through with clean cold water before filling again

So why is the amount of water so important?

First, the amount of water matters. Enough water can filter most of the harmful substances and make the smoke smooth. However, too much water will increase air resistance during smoking.In addition to the quantity of water, we should also pay attention to its temperature. It has an impact on our experience with hookah! Freezing cold water creates such thick vapor clouds that it feels like smoking a frosty milkshake. Some people even put ice cubes in there for maximum chillness. And if you let the pipe sit deep down where it’s submerged more, then the smoke will hang out in there longer and have time to cool off before hitting your mouth.

So what water temperature should we maintain to achieve the best smoke effect?

I think it is best to use cold water rather than hot water, generally between 18-25 degrees Celsius. At this temperature,It cools vapor down fast, so when you smoke hookah smoke you will feel very cool and smooth and acts as an excellent filter for smoke produced during sessions

How do I get thicker smoke from my hookah?

You know, Smoke can leave the bowl at a temperature of 150-200°C! However, by the time it has passed through the stem, this will have fallen to about 100-150°C. After that, when it bubbles through the water, there is a massive drop in temperature which bottoms out at around 30-50°C as it comes up the hose. So what happens is that the water acts like a natural cooler – condensing all that hot water vapor into deliciously thick clouds. It not only looks great but also feels really smooth and soft on your throat when you inhale.For those who love to produce dense clouds while smoking hookahs, nothing works better than ice or very cold water. Apart from this, there are many other methods of making hookah smoke thicker which can be found in our blog ‘How do I get thicker smoke from my hookah?’However, on another note; if you use hot water above fifty degrees Celsius (50 °C), you will not achieve any cooling effect whatsoever. Rather it makes your throat and lungs feel dry with irritation caused by heat alone. So I usually add some ice cubes in the summer to help me solve the problem of smoke overheating Read the full article

[ayellowcurtain]

Can you write a fic where Robbe is struggling with long term PTSD following the homophobic attack? And his boyfriend or/and friends try to comfort him and help him overcome the trauma?

could you write something about Robbe and Sander going to that bar and Robbe getting anxious but Sander is there for him?

ask for you to write something like Robbe having an asthma attack and how him and Sander deals with it please?

Robbe doesn’t feel too good, it’s not the usual “you’re getting out of breath” that he’s so used to it after years living with asthma attacks, it’s something else, but he checks his pockets just in case. His inhaler in his left jacket pocket, he didn’t forget it at home, he’s okay.

Sander looks at him and smiles, holding his hand tighter and Robbe takes that as an invitation to walk closer, always checking around them to see if there’s anyone else on the sidewalk.

He can see it from here, the bar - their bar as Sander says - it’s crowded, a little more than that night, but it’s also a little earlier this time.

“If you don’t feel comfortable, just tell me, Robbe. And we’ll get out of here.” Sander tells him when they reach the door, looking deep into Robbe’s eyes to make sure he understands. It’s okay if he doesn’t feel safe yet.

Robbe tries to focus on something else other than his past memories, flashing in the back of his mind constantly. He tries to remember the other time they were here. About how anxious he was, but also how he never felt so alive, wanting someone so badly it was actually physically painful at some point.

He never thought he was the one to kiss his boyfriend in public, proudly whispering where he wanted to go next with Sander, asking please as he kisses Sander’s cheek and squeezed his thigh. His touch in the back of Robbe’s neck left his skin tingling for the whole time they were inside.

Safe inside.

They’re finally sitting inside, in the complete opposite side of the bar than the other time and Sander’s gentle touch on his thigh makes Robbe more present in the moment, but also remind him again of another piece of that night, looking at Sander and he smiles. Robbe was out of it again and Sander is so patient when that happens.

“You want to drink something? A beer?”

Robbe’s throat is dry and so he nods his head. A cold, freezing beer sounds perfect right about now. Sander talks to the happy waiter and he asks for some snacks too. Soon Robbe is chugging down his beer, really thankful for the coldness that helps balance his temperature, he feels like he’s overheating.

“Come on...Show me your magic tricks again.” Sander pushes the snack bowl closer to Robbe, trying to distract him from his fears. Robbe thought he was managing to hide how he’s feeling, but maybe it’s as clear as he feels it.  He can’t seem to focus on anything, his brain is foggy and his body is anxious, trying to keep it all inside and not worry Sander.

“I don’t remember what I did that night, was freaking out.” Robbe laughs shyly. Sander is trying so hard and so he just has to push through an hour or so inside this place and he’ll be good.

“I remember every single word you said. Want me to tell you, word-by-word?” Sander touches his forehead, putting his hair to the side, it was bothering his eyes, but Robbe couldn’t bring himself to fix it. But then Sander does and Robbe flinches, looking around them, feeling his panic crawl through his veins and he holds his breath, stopping it from reaching his brain.

Sander doesn’t complain about Robbe avoiding his touch, he doesn’t even look disappointed, just puts his hand down, holding his beer instead, acting like that didn’t just happen.

“I’m sorry.” Robbe pulls his chair closer to Sander’s, feeling the lump in his throat getting bigger and bigger.

He was so worried about his trauma and how it still affects him that when he notices, it’s too late.

One can only make the other worse, Robbe can’t breath, no matter how much air he tries to inhale, it’s never enough, it doesn’t go to his lungs, he feels his neck hard and fighting to spread the air to every member to make his body function normally.

“Need to get out.”

It feels like a minute goes by but it’s probably just a second until Sander understands what’s going on. Robbe stumbles to stand up and Sander is right next to him, leaving money on their table, his hand on Robbe’s back.

“Come, let’s get out of here, get some fresh air.” Sander holds his hand tight again, that’s basically all Robbe can feel. His brain is shutting down, his lungs feel like their walls are glued to each other, never able to fill his lungs with enough air.

He hears complaints, Sander harshly pushing people out of their way, the loud noise of the heavy door being opened. Cold wind against his face makes him dizzy, but it’s better than a crowded place.

“Wait, Robbe, just breathe, ok?” He’s against the outside wall, Robbe can hear how he’s wheezing and Sander’s nervous hands touching his jacket, he finds the inhaler before Robbe can and puts it on his hand, closing his fingers around it.

-

Slowly, Robbe’s brain starts working again. He can think clearly and see where they are. Still leaning against the outside door. Sander is right next to him, holding his hand, waiting with Robbe to recover.

Even though he’s happy to breathe again - the air after an attack feels like the best thing ever - Robbe feels like the worst boyfriend. Ruining their date once again.

“I’m sorry.” He turns his head to be able to see Sander and he smiles softly.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, cutie.”

Robbe holds Sander’s hand and drags them to sit on the sidewalk and wait for a little.

He’s happy to be able to sigh, even if it’s a small struggle, at least the air he’s breathing is enough to fill his lungs for a second. Robbe sits closer to Sander, their thighs flat against each other. He quietly puts his arms around Sander’s, hugging it, resting against his shoulder, kissing and looking back, hiding against his shoulder blade.

“The start of that night was one of the best moments of my life.”

He feels when Sander laughs, moving his arm to hold Robbe’s hand, kissing the back of it.

“Yeah, it was amazing.”

“I wish it went as we planned…” Robbe whispers, regretting not drinking his entire beer before they had to rush out, his throat is dry and raspy.

“We got what we wanted, just a few weeks later, no?” Sander tries to look at him, Robbe can feel his back muscles moving and how he’s trying to look over his shoulder and so he moves, resting his chin against the edge of Sander’s shoulder, looking at him.

“Yeah. I guess.”

“So we won. Those criminals don’t stand a chance against our love. We have the right to love each other. And I’m so very lucky I can have you for the rest of my life, we’ll have so many happy nights together, going on dates or not, just staying in. As long as we got each other and our love, that counts as a big win to me.”

Robbe laughs, kissing his shoulder, still looking up at Sander, quietly intertwining their fingers in between them.

“You’re so romantic.”

“That’s all your fault.”

[miomediator]

HS/DST crossover: Don’t Stay Trapped

The Reckless Mechanician

I saw once a picture of John in the Don’t Starve Together style, but no one else seems to have dig into that idea. And so, after beginning playing the game with my friends, here it is: a Homestuck and DST crossover.

Well, I actually found a few characters in the DST workshop (most of them being plain rip-off of existing sprites), but otherwise I don’t find anything around the internet, drawing-wise.

Click here to see the Deviantart version with Dirk’s lore, along with a quick explanation of the game.

Gameplay wise, Dirk arrives in the Constant with a machete and his automaton (with a telltale heart in it). Respecting DST’s game mechanism, here’s how it would work:

Dirk is an inventor and mechanician, so he can prototype items and devices faster than other survivors (like Winona). I suck at numbers, but let’s say 1.0 sec faster.

Like the others, he can sacrifice 40 health points to create a telltale heart, however his ability to splinter changes the whole deal. By putting a part of his soul into the automaton he built, it came to life, has a personality and moves on its own. A special tab is displayed on Dirk’s menu, allowing him to give orders to the automaton. He can even take control of it, while his own body is idle. Pretty convenient to multitask and explore the map. However his organic body is exposed and vulnerable to any danger in this situation, so he mustn’t neglect it.

If Dirk create a telltale heart and resurrect someone with it, he can switch his point of view to the resurrected friend. Pretty useful to see what they are doing, for example to see exactly where an item or enemy is. He cannot control said resurrected survivor.

When Dirk dies, his text is still comprehensible and turns into third person. But that’s just him playing with the metatextual level for role playing funzies. If Abigail’s present, he’ll talk to her and respond, showing they’re having a conversation. The regular ghost mobs aren’t much for talking to him, sadly.

While being a ghost, Dirk can possess his automaton and do what his metal partner can normally do. If he decides to unpossess it, Dirk is immediately resurrected, as he fused back with the telltale heart he gave to his automaton. Afterward, he has to create another telltale heart if he wants it to work again.

Dirk is insomniac (like Wickerbottom) and so can’t sleep normally. The only ways are to make him eat a mandrake or being put to sleep by a Bearger. The bright side is that he’s willing to chase away shadows when everybody else is using a tent or sleeping bag.

He's good in combat, dealing decent damages, but in the other hand have low defence. He can make up for it with armor, and sometimes have to sacrifice a bit of his speed.

Being paranoid in nature, when Dirk’s sanity is low (35-20 %) he engages panic mode and uncontrollably swing his machete (if equipped) at anything that moves, including neutral mobs and other survivors. This behavior deal great damages but is unpredictable. If no weapon is equipped or present in his inventory he’ll use his fists.

Born in Texas, Dirk is used to ridiculous heat. So he has resistance to overheating (like Willow) while summer kicks in in the Constant. On the other hand cold and humidity are his greatest enemies. Dirk hates when it rains, his humidity gauge increases faster than the others. In winter, items like the Winter Hat and Rabbit Earmuffs are less effective on him, and he’s more susceptible to freezing.

Trivia: The story takes place in the 40s. Dirk works at the Crocker Household Food and Technology Corporation before the events of DST. All DST characters have a funny trend of beginning with the letter “W”. That would make Dirk “Wirk” pronounced as ‘Work’. Pretty fitting for someone who is a workaholic.

Dirk’s voice would be a clarinet, for being clear, high pitched yet going into a low pitch too. A good discernible balance. After being tricked by Charlie, Dirk deeply despite the lady. However, if there’s one thing he can respect her for, it’s the clothes she regularly gifts to the survivors. She has a good sense of fashion and nice priorities, and she can get points for that.

His dialogues when examining an item, mob or survivor are funny and interesting. Some dramatic, morbid even. He doesn’t comment nicely on his own cadaver.

“A fitting end for an awful and self-centred asswipe.” “But can we talk about ‘end’ if I’m still standing and breathing?” “Is this pile of bones can considered being me?”

Dirk, like Maxwell, has metatextual awareness and will comment on bits like the player interface and game mechanism.

Dirk will reluctantly wear hats, these flattening his hair. He only agrees because he needs the protection against the elements and the mobs.

The only survivor Dirk knows is Roxy. They met each other in the army during the second world war. She as a saboteur, and he as a repairman and receptionist. He found her quite annoying back then, but when he saw her in the Constant, he was relieved to see a familiar and friendly face. He heard about Jane since she is the heiress to the Crocker Corporation, but only by name.

He seems weird out by the non-humans survivors at first, but end up being chill  about it after hanging with them for a bit. In this universe, his older brother is alive and director to extravagant experimental movies. Dirk looks up to him but can’t help to feel a gap between the two of them that can’t never be filled. Since the Constant is timeless and pick people from different places, Dirk would meet young Dave from the beta universe. The meeting would be awkward as Dirk always knew and highly regarded Dave, while Dave never met his bro/dad. Slowly they would get confortable with each other, Dirk being protective toward him, and Dave more open with his feelings.